Healed by Hope

by Jim Melvin

  As if Elu weren’t distressed enough, Ugga suddenly and inexplicably disappeared. Elu and his new lover spent many moments wandering the streets of Nissaya calling to the bear, using Maōi torches to light their way. Their voices, echoing in the empty causeways, were answered only by the screams and wails of the dead. For whatever reason, Ugga had seemingly chosen to depart.

  When the black cloud finally relented, the guardians of Nissaya were greeted by an overcast morning so ordinary in appearance it was as if the unnatural darkness had never occurred. Instantly, the frigid cold of the previous day gave way to pleasant warmth. Elu would have expected exultation, but instead there was distrust. Apparently, it would take several days of sunlight before anyone would believe that the ominous cloud would not return.

  Elu and Essīkka took advantage of the newfound visibility to search again for Ugga. Sugati and a dozen other black knights joined them, and they spent half the day scouring the inner sanctum. One of the villagers from the Gray Plains had brought with him a pack of well-trained cattle dogs, but even these clever beasts could find no sign. It was as if Ugga had dissolved along with the darkness.

  “Where has he gone?” Elu said. “Is he lost? Did he wander down a set of stairs and become trapped in some inner chamber?”

  “He is a wild animal,” Essīkka said. “Streets of stone are no place for him. A bear needs trees and grass and wide places to roam.”

  “That all makes sense,” Sugati agreed, “except for one thing: I’ve never heard of a scent that cattle dogs couldn’t track—whether down a set of stairs or into the wilderness.”

  Elu sighed. “I miss him. He was my friend.”

  An ordinary night came and went, and the next morning dawned bright and beautiful. Warm breezes worked through the streets of Nissaya, sweeping away the stale odors of death and decay. Not only was the black cloud gone, there was not a single cloud of any kind in the sky. A sea of blue hung over their heads, the yellow orb of the sun its only stain.

  The knights and refugees spent long stretches of time clearing away the disturbing debris of the slaughter. There were few bodies or bones, but dented and scarred pieces of black armor were scattered everywhere. Shreds of hair and patches of dried blood served as sickening reminders that carnage of unthinkable proportions had occurred within Nissaya only three weeks before.

  Few dared approach too near the wreckage of the central keep. Smoke still rose from the rubble, and if anyone looked closely enough they could see a swirling face.

  The gates of Balak, Ott, and Hakam had been destroyed, and it would be decades before they could be rebuilt to anything that resembled their former greatness. As a stopgap, the defenders erected wooden fences strong enough to at least slow an assault, even if none were expected.

  Still, not all was unpleasant. The fortress had been outfitted to accommodate more than one hundred thousand, yet only a few thousand now dwelled within the concentric bulwarks. For such a relatively small number there was food, wine, and ale aplenty, and everyone was able to secure luxurious accommodations.

  “Time heals all,” Elu thought. “But in some ways Nissaya will never heal—nor will I.”

  The Svakaran waited . . . and wondered.

  9

  Podhana the chieftain, Rati the Asēkha, Bruugash the Pabbajja overlord, and Yama-Deva the snow giant huddled within a ring of torches amid the still-glowing ruins of Uccheda. It amazed Podhana that the snow giant, even seated, was taller than a Tugar.

  Deva scratched the stub of his left forearm absentmindedly as he spoke, his voice eerily bland. “Any fiends that remain in Avici must be eliminated, but I will play no role in this. A different task awaits me. A bane even more dangerous than the fiends still exists in the world. Kilesa must not be ignored.”

  Podhana arched an eyebrow. “What threat does Avici’s sister city present?”

  “We bred the newborns there, Invictus, and then I,” Deva said. “By the tens of thousands, the Daasa were slaughtered so that the golden soldiers could be born. They were tamed by the Mahanta pEpa (the Great Evil). Those that still live are now free—though only a fraction of those brought across the sea survived the wars.”

  “You’re saying that there are still Daasa in Kilesa?” Rati asked.

  “If so, only a very few. When the Mahanta pEpa was destroyed, the Daasa that were still trapped in the Sister City transformed and revolted. It took several days to hunt them down, and they killed a dozen of us for every one of them that fell. But the Daasa are not the reason I am concerned about Kilesa. Rather, it is the sorcerer’s scientists who remain a bane upon the world. Most of them preferred Kilesa over Avici. For one thing, it was safer there. Invictus . . . and I . . . were prone to temper tantrums.” Deva sighed.

  “The catacombs that run beneath Kilesa are even larger and deeper than those beneath Uccheda—for they were etched naturally into the bedrock over the eons. In those catacombs, all manner of tests and experiments were conducted. Slaves were tortured, twisted, and mutilated. And weapons capable of killing thousands in an instant were in the works, as well. Invictus never had much interest in these weapons; he could kill thousands without any assistance. But now that he’s dead, perhaps the scientists will return to their research.”

  “Should we wait until the darkness passes?” Bruugash said.

  “The catacombs beneath the city are well-lighted,” Deva said.

  “Besides,” Podhana said, “who knows if the darkness will ever pass?”

  “The Pabbajja have already sensed a weakening,” the overlord said.

  “As have I,” Deva said. “Even so, I have no desire to wait any longer. I will begin the journey now. I could be there in a day, but I will go more slowly, if the rest of you wish to join me on this quest. I have come to enjoy the company of friends again. My mind harbors too many foul memories to walk alone in such darkness.”

  “The Pabbajja will go with you, Himamahaakaayo,” Bruugash said.

  “As will the Tugars,” Podhana said, “but not all. I will leave a force here to complete the business of destroying the fiends.”

  Podhana ordered three thousand desert warriors to remain in Avici, and he placed Dalhapa in charge. The assignment seemed to perturb the young Asēkha, but she avoided an open challenge. Podhana bowed slightly and then turned to leave. He, Rati, the remaining Asēkhas, three thousand Tugars, and one thousand Pabbajja joined Deva on the eastward march, carrying makeshift torches to light their way.

  The large company was capable of traversing the distance in little more than two days. But in the intense darkness, they found that their pace was much slower than it otherwise would have been. Though the air contained the sweet smell of Death Energy, the utter blackness still had a suffocating feel that caused hearts to race and limbs to weaken. Even Podhana—as sturdy a Tugar as there had ever been—felt himself struggling to move forward respectably.

  “This darkness reminds me of Kauha,” Rati said.

  “I do not find that surprising,” Deva said. “Kauha is the largest doorway from the Realm of Undeath to the Realm of the Living. It is not just Death Energy that weighs heavy in the air. Essence from Vedana’s kingdom permeates the dark cloud that enshrouds Triken.”

  Podhana dared a potentially dangerous question. “You know things that Yama-Deva should not know. How much of Mala remains within you?”

  If the snow giant was offended, he did not show it. “I remember . . . everything,” Deva said sadly. “But it is as if I have memorized the tales of someone else’s life. I am aware of all of Mala’s atrocities, but it does not feel to me as if Deva performed them. Does that make sense, Asēkha?”

  “Yes, it does,” Podhana admitted.

  As they continued their march, Podhana lost track of time. Was it day or night? Who knew? The company had gathered enough supplies in Avici to last for at least a w
eek, but their appetites were dampened. They walked slowly, like hunched old men, and stopped to rest far more often than was necessary. Sleep came too easily in the blackness. If not for the Golden Road, they all might have wandered into oblivion. But the stone at their feet steadied them.

  Eventually, the darkness dissipated, and an overcast morning emerged. That day they walked a little faster and covered twelve leagues before dusk, though they still felt weary and slept all through the night. A bright sunrise greeted them the next morning, renewing their spirits. Soon Kilesa came into view, a stone city no match for Avici in scope but formidable nonetheless.

  Deva halted. Podhana looked at him curiously. “Are we in danger?” Podhana said. Then he noticed that tears were welling in the snow giant’s large eyes.

  “Do you not sense it?” Deva said in barely a whisper. Then without warning, he stampeded into the city.

  “Wait!” Podhana said, but to no avail. He shouted to the others: “Follow him, but remain wary.”

  Maynard Tew stepped forward. “Master Asēkha,” he said to Podhana. “I know the best way to the catacombs, if that is where the snow giant is going. I have been to Kilesa many times, though I’m no longer proud of it. Me and my boys brought the Daasa here . . . thousands and thousands. We didn’t know what the sorcerer was doing with them, but he paid in gold, so we didn’t ask.” Then Tew looked at Dhītar, who stood nearby. “I’m a different guy now, I promise.”

  Podhana grunted. “Show us the way.”

  Tew led them to a causeway framed by weeping willows that had dropped their leaves. The drooping branches resembled wiry hair. Beyond the trees loomed Kilesa, a grotesque assemblage of square stone buildings, most just a single story in height. There were many doors made of strange white metal, but few windows. Vents sprang from the flat rooftops, and from them issued foul-smelling smoke. The ground was hard-packed, gray, and dead—and upon it Deva had left no tracks.

  An elaborate maze of alleyways ran between the snuggly fitted buildings, and Podhana realized that it would have been easy for even a Tugar to become disoriented. But Tew never halted or appeared confused, always choosing the middle path whenever there was more than one way to proceed. It wasn’t until late afternoon that they came upon a pair of huge doors that had been torn from their bolted hinges and cast aside.

  “I think he went that way,” Tew said in understated fashion.

  Podhana arched an eyebrow. “Where does it lead?”

  “It dives deep underground. The way is steep but wide. That’s one of the main places where the Daasa were herded.”

  “Is it wide enough for all of us?” Podhana said.

  “For a while, at least,” Tew said. “But it smells weird down there, and it’s kinda spooky. I wish the snow giant had waited for us. I’d feel better if he was leading the way.”

  “It appears that he is,” Bruugash said, his protruding eyes wobbling.

  Podhana left an Asēkha and half the Tugars to guard the entrance and then descended with the others into the catacombs. They filed through the battered opening and down a steep stone decline before spilling into a broad chamber that was well-lighted by peculiar glass lamps. Waist-high railings with deep-set grooves lined each wall.

  “We put yokes around the Daasa’s necks and led them with chains,” the pirate said.

  “Tew!” Dhītar cried.

  “I need to hear this,” Podhana said to the countess in admonishment. Then he turned to the pirate: “Continue.”

  Tew looked worried, but he did what he was told. “The scientist guys hooked the chains into the grooves in the railings, and they slid along on their own, as if by magic. The Daasa were dragged down deep.”

  “And you didn’t care what would happen to the Daasa?” Dhītar said, her voice incredulous.

  Tew sighed. “Where I came from, caring about somebody other than yourself was a good way to get killed.” He turned to Podhana. “But I’ve changed, Master Asēkha. I swear it. If there’s anything I can do to make it better, I will try.”

  “I am no judge,” Podhana said, but his eyes smoldered.

  Tew lowered his head and for a time spoke no more.

  They went next to another pair of doors, as ravaged as those on the surface. A wide stone passageway, also well-lighted, sank deeper into the limestone bedrock, spiraling lazily as it descended. They followed the grooved railings for what seemed to Podhana to be at least a mile, yet they saw no other living beings . . .

  . . . Until they entered the next large chamber, which was littered with bloodied bodies of various shapes and sizes, including several cave trolls and at least one Stone-Eater. Immediately, the Asēkhas and Tugars waded into the carnage, searching for clues.

  “There is no evidence of sword, tooth, or claw,” Rati said to Podhana. “The bare hands of a snow giant caused this destruction. But most of the blood is dry, and the bodies are already growing foul. This carnage occurred at least a day ago, chieftain—before Deva arrived here.”

  “What is the meaning?” Podhana said.

  “This is the cause of the snow giant’s distress,” Bruugash said. “Somehow he knew . . .”

  Now the way was no longer barren. Bodies had been cast everywhere, and some were dismembered. They also found the remains of strange monsters: some resembling serpents, others spiders, but all quite dead. And on the bloodied floor were gigantic footprints.

  “Some of these footprints have been here longer than others,” Podhana said. “It is obvious there were snow giants here before Deva.”

  At the end of this chamber, the railings came to an abrupt halt. A pair of shafts—each at least ten cubits wide—dove straight downward into darkness.

  “What now?” Podhana said.

  Rati shrugged. “It is far too sheer to climb, though there are cables along the walls that we might be able to shimmy down.”

  Tew stepped forward. “No need for that.” The pirate walked over to a metal panel between the shafts and slid open a small door. Glowing buttons were revealed, stacked two to a side. Tew pushed the top buttons, one after the other. Instantly, a grinding sound so low it resembled a purr could be heard by those nearest the shafts. In a short time two metal platforms rose into view, each littered with more bodies.

  “Cast them aside,” Podhana ordered. Then he turned to the pirate. “How many of us can each of these hold?”

  “I saw them put a couple of dozen Daasa on at a time,” Tew said. “I would think they could hold twice as many of us.”

  “How far down do these shafts delve?” Rati said.

  “That I don’t know. This room is as far as I ever went, which was fine with me. It seems awful creepy down there.”

  “I’ll go,” Dhītar said, giving Tew another scornful look.

  Podhana shook his head. “The Asēkhas and I will go, though Bruugash and Gorlong will also accompany us.” Podhana turned to the overlord. “I am sorry. It is not my intention to order you about.”

  Bruugash bowed. “I would never question an Asēkha and especially their chieftain. Lead on.”

  Podhana also bowed. Then he stood tall and spoke loud enough for all to hear. “If we have not returned within a bell, you are given permission to follow. Until then, explore and secure these upper levels.”

  Tew again came shyly forward. “Master Asēkha? Is there any way I could come along? I feel responsible, if you get my meaning. I’ve never been down there before, but I know these people and what they are capable of doing. Maybe I can help.”

  “If he goes, I go,” the countess said.

  Podhana arched an eyebrow. “Very well,” he said to Dhītar. “You have earned a spot among us.” Then he glared at the pirate. “But any signs of treachery will be dealt with mercilessly. If we choose to slay you, we will do so—regardless of any attempts to resist.”


  “Yes, sir,” Tew said.

  The platform felt surprisingly solid, with little give or sway, and it easily held the weight of its passengers, including the heavily muscled Asēkhas. Podhana watched as Tew pressed the lowest button, and instantly the platform descended, slowly at first but ever increasing in speed until it was falling so fast that Podhana believed it might have broken free of the cables. But then it slowed steadily before coming to a comfortable halt.

  “How far down have we gone?” Bruugash said with amazement in his strange voice.

  “I would guess a thousand fathoms, at least,” Podhana said.

  “Closer to twelve hundred,” Rati said.

  The rest of the Asēkhas snorted.

  Podhana was the first to step off the platform. Before him was a passageway that appeared to have been roughly hewn from the stone. Ordinary torches leaned from the walls, though only a few still burned, and the light was dim. Tew gasped and then pointed a trembling finger at one of the walls.

  “Overlord, I need more light,” Podhana said to Bruugash.

  Bruugash and Gorlong willed their tridents to glow, and they followed Podhana in the direction Tew had indicated. At the base of the stone wall was a rounded depression about the width of the bed of a small wagon. Within it were the remains of a smallish man in white robes now stained crimson with blood. Parts of the man’s body had been ground in gruesome fashion against the stone.

  “The snow giants?” Gorlong said.

  Podhana nodded. “But how many? And why?”