by Jim Melvin
Could she be wrong about this? Perhaps he wielded the power to make her wrong. But Rathburt knew in his heart that it would take a supreme act of cowardice to break the web of fate that wove his ruin. He would have to abandon not just a friend, but an entire generation of living beings. Even worse, he might be dooming more than just Triken. All life might be imperiled. And the scariest thing? This was one of the rare times when he wasn’t being overly dramatic.
Was it possible he was enough of a coward to doom thousands of living beings—or perhaps thousands of thousands—just so that he could avoid a painful death? Rathburt had been placed in position to play a pivotal role in the elimination of one of the great scourges of cosmic history. All he had to do was be brave.
But there was bravery.
And there was bravery.
There was death by illness, fire, or sword.
And there was death so painful that the mind could not accept it.
To make matters more excruciating, Rathburt’s vision at the waterfall had made him aware of his torturous ending long before it would occur. He hadn’t even been permitted the blessedness of ignorance.
Regardless, he knew the truth: it all boiled down to cowardice. And of that, Rathburt had plenty. He had managed to overcome it a few times in his life. But whatever courage he contained seemed to have been used up.
“I’m sorry, Torgon,” he said out loud. “I’m not you. I’m not even an ordinary Tugar. I’m just Rathburt, the gardener.”
Then he stood, grabbed his staff.
And ran.
Rathburt had spent most of his long life running from one thing or another, and now he was doing it again. Through the night, the day, and into the following evening, he had scrambled, stumbled, and crawled as if his greatest fears pursued him. Even this far south, Dhutanga was dark and foreboding, exaggerating every sound and movement. The ordinary oaks and pines seemed as dangerous as the black trees of the inner forest. As the coward fled, his inner demons were eager to tag along.
Eventually, he came to Cariya. The river blocked his path with frothy ferocity. Ironically, where he now stood was not more than a stone’s throw from where the canoe had overturned almost three weeks before. It felt like months.
Rathburt could not cross, which left him with three choices: go north even deeper into the forest, where he would face untold dangers; go south to the Green Plains, where the white horsemen might confront him; or turn around and go back. None of these felt right.
A small but eager part of him knew there was a fourth choice. Cast himself into the angry river and leave this lifetime behind. He would avoid so much pain, if he did just that. “Or would I?”
Rathburt realized, with a start, that he had said those words out loud. And then even more startling, there came an answer, clearly audible despite the roar of the rapids.
“There is only one way for a living being to avoid pain.”
Rathburt yelped and looked about. At first he saw nothing. But then he noticed a spire of rock in the middle of the river, and upon it sat a petite woman, her body aglow.
“You there!” Rathburt said. “Are you speaking to me?”
There was no response.
Puzzled, Rathburt said, “How did you get on that rock?” Then, “Do you need help?”
The woman laughed. “Rathburt . . . Rathburt . . . You ask me how I came to be here, but the better question is, how came you to this place? You are a gentle soul . . . and deserve better than all this torment, though I suppose the same could have been said of me.”
“Deserve’s got nothing to do with it,” Rathburt said.
There was more laughter. “Not so, my friend . . . not so at all.”
“Who are you?” Rathburt called. “Are you a demon? One of Vedana’s kin come to torment me?”
“Ha! I am no demon, though I’ve been called worse. Am I related to Vedana? Certainly not.”
Rathburt could hear her as clearly as if she were standing a pace away, but she was difficult to see clearly, as if blurred by mist. “Whoever you are, I just want you to leave me alone. I have enough problems as it is.” He tried his best to sound brave. “I am not defenseless. If you threaten me, I will retaliate.”
“Retaliate? Against a skinny old woman?”
Rathburt sighed, a sudden realization come upon him. “I know you.”
“Yes, you do . . . though it’s been a long time since we last spoke.”
“Torg said you were at the havens south of Dibbu-Loka. How is it possible that you are here now? Are you dead? Are you a ghost?”
The woman laughed even louder, slapping her knee with a bony hand. It took her quite some time to regain her composure. Finally, she said, “I am neither dead nor a ghost. I am awake.”
Rathburt took a step back. “If that is so, then why are you here?”
The glow around the woman intensified. “I am high among the low, but low among the high. A favor has been asked of me from those above. They have concerns.”
“Why tell me this?”
“You know full well.”
Rathburt sneered. “As usual, you speak in vagaries.”
“It’s an old habit of mine, I admit. It saves me from having to explain the same concepts over and over. Anyway, as much as I’m enjoying our tête-à-tête, it will soon be time for me to go.”
“Good.”
“So listen to me carefully. What I have to say is of extreme importance. Rathburt, you must perform the task that has been set before you. If you do not, you will suffer immeasurably.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Tccch! I am beyond such pettiness. This has nothing to do with anything I might or might not do. I am just a messenger.”
Rathburt pounded the tail of his staff onto the ground. “I have no desire to hear your message.”
The woman smiled. “In a way, I can’t blame you. If I had known in advance what my future held, I too would have fled . . . far, far away. Very well, I will trouble you no further. Only, will you listen to one final thing before I depart?”
“If it means that you’ll leave me alone, I’d be delighted.”
The woman laughed one last time. “Heed my words, Rathburt, and heed them well. If you do the brave thing, you’ll have your garden. You’ll have many gardens. If you don’t, all you’ll ever have is pain.”
Then the glow dissolved and she was gone.
Rathburt stood frozen in place.
“LOOK AT HER!” Vedana shouted. “Even dead, Tathagata is skinny as a starving mouse.”
“As you know full well, she isn’t dead,” Peta said. “And she chooses to appear this way. She has always been humble.”
“Tathagata? Humble? Ha! That shows what little you know. No one who talks as much as she does should ever be described as humble.”
“She doesn’t just talk. She teaches. And she learns. She is enlightened, Mother . . . something you will never be.”
“Why would I want to be enlightened? I love being me,” Vedana said, sounding as if she were crooning. “I want to stay me, not enter into Blissville with a bunch of ancient cronies. All this talk about suffering and impermanence puts me to sleep. What could possibly be more boring? I want rape, murder, mayhem! The more the merrier, as the Vasi masters like to say. You’ll see . . . when I’m in charge of the world, it will be a far more interesting place in which to live.”
“As I’ve said countless times before, I won’t see,” Peta said. “By the time you’re ‘in charge,’ as you put it, I will be no longer, and my karma will have proceeded to a better place than this.”
“Yeah? By better, you mean more boring. Well, good riddance to you and to all your goody-goody friends! I hope the whole lot of you goes to a ‘better place than this.’ In fact, when I’m in control, I’ll be sure to help you on your way with swift kicks in the arse!”
Peta sighed. “Overconfidence is dangerous. The potential still exists for Rathburt to fail.”
“If Rathburt fails, I will b
e sure to take him with me—in the most painful way possible. In fact, I think what I’ll do is trap him inside my realm, where he’ll be forced to spend eternity. I’ve done this to others, far more important than that slump-shouldered coward. If The Torgon only knew . . . ha!” Vedana paused, then added, “If I’m going to be stuck there, so is Rathburt.”
“Then you had better hope that Tathagata said enough to sway him.”
“If Sis didn’t convince him, I won’t be the only one doomed by my grandson’s power.”
“But you’ll be the only one you care about. In that regard, you’re more of a narcissist than Bhayatupa.”
“True! And I’m proud of it.”
Afterward the demon and the ghost-child grew silent. Peta sat in the darkness and allowed her thoughts to drift. But eventually she spoke again. “You know, one day I will join Tathagata in perfect blessedness. Not in this lifetime . . . but one day.”
“You’ve foreseen this too?”
“No . . . but unlike you, I have potential.”
RATHBURT WASN’T THE only one in pain. Anguish also wracked another being. She sat on a ledge near the peak of a towering mountain, six others of her kind surrounding her. Tonight the snow giants had lost a treasured kinsman, sensing Utu’s demise in psychic unison.
“Jiivitam maranam anugacchati! (Death follows life!)” Bhari chanted through her tears.
The others repeated her words.
Utu’s wife then said, “Maranam jivitam anugacchati! (Life follows death!)”
These words were also repeated.
Afterward Bhari stood and screamed—her pain as immense as the mountain on which she stood. “Utu! Why?” Bhari’s voice echoed among a dozen peaks. But her fallen mate was no longer among the living of her world.
And could not hear.
33
AFTER DEPARTING Avici, Bhayatupa flew aimlessly for three days among the peaks of Mahaggata, taking pleasure in the cool air of the upper heights. But more and more he found himself drawn away from the mountaintops, as if a salubrious presence lured him. Vedana, or more precisely, Peta the ghost-child, could have told him why and where he should go. But the great dragon was weary of being just another pawn in their myriad schemes. He decided to discover what beckoned him without their help.
Bhayatupa flew southwest toward Jivita, which is where he eventually intended to go, anyway. Vedana had told him that Ulaara was with Invictus. Destroying the black dragon superseded all else, even if it meant again exposing himself to the sorcerer’s wrath. Before he left this body and was reborn elsewhere, he would avenge the murder of his son.
The moon was full when Bhayatupa finally settled in a broad cove just west of Cariya, landing oh-so-delicately amid a tangle of trees. Whatever it was that he sought was hidden nearby. Rather than attempt to scare it into showing itself, Bhayatupa lay still and did not move. He had no desire to frighten the being. Instead, it was as if he had discovered a long-lost brother.
Bhayatupa waited until the full moon was directly overhead before he broke the silence. “I know you are there . . . and I mean you no harm. Will you not speak to me?”
From somewhere in the darkness, a trembling voice replied, “Since when have you meant no harm?”
“Do you not sense our connection?”
A long silence followed. Then: “I sense something. But I don’t know what it is.”
“I have died . . . and returned,” Bhayatupa said.
Another long silence. Then, “What do you want from me?”
“Nothing more than pleasant conversation. We have much in common, you and me. Will you not show yourself?”
“Pleasant conversation? I don’t believe you.”
“An exchange, then . . . of knowledge.”
“I know so little . . . and you so much.”
“Once I would have agreed with you. But no longer. Please . . . show yourself. You are safe among the trees.”
The man who emerged from the darkness was a thin, slumped version of The Torgon. Bhayatupa’s eyes flared—and glowed. Tiny crimson flames sprang from his nostrils, but now they contained tendrils of blue.
“I guess not everything that Vedana told me was a lie,” Bhayatupa said. “The demon has spoken to me of your importance.”
The man lowered himself and sat cross-legged on the fallen trunk of a long-dead oak. “That’s good of her.”
Bhayatupa laughed, though it sounded more like the grumblings of an earthquake. “The demon cares naught for others, it is true. I used to be like her, but I have changed.”
“From being a mean dragon to a nice dragon? Instead of killing and eating people, you’re now going to fly around all day and perform good deeds? How about doing one for me? Put me out of my misery.”
“Will you not perform the task set before you? I know some version of it, though it is probably distorted.”
“Would you perform it, distorted or not?”
“Even in my former madness, I did not fear pain.”
“This will extend beyond pain.”
“Nonetheless,” Bhayatupa said, “I would do it.”
Rathburt sighed. “You know what the worst thing is? I believe you. And I also believe that Torg would do it too, along with a myriad of others. I appear to be the only craven of the bunch. But then I’ve always been a coward surrounded by heroes.”
“You underestimate yourself, Death-Knower.”
“That’s what Torg always says.”
“Your master is wise.”
In a sarcastic tone: “My master? Ha!” Then, in a humbler tone: “My master . . . is that what he is?”
“Is he not your king?”
Rathburt seemed puzzled. “My . . . master.” Then the wizard looked up at the dragon, as if seeing him for the first time. “We both seem to know what’s in store for me,” Rathburt said. “But what about you? Have you been told your future?”
Bhayatupa snorted. “An excellent question. For an Adho Satta, you are wise. I’m sure that Vedana knows something about my fate, but she has blessedly spared me the details. However, I do have plans of my own, whether foreseen or not. An enemy of mine, long hidden, has reappeared. I shall pay him a visit in the near future.”
“Why don’t you pay Invictus a visit, instead? Your killing him could save us all a lot of trouble.”
“Alas, I have tried . . . and failed. I am no longer too proud to admit that the sorcerer is beyond me, though I might yet play a role in his destruction.”
“My role will be short and . . . sweet,” Rathburt said.
Bhayatupa eyed him carefully. “Before I depart, there is something I can do to lessen your torment—friend to friend.”
“We are friends?”
“Our commonality appeals to me. Is that not friendship?”
“Perhaps . . .”
“Then come to me—and face me.”
Bhayatupa did not expect the wizard to trust him enough to comply, but Rathburt walked directly to the dragon and stopped just three paces from his nostrils, each of which was large enough to swallow the man’s head.
“Close your eyes,” Bhayatupa said.
Rathburt obeyed.
Bhayatupa inhaled deeply, his great ribs expanding until they pressed against trees on both sides, and then slowly exhaled. Crimson smoke tinged with sparkles of blue oozed from his mouth and nostrils, encompassing the wizard in a thick, sensual cloud of dragon essence blended with death energy. Rathburt breathed it in, hesitantly at first but with increasing enthusiasm.
Afterward the wizard said, “I’m tired.”
“Sleep then,” Bhayatupa said. “I will watch over you.”
Rathburt obeyed again.
“HE DID IT,” Vedana crowed. “The pathetic little fool did it. Just as you said he would.”
“He’s not a fool,” Peta said. “He’s actually a wonderful man, once you get to know him. Unlike you, he has a future. Perhaps I will be part of it.”
“Yeah, yeah . . . whatever.” Then the demon s
lapped the ghost-child’s physical incarnation on the back. “This is cause for celebration, daughter. I feel better about our plan than I have in a long time. Rathburt was the one most likely to mess things up. Now that he’s breathed dragon essence, he’ll be brave as a warrior . . . at least long enough to fulfill his role.”
“I believe he would have had the courage, regardless.”
“I believe he would have had the courage, regardless,” Vedana mimicked. “You act like you’re in love with him or something. Well, there he is . . . sleeping like a baby. Go over there and grope him before he wakes up. That’s what I’d do.”
Peta sighed. “Do you have any idea how disgusting you are?”
“Yes! Isn’t it wonderful?”
FROM HIGH IN the trees, where even Vedana could not see her, the Faerie also watched. As Vijjaadharaa, she was beyond the foresight of the ghost-child or the demon, so she feared naught their awareness. But her attention was on neither. Instead, she focused her gaze on the dragon.
Hatred was not a trait of her genus. For the most part, the Vijjaadharaa lacked feelings of any kind. However, when they assumed living form for long periods of time, they were capable of absorbing the characteristics of the creatures they impersonated. Jord, the white-haired woman; Sakuna, the mountain eagle; and Bhojja, the huge, jade horse, had been incarnated among the living on Triken longer than the dragon had been alive. And during this extensive exposure, she had acquired an overly large taste of the sensation of emotion.
The Faerie had grown to love the mountain eagles. When Bhayatupa slaughtered them, she had grown to hate the dragon, and a part of her wanted to pounce upon the dragon’s back and attempt to break his spine. But the Faerie chose not to attack. She knew that Bhayatupa had an important role to play, and she would not doom everyone just to appease her own thirst for vengeance. Nothing she could do would bring the eagles back to life. Their karmas had long since moved on. So she waited and watched.
Before dawn, she took to the skies and soared toward Jivita.
