The Unwaba Revelations

by Samit Basu

  Mantric rose, and a stream of blue light sped from his hands into the water to the Duck of Destiny’s rear.

  And a whale appeared there, bathed in blue light. It looked exactly like Hattima.

  The Nurmi swerved sharply, sending several skeletal pirates flying overboard. Fujen and Orpi joined the melee on the Duck’s deck. Telu-Yeti was in the centre of the carnage, a terrifying sight as she scooped up one undead pirate after another and tossed them overboard.

  Turning with impossible grace, the Nurmi swept past the Duck’s rear towards Mantric’s whale illusion. The last few yards were covered in a blur; the battering ram sliced across the Duck’s rear, and there was an awful cracking sound as timber splintered and flew upwards. More undead leaped on to the Duck’s rear deck, huge, lumbering zombies that had once been Skuan raiders, giants bearing great battle-axes. But the Nurmi rushed on, past the Duck of Destiny, forgetting the insignificant mortals as it closed in on its real quarry. The real Hattima began to dive, intending to swim underneath the Duck and emerge on the other side, displaying himself to Aguleb out of sheer malice. His game would only end when he was the only living being in the water.

  But the Silver Dagger dived off the Duck of Destiny, arms spread wide, dagger a dazzling arc of light, and landed neatly on the battle-scarred whale.

  The undead Skuans rushed towards Mantric, who rose with alacrity and met them with a shower of green comets. Several fell off the deck, trailing flames, but the others rose and charged again.

  The illusion-whale vanished just as the Nurmi charged into it, and the undead pirates screeched in unison, their rage tearing the skies apart. Aguleb roared to his tiller-zombies, and the Nurmi began to turn in an unnaturally small arc, even more undead falling off its sides.

  The jakyinis disposed of, Fujen’s crew sped back to deal with the Skuan zombies. Telu-Yeti led the charge, covered in undead muck; Fujen and Orpi stabbed and thrust in tandem by her side.

  Its turn completed, the Nurmi set its course for the Duck of Destiny’s centre. There would be no turning aside this time; the mortals would soon join Aguleb’s sailors in their eternal voyage around the earth, on the trail of the elusive Hattima.

  But just then, with a great moan, Hattima Timi leaped out of the water, and a grappling hook snaked out and lodged itself on the Duck of Destiny’s mizzenmast. Living and undead turned in wonder and stared as the great whale soared through the air, and the Silver Dagger somersaulted in mid-air, caught a rope and swung down on the Duck’s deck, a nonchalant smile playing across his lips. Not one to stand and gloat until the battle was finished, he sent a volley of shuriken into the Skuan zombies, pinning them to masts and to each other, and then led a charge that ended, as it only ever could with the Silver Dagger leading it, in victory.

  Hattima’s landing, on the other hand, was not quite as satisfactory, as he crashed down on the Nurmi, squashing most of Aguleb’s crew, and smashing the deck, and then wiggled in an undignified manner, jerked and fell back into the ocean. With at least thirty zombies twitching and stabbing on his back, he dived into the welcoming bosom of the ocean. Roaring in fury, Aguleb turned the crippled Nurmi again and set off in pursuit.

  And the Duck of Destiny lay placidly again on the calm ocean, floating on gentle, lapping waves under the placid sun, its sails ripped, its rudder smashed, and several of its crew grievously wounded. Telu-Yeti showed her great skill then, cradling the wounded to her glowing heart until their bruises melted away and their bones creaked back into position.

  ‘What did you do to that poor whale?’ asked Jen.

  The Dagger smirked as he kicked another zombie off into the water. ‘There was an ancient Avrantic tantric pleasure-technique I learned back when I was a boy,’ he said. ‘It was called The Tickling of the Whale. Worked like a charm.’

  ‘You have tickled whales before?’ asked Orpi in wonder.

  ‘No,’ said the Dagger, looking mildly offended. ‘But it turns out those Avrantic tantrics based their techniques on extensive scientific research. Excellent illusion, Mantric. You must do that at parties after we’ve saved the world.’

  And then he fell on the deck, completely exhausted, and started to snore gently.

  ‘What now?’ asked Jen. ‘The ship’s crippled. Our only option seems to be getting on the longboats and heading home. And going mad and eating one another, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mantric. ‘Which is quite a shame, really. I had such a nice surprise planned for the gods. Still, it is clear that they sent that whale and its pursuers after us, so perhaps they do not want it.’

  Dark clouds gathered in the sky above them. Mantric ignored them.

  ‘Perhaps we should have listened to them when they tried speaking to us earlier,’ he said. ‘But I was in such a hurry, you know. I couldn’t wait to deliver the present. I might as well throw it into the ocean now. The rest of our journey will be so achingly slow and dull now.’

  ‘What a waste,’ said Jen, smiling slyly. ‘But let me know when you’re hungry. Orpi’s grown a bit fleshy of late, and we can start with her.’

  The clouds knotted overhead, coagulating into a solid black mass. It swirled and spun and began to take shape.

  ‘Mmfm,’ said Telu-Yeti.

  And the clouds formed a shape. A duck’s head. Its beak opened.

  ‘QUACK,’ said the Duck of Destiny’s figurehead, its eyes opening. It looked most surprised.

  All over the ship, splinters of wood flew into the air as planks moved of their own volition, settling into a pattern that very slightly resembled overlapping feathers. Several of Fujen’s pirates knelt and prayed.

  And then the Duck of Destiny moved, slowly at first, wood and iron adjusting to the will that now commanded them, then picking up speed, swimming regally over the startled ocean. Its wooden head moaned and creaked as it looked from side to sidein astonishment.

  ‘Perhaps the gods want that present after all,’ said Mantric, his eyes gleaming.

  Orpi ran up to Jen and they kissed, and looked around in wonder, trying to find one part of this adventure that made sense, and failing utterly.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Mantric.

  ‘I have no way of telling,’ said Jen. ‘Wherever the gods want us to go. You might have noticed that this ship is no longer under my command.’

  ‘Land ahoy!’ called Irik from the crow’s nest. ‘Archipelago!’

  ‘That’s impossible,’ said Orpi. ‘I don’t know exactly where we are, but there are no islands in this part of the world. You’d have to sail east or west for several weeks.’

  ‘And yet there are islands ahead of us, and our dear Duck has decided to take us there,’ said Mantric. ‘I am not surprised at all.’

  ‘But how can islands just appear out of nowhere?’ asked Jen.

  Mantric smiled, and stared out to sea, at distant specks of land covered in mist. ‘Someone must have made them up,’ he said.

  Chapter Nine

  The great lakes of northern Vrihataranya had always been shrouded in mist and mystery. Magic lay thick and heavy in the air here, coiled around the creepers of ancient trees, seeping out of the ground, swirling in the waters of the rivers that emptied sluggishly into the lakes. Rakshases and vanars had terrible stories of the lands around the lakes; terrible demons of bone and blade that lurked in the shadows of the trees, giant tree-guardians that held sway over the valleys and hills by the lakes, devouring anything that sought to discover their secrets.

  It was near these lakes that rakshases and ravians had fought fierce battles in the Age of Terror; the ravian capital, Asroye, was rumoured to be hidden somewhere in these terrible valleys. No one knew what secret paths the ravians used to evade the monstrous beasts that stalked these forests; among living rakshases, only Aciram knew, only Aciram had walked through those secret paths long ago with his cousin Danh-Gem. And Aciram would not speak of his adventures in north Vrihataranya; too much blood had been shed there, he would say. He had sought Asroye by the
great lakes, and not found it; he did not intend to go back.

  The westernmost of the lakes was encircled by two concentric rings of steep hills known among rakshases as the Demon’s Jaws; countless rakshases had perished in the forest-covered valleys between the hill-rings in the Age of Terror. Some said the city of Asroye was built on a magical island in the middle of the lake encircled by the hills; others said the Hidden City lay far to the east, and the Demon’s Jaws merely concealed a ravian fortress, similar to Epsai in the west. Three of Danh-Gem’s brothers had died in this circle of terror, and even after the passing of the ravians the valley had lain undisturbed for two hundred years.

  But all that was merely history. Now, as the midday sun shone harsh and unyielding over the ancient valley and fought its endless daily battle with the impenetrable ocean of leaf and branch and creeper, something moved through the still, sullen air, whispering messages of disquiet to the slumbering trees.

  I-Remember-You-When-You-Were-So-High, a handsome Infinite Umarwood princeling, chief custodian of the valley’s secrets, tapped his neighbour I-Laugh-At-Your-Puny-Axe with the tip of an ancient branch and whispered, ‘Oh, dear.’

  The Umarwoods imploded with a soft plop, their massive boughs hurtling inwards into nothingness, millennia of knowledge vanishing in a shower of leaves and bark-dust.

  Vrihataranya trembled.

  And then a huge ring of trees, a circle cutting across the valley and touching both lines of hills, creaked in agony as they were sucked inwards, branches spiraling in crazed death-dances, birds soaring skywards and shrieking in fear. And then the earth shook to the sound of explosions, as tunnels opened up in the earth where the trees had stood, and huge clouds of earth and burning leaves filled the air. The Great Forest’s denizens howled and shrieked and jabbered as they fled, as stabbing tongues of flame shot out of the ground and trees near the circle’s borders splintered and exploded, and other trees were tossed into the air, their roots aflame. Ear-splitting crashes and thunderous explosions echoed to the heavens and pillars of smoke and flame rose into the sky, marking out a huge flaming jewel in the ring that was the Demon’s Jaws. As the rain of ash, earth and burning branches settled in a sullen sizzle, thousands of vamans emerged, scurrying out of tunnels like ants, with axes in their hands and destruction in their hearts.

  War-drums pounded and horns rang out. Mammoth armadrillos burst out through the tunnels, bombardiers yelling maniacally on their backs, flattening the earth under their mighty paws as they strode through the mangled forest. Sappers went to work, planting explosives, building trenches. Underground, squadrons of golems attacked mighty tree-roots, ripping and tearing their way inwards, and vaman logging machines puffed and steamed out of widened tunnels, removing wreckage and undergrowth, clearing paths, tearing aside broken pieces of the stunned forest. In just a few hours, the vamans slashed and burned out a ring wide enough for an army to stand in. And then the sappers and loggers moved aside, and Bhumi’s finest warriors marched out into the sun, rolling siege engines before them. Lines of bombardiers settled into trenches, fire-sticks pointing at unknown enemies. Catapults and ballistae were lined up behind the trenches. Armadrillo squadrons gathered in newly-made avenues, fidgeting, eager to charge. Heavily armoured vaman infantrymen thumped their axe-hafts into the ground in time with their martial chants. Bhumi had arrived, and intended to stay a while.

  On a hill to the west, three of Bhumi’s rulers sat on a giant tree-root, surrounded by a wide circle of patrolling Silverlode guards, watching their army shine in the sun below. Flaad Nagpo stroked his flowing white beard and chuckled.

  ‘Damned funny if we came to the wrong place,’ he said. ‘Bhumi’s finest locked in a, whatsit, epic battle with tree insects.’

  ‘Everything is going according to plan,’ said Yin Stinpula, her eyes glittering. ‘This is Asroye. It has to be.’

  ‘New Asroye,’ said Kuin Lizpula.

  Flaad Nagpo made a rude noise. ‘Same damned thing,’ he snorted. ‘Where are the bloody ravians?’

  ‘I’ve explained this to you before, Flaad. They’re not home,’ said Kuin, her warm, matronly face lit up by a gentle smile. ‘They’ve gone to topple Imokoi, or gone southwards to build new cities. They must have left a token force to defend their city. Not enough to take us on. If they charge, they’ll have to reveal themselves. And their city, which means we destroy it. So they’ll sit tight. Their best hope now is to wait and hope we can’t break through their walls, and that their king and his army return in time to save them.’

  ‘Then we should get on with it, shouldn’t we?’ said Flaad. ‘We look damned silly, surrounding a bunch of trees.’

  ‘Where are the demons of the Demon’s Jaws?’ asked Yin. ‘This seems too easy. I don’t like it. Something’s wrong.’

  Kuin laughed. ‘If they arrive, they will be dealt with,’ she said.

  Nor Rispo walked up to them, his black armour coated with dust and leaves.

  ‘Is the circle complete?’ asked Yin. He nodded.

  ‘Release the Furry Ones!’ called Yin.

  Mirrors flashed her orders across the trenches, and at four points around the circle, to the north, south, east and west, vamans sent red flares shooting into the sky. Golems rolled carts out of tunnels at the northern and eastern corners of the square formed by the flares; there were cages on these carts, and in each cage around fifty little round men chattered shrilly, their big, round black eyes shining in excitement, their colourful fur garish in the bright sunlight. The cage doors were rolled back, and the furry little men bounced out of the carts, squeaking in excitement. They looked around, blinking solemnly, swayed this way and that, and almost immediately turned in unison towards the centre of the circle, and started walking jerkily into the forest, pulled by invisible strings, singing silly songs strung together from nonsensical scraps of words.

  ‘What are those things again?’ asked Flaad, sticking a hairy finger into his left ear and twisting it vigorously.

  Kuin sighed in exasperation. ‘Do keep up, Flaad,’ she said. ‘The Furry Ones are drawn towards ravians. Our agents in the forest saved them from ravian hunters. They led us here. We’re hoping they will lead us into Asroye, but even if they don’t, they will help us find out exactly where it is.’

  ‘Why?’

  Kuin shook her head. ‘Watch,’ she said.

  The furry men giggled furiously as they bounced and capered through the undergrowth; they were flanked by lines of vamans bearing large shields, ready to form a phalanx at the first sign of danger. They did not have to wait long; about five minutes after the furry men began their caper into the circle, the leader of the northern group, a fat little purple creature, stopped as if he had run into an invisible barrier, squawked in astonishment, and then disappeared.

  The vamans huddled together, their shields overlapping in turtle formation, as the rest of the furry men leaped forward and disappeared as well. From the centre of the shield-turtle, a flare streaked into the sky, bursting through the leaf-ceiling far above the vamans. Seconds later, another flare pierced the forest’s roof from the east, as the Furry Ones disappeared there, too. And then answering flames shot up from the south and west; they had been found. A phalanx of vamans on the south side of the circle watched in astonishment as the purple Furry One from the north appeared in front of them, a blob of colour materializing out of nowhere, closely followed by the rest; as soon as they appeared, they stopped, blinked, squeaked and turned around, and jumped back the way they had come. In every direction, bemused vamans watched the strange little creatures appear, turn and disappear again, flickering in and out of sight, singing their strange songs, until messages came from their commanders, and the vamans cast nets, trapped the Furry Ones and dragged them back, kicking and squealing, to the trenches. Vaman engineers calculated the distance the Furry Ones had travelled, and once they announced their findings, a cheer ran through the ranks; all doubts could be put to rest. They had found New Asroye.

  A
s the phalanxes retreated, the vaman catapults came into play; massive boulders crashed through the tree-tops as they soared towards the Hidden City. None of these found their mark; they, too, disappeared in mid-air, and reappeared in their line of travel, crashing to earth on the other end of the circle. But though the boulders caused no damage to the hidden ravian stronghold, they served the vamans well; as boulders flew in from every direction, the vamans drew their first maps of the Hidden City’s outer walls. No counter-attack came from within the invisible walls; the ravians were evidently content to wait until the vamans found a way to actually strike them. Or perhaps they simply had no means of fighting back.

  ‘Solid wall of portals all around the city, transport anything right through it, some tolerable illusion-work to make the city invisible,’ said Nor Rispo. ‘Ravians giving us architecture lessons. Hmph. Bhumi could use defences like this.’

  ‘That is all very well,’ said Kuin, ‘but how do we breach this wall? This must be why our predecessors could not find Asroye; the portals must extend underground as well, all around the city’s foundations. Golems would just go through them without even realizing it, and carry on with their search, and they wouldn’t even know that they had passed through the earthworks they sought.’

  ‘We have the numbers now,’ said Nor. ‘Let the golems reach the portals underground, and dig deeper. We will tunnel until we can emerge from under the foundations of the city.’

  Generals were summoned and orders issued. The vaman rulers sat in silence once again, watching their troops as the sun set.