Healed by Hope

by Jim Melvin

  Rati watched with amusement as Tew and Dhītar snuck into a storeroom on the wall walk and locked the door. When they finally emerged, both looked worse for wear, except for the weary smiles on their faces.

  Rati anticipated the arrival of dawn with a combination of hopefulness and dread. At least in the light they would be able to see long distances from the top of the towering bridge, revealing both the city to the north and a long stretch of Iddhi-Pada to the south. However, he and the others also would be more visible to the enemy.

  When the black cloud unexpectedly chewed its way across the sky, this amazed Rati as much as anyone. The moon and stars vanished, and it became so dark that the Asēkha could not see his hand in front of his face. For a few scary moments, Gorlong’s trident was the only illumination, but then Maynard Tew approached with a torch and showed the Tugars where they could find more. In a short time, several hundred torches were mounted along the wall walk in iron ringlets; yet the firelight barely dented the darkness.

  “Asēkha, from whence came this eternal night?” Silah said. “Is the sorcerer responsible?”

  “I am reminded of Dammawansha’s vision,” Rati said to the female Tugarian warrior. “The High Monk said to me: ‘There will be only darkness, as deep as nothingness.’ Somehow, though, it does not feel evil to me.”

  Rati guessed that another bell passed before he began to hear the cacophony of eerie sounds coming from the interior of the city. At first it reminded him of the madness of Kauha, and he felt as if he again were stranded inside the swamp. But then the sounds grew louder and more horrific. When he heard screams coming from the Mahaggatans at the base of the wall, Rati realized what had occurred. The fiends, all of them, had broken free of the palisade and were attacking en masse.

  “Close the gates—and flee!” Rati shouted to the Tugars who had been stationed near the elaborate mechanisms at the base of the wall.

  A few of the Svakarans and Bhasurans were able to slip through the gates before they clanked shut. The rest—along with the Tugars—escaped over the side of the bulwark on rope ladders, which were then set on fire. All told, only about three hundred, including Gorlong, Tew, Dhītar, and all the Tugars—survived the surprise assault. Now they stood in the darkness on the outside of the Golden Wall as tens of thousands of fiends pressed against the metal gates, howling and snarling. Other fiends clambered up the steps and cast themselves off the wall walk, but they splattered when they hit the ground. Eventually the rest stopped jumping.

  Without warning, a series of booming sounds erupted from somewhere within the inner city. This seemed to further enrage the fiends, who pressed even harder against the metal grating. But the gates had been designed to forestall an invading army—and they held.

  Rati wasn’t sure what to do next. Since arriving at the border of Kauha, he and his Tugars had been besieged. A part of him felt that it was his responsibility to make sure the fiends did not escape Avici and wreak havoc on the rest of the world. But he also knew that he did not have nearly the strength to stop them, if they were to somehow find a way out.

  Then, the help they had long hoped for suddenly appeared.

  When Podhana and his large company arrived, Rati felt like jumping for joy. If there had been enough light, he would have been compelled to rush around and count every one of the new arrivals. Instead, he had to take Podhana’s word for their numbers.

  When the Asēkha informed Rati of his ascension to chieftain, Rati instantly assumed obeisance.

  “What now, chieftain?” he said.

  “We must find a way to kill all the fiends,” Podhana said.

  “But there are scores beyond even my count,” Rati said. “Killing that many will be next to impossible—and the darkness makes matters more difficult.”

  “We number six thousand Tugars and a thousand Pabbajja,” Podhana said. “We will suffice.”

  A pair of Homeless People came forward, each bearing a glowing trident. Rati recognized Gorlong, whose hair was filthier and more tangled than the others, but he did not know his companion. Podhana introduced him as Bruugash, high overlord of the Pabbajja. Even Gorlong was subservient to him.

  “Kantaara Yodhas, the Pabbajja have a plan, if you would listen,” Bruugash said. Then he gestured toward his companion. “It was Gorlong who first conceived it.”

  “You are too kind, overlord,” Gorlong said.

  “Truth is truth,” Bruugash said.

  “If you have a plan, it is one more than I possess,” Podhana said.

  Bruugash’s eyes wobbled. “The Pabbajja have suffered much. Gorlong has informed me that many score of my people perished in the swamp.”

  “I was witness to this tragedy,” Rati said. “A great number fell in Kauha, including the queen of Nissaya and the black knights who accompanied her. Of the Pabbajja, only Gorlong managed to survive.”

  “One is better than none,” Bruugash said. “Still, our losses weigh heavy on our hearts. And they have made us even more bitter and vengeful. Nothing would please us more than to play a role in the destruction of the blasphemies that are massed within the gates of Avici.”

  “Of those among us, only the Svakarans and Bhasurans—along with a Senasanan countess and her companion—are vulnerable to the bite of the fiends,” Rati said. “But the sheer weight of their numbers could cause serious harm. When the Kantaara Yodhas did battle with the fiends in Tējo, there was concern that individual Tugars could be trampled and smothered. The monsters are not entirely mindless.”

  “You are correct when you say that the Pabbajja are in no danger of transformation, though we can be damaged in other ways,” Bruugash said. “But Gorlong’s plan should enable us to destroy large numbers without too much risk.”

  Podhana and Rati listened carefully. A short while later, they and the other Asēkhas ascended the grated gates by hand, each holding a small torch between their teeth. When they reached the wall walk, an angry swarm of fiends met them. The torches provided barely enough light to see for a few cubits, but each Asēkha had trained for thousands of hours in deep darkness and knew how to fight blindly. They spread out just far enough to be in no danger of each other’s blades, and then methodically dispatched the fiends as they made their way down an inner stairwell toward the mechanisms that worked the gate on the eastern side of the river. Podhana and the Asēkhas formed a partial ring around Rati, who’d already become accustomed to the intricate mechanical workings of the device.

  The gate swung open just a crack.

  Rati rushed through. Podhana and the others followed. Standing shoulder to shoulder less than a stone’s throw from the near bank were the Pabbajja, their tridents aimed toward the river like glowing pikes. The Asēkhas sprinted along the edge of the river until they came to the end of the line of Pabbajja, then turned and watched as a stream of fiends poured through the opening of the gate and trundled along the riverbank only a few feet from the water’s edge.

  The Pabbajja waited until at least a thousand of the monsters had made it through the opening before unleashing their power. Magic from their tridents blew outward like dragon fire, setting the fiends aflame. Some burst asunder while others tumbled into the river, where they would be battered to pieces on razor-sharp stones. Tugars rushed in from behind the Pabbajja and cast slews of ruined bodies into the raging currents.

  Soon after, a thousand more fiends met the same fate. Rati feared that the monsters would comprehend their danger and refuse to exit through the gates. But the fiends that loomed behind the others did not have a clear view of what was occurring, and they were not able to sense the full extent of the danger.

  More and more monsters met their doom, falling like dry grass succumbing to flame. Rati estimated that in a bell’s time, the Pabbajja had killed an amazing five thousand score. But it was taking a terrible toll. The Homeless People were weary, and the
ir fire was growing less lethal. A few even collapsed from exhaustion. Rati and a hundred Tugars were finally forced to call a halt to the slaughter and slam the gates shut from the outside, bracing them with boulders so that no more fiends could pass through the narrow opening. Afterward, the great among them gathered to assess what had been accomplished—and at what cost.

  Bruugash leaned against his trident, white clouds puffing from his mouth in the increasingly chilly air. “They are too many,” the overlord said. “And we are too weary. We must rest for at least a day before we can expend such energy again.”

  “How many do you think are left?” Podhana said to Rati.

  “At least twice as many as were slain, which was no small number.”

  Gorlong’s eyes wobbled even more than usual. “I am sorry, Kantaara Yodhas. My plan has failed.”

  Podhana smiled, then patted the Pabbajja on the crown of his hairy head. “You did anything but fail. The enemy has been reduced. And now you have given me an idea.” Then he looked at Bruugash. “It is the Tugars’ turn to wreak havoc. I know that you are exhausted, but does enough of your strength remain to manage light instead of fire?”

  “Despite our weariness, I believe that this can still be done,” the overlord said.

  When the boulders were removed and the gate swung open again, more fiends poured through the breach. But instead of incineration from the Pabbajja’s tridents, they met the wicked blades of the Tugars. In the dim glow the weary Pabbajja provided, uttaras flashed and gleamed.

  The fiends came on, heedless of the danger. The desert warriors threw the corpses into the river as quickly as they were slain. The Ogha, ever hungry, carried them away. The wide and powerful river did not clog. Body parts, bloated and hideous, would probably be found along the banks for weeks to come, attracting every form of scavenger. But none of the horrid undines would survive. When the host body was destroyed, the demonic worms also perished.

  Despite having had little food or sleep for several days, the Tugars did not tire, so supreme was their endurance. Rati took forty-nine heads before trading places with another warrior to play the role of street cleaner, dragging countless bodies and tossing just as many heads into the water. Still the fiends came, foaming at the mouth like rabid dogs. But though their numbers were stupendous, they were not infinite—and with each of the six thousand Tugars killing dozens apiece, the stream of fiends lessened until it became just a trickle.

  And finally . . . nothing.

  Pools of blood, gore, and dead worms, in places more than ankle deep, were splattered along the riverbank for half a mile or more. Rati found a lighted torch, propped it in a crevice between two rocks, and then splashed water on his face. Podhana knelt beside him in the dim firelight and did the same.

  “How many fell?” Podhana finally asked him.

  “Most but not all,” Rati said. “Some of the fiends must have wandered elsewhere. It’s possible . . . probable . . . that tens of thousands are still wandering the streets of Avici—or elsewhere within the Golden Wall. There is a wide expanse of land between Avici and Kilesa.”

  “Can any escape beyond the wall? That would not be a good thing.”

  “I would think not, but who really knows?”

  Podhana sat on his haunches and sighed. From this short distance, Rati could barely recognize his face in the darkness. “You say there is food and wine aplenty inside the gate?” he said hopefully.

  “More than enough for many drunken feasts,” Rati said. “Still, an important task remains, does it not?”

  “Uccheda . . . I know. But if we are to assault the tower, we will need all our strength. I have no idea what time of day it is, but I believe it is far past dawn. Even Tugars need sustenance and rest. I do not remember the last time I slept more than a few moments.”

  “If Laylah is imprisoned in the tower, every moment she spends in Uccheda will be equal to a lifetime of horrors.”

  Podhana sighed. “I have witnessed the sorcerer’s powers first-hand. The Torgon saw them too and ordered the Asēkhas and Tugars to flee, knowing that we would be helpless against him. If Invictus holds Laylah in the tower, we lack the might to rescue her.”

  This amazed Rati. “Will we not make the attempt?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Podhana said. “But first we will rest. In the meantime, perhaps the darkness will lose its infernal grip.”

  Rati nodded. “It will be as you command, chieftain.”

  Guided by the light of tridents and torches, they entered the gates. The open areas they encountered were eerily empty. Either every fiend in the vicinity had been slain, or those that survived had finally realized their peril and wandered to locations where their human prey didn’t put up such a ferocious fight. The Tugars and Pabbajja entered Avici and quickly found numerous places to eat and sleep. The homes and businesses contained a plethora of lamps and candles. But even when lighted, no fiends approached.

  There was no way to determine the time of day or how long they slept. The outside air grew even chillier, but inside they lay beside blazing hearths. It pleased Rati to see that the Pabbajja ate ordinary food and drank copious amounts of wine, though the Asēkha never was able to detect even a hint of lips or teeth behind all the hair. Only the protruding eyes were visible, yet Rati found that he somehow was able to read their expressions. And he grew to love his diminutive companions.

  Eventually, Podhana called them all together to begin a cautious march up the main causeway. Quickly they encountered pockets of fiends, some numbering one hundred or more, which were easily dispatched. Otherwise, the city was lifeless and devoid of light. Rati felt like he was walking inside a haunted cavern a thousand fathoms beneath the surface of the world.

  The company wound this way and that and might have become lost had the main road not been broader than the lesser avenues. They moved slowly and drearily toward the apex of the dead volcano upon which Avici had been constructed. When they reached the top and gazed into the darkness, what they saw amazed them. The ruins of Uccheda were spread in all directions, glowing like the cinders of a fire kicked angrily apart. Millions of tons of golden stone glowed dimly, yet there was enough illumination to create a temporary oasis in the otherwise disconcerting darkness. Down they went, cautious yet curious.

  Tew and Dhītar approached Rati, each bearing a smoking torch.

  “I would not have believed it if I had not seen it with my own eyes,” the pirate said. “The tower was too strong to fall. Who has this kind of power?”

  Rati shook his head. “I have no idea. But let’s hope the sorcerer fell along with it.”

  They walked among the glowing chunks of crumbled stone, searching for signs of survivors. Amazingly, a lone and mighty tree remained standing amid the rubble, as if too stubborn to be uprooted by the upheavals. Eventually, the Tugars and Pabbajja, seven thousand strong, gathered around an enormous slab of gold-coated stone that must have weighed more than a hundred tons.

  Yet something beneath it was great enough to cause the slab to quiver.

  “Chieftain, do we dare move this obstruction?” Rati said. “What if the sorcerer is trapped beneath?”

  Podhana chuckled ruefully. “The sorcerer would not be hindered, even by this.” Then he held his arms aloft. “Tugars! I have a task for you.”

  The desert warriors pressed against the slab and slid it aside with relative ease, revealing a misty stairwell clogged with debris. From the battered darkness arose a being far larger, in stature, than Invictus.

  “Yama-Deva,” Podhana said.

  The snow giant looked about—and then smiled, revealing fangs that Rati did not find threatening.

  “I have decided that I’m not quite ready to die,” Deva said.

  “I am more than pleased,” Podhana said. Then in almost a whisper: “The Torgon? Was he here?”

/>   “He was. I know naught where he has gone, but I believe he still lives.”

  Podhana sighed. “And Invictus?”

  “He is no longer.”

  There was a collective gasp. Then the chieftain knelt at the giant’s feet and pressed his face against the valley floor—in obeisance.

  Unabashedly, Rati joined him.

  As did seven thousand others, including the rascally pirate.

  4

  ALMOST TWO WEEKS had passed since Rati and the nineteen Tugars had departed Anna in their quest to unveil the meaning of the High Monk’s vision. Since then, Aya had noted that several events of significance had happened in and around the Tent City in the desert Tējo. First, the Simōōn had been rebuilt, and for this there was rejoicing. But two days later, on the eve of the quarter moon, Gutta had sensed his ascension to Asēkha, an occurrence that had brought little pleasure to anyone in the Tent City, including Gutta himself. Somewhere, another Asēkha had fallen.

  “Rati, are you with us no longer?” Gutta had wondered. “Or has one of the other Viisati perished in a far-off land?”

  Not long after, all of the Tugars remaining in Anna, including Aya, had been dealt another blow. In unison they experienced the demise of The Torgon, casting the inhabitants of the Tent City into despair. Those who had been blinded in the battle with Tathagata seemed to suffer most of all. Even worse, they knew neither how nor what had occurred, surmising only that their king had fallen at the hands of Mala or the sorcerer. Who else had the power to commit such a heinous crime? And who now would lead the Tugars? Kusala was the obvious successor, but it was even possible that he was among the fallen and the reason for Gutta’s ascension. It was as if the citizens of Anna had been cut off from all news of the outside world. The times were dire, indeed.

  The peculiar darkness that came next had caused even more distress. Near dawn, the cloud had approached from the northwest like a rushing tide, flooding the sky with blue-blackness as opaque as stone. Most of the inhabitants of the Tent City already were awake and beginning their morning ablutions when the darkness appeared, throwing the lesser among them into a state of confusion. It had been difficult for Aya to gather everyone together, even with the help of a thousand Tugars and their Vasi masters. Still, most had reacted with relative calmness, using torches woven from sagebrush leaves to light their way. Even the little girl Nimm and her foster mother Ura had been brave about it.