Healed by Hope

by Jim Melvin

  A dozen or so white wolves watched him from a distance, curious but wary. They were smaller than black mountain wolves and no match for a snow giant, even if they had been a hundred times their number. Deva sat down cross-legged on top of a boulder coated with green lichen, and he gazed at the wolves with a broad smile on his face, their grace and beauty enamoring him. He waved the stub of his left forearm at them, as if to introduce himself. When they finally passed out of view, he felt sad.

  To the northwest rose a tightly packed wall of mountains that was greater than any he had yet encountered. Each was as tall and as menacing as Asubha. The bulwarks of Nissaya were mere trifles in comparison.

  Nirodha lay beyond.

  Deva began to climb. At first the going was easy, but he eventually encountered cliffs that rivaled those more commonly found in Okkanti. Without the use of two hands, he struggled, and by the time he reached the upper heights and crossed through the mountains on a high pass, it was almost midnight, and the moon was full overhead. A frozen wind blasted his face, causing his eyes to water. Apparently, spring held no sway over this foreign land.

  To the northwest the sky was filled with flashing lights that emanated from a blazing corona. Filaments and streamers leapt outward like multicolored bolts of lightning. Deva stood in amazement and gazed at the vastness of Nirodha. It was so beautifully empty it almost made him want to give up his quest and continue to live. Yet a larger part of him knew that he could not. The compulsion was too profound.

  The climb down was easier. Deva was able to leap from ledge to ledge, sometimes falling several hundred cubits, yet landing with the grace of a cat. Nirodha lay before him like a magnificent white valley. A series of rolling foothills ended quickly, and afterward, the frozen wasteland became as flat as the Gray Plains.

  The ancient snow was hard and crunchy. From what little he knew of Nirodha, it was as dry here as a desert. But the snow did not melt, and a sheet of ice more than a league thick covered most of the vast glacier, which extended from the Y-shaped head of Mahaggata all the way to the western shore of the Ice Ocean.

  Millennia ago, humans used to trek into the foothills of Okkanti, and Deva would converse with them. A few spoke of expeditions in Nirodha, where they had hunted blubbery creatures they called elephant-seals. In turn, white bears twice as large as mountain wolves had hunted the men. There also were several species of sea birds, including some that swam like fish in the oceans beyond the glacier but did not fly. The humans left these birds alone because their flesh tasted terrible. In Deva’s mind all flesh tasted terrible—but not in Mala’s.

  Yet another reason to desire death.

  Once he was away from the wall of mountains, it quickly became very windy. Ordinary humans, if not clad in heavy clothing, would have perished before morning, but this did not affect Deva. No level of cold—at least within the confines of this world—could cause him much discomfort. He trudged forward through the angry darkness without cessation, using the swirling lights in the northern sky as his beacon.

  It will not be long now, he thought. Soon I will find what I am after.

  Whatever creatures he encountered fled before him.

  Including the bears.

  He was Yama-Deva, greatest of all the snow giants.

  But he also was Mala. And what could be more frightening than that?

  53

  VEDANA’S SUSPICIONS grew. Had Peta played a little trick on her before departing this world? The ghost-child had told her that Invictus’s son would be easy to control, especially if she took him to a place where it was cold. But soon after kidnapping the child, Vedana found that he was anything but docile. Instead, he seemed feisty and dangerous, a sort of miniature Invictus. The physical damage the boy had incurred during his death in Laylah’s womb was supposed to have left him pliable and compliant. Yet he had twice tried to scorch her: once while inside her own realm, the second time when they re-emerged into the Realm of Life. Vedana had been forced to use the amulet far sooner than she had wanted, though perhaps it was for the best. Better to blunt his resistance right from the start than to allow him to build confidence. He was Akanittha (the highest power), of that there was no doubt, but was he her pawn?

  If not, she would have to kill him. As much as she wanted to be freed from purgatory, Vedana knew it would be preferable to keep things as is rather than have another Sun God with an independent mind on the loose.

  The amulet had worked. Even she hadn’t been sure that it would. Used against Invictus when he was fully grown, it would have been a trifle. But against his infant son, it had done the trick. As soon as Vedana had tied it to his neck, the boy had quieted down and behaved.

  Still . . . there was something not quite right.

  The look in his eyes.

  The set of his lips.

  The certainty of his gaze.

  It reminded her, disconcertingly, of Invictus.

  Like father, like son?

  But too much like father?

  Sovaōōa clearly had been uncomfortable in the boy’s presence. When the great dragon finally had landed in the heart of Nirodha and deposited Vedana and the boy on the cold ice, she then had departed quickly.

  “They call Nirodha a wasteland, but it is anything but,” Sovaōōa said, attempting to sound unperturbed by the child. “There’s a lot to eat here, and I’m starving. After I’ve fed, I’ll return to see how the two of you are doing.”

  “You do that,” Vedana snarled. “Otherwise the two of us will return to see how you are doing.”

  Sovaōōa hadn’t liked the sound of that—and she had sprung away in a huff, leaving Vedana alone with the newborn Sun God. Vedana, usually the one who terrorized others, hated to admit that the boy made her . . . nervous. She didn’t like the way the newborn looked at her, as if he knew her and it amused him. Plus, he did not appear the least bit cold or uncomfortable, despite being naked. And another thing. The boy had eaten nothing since his violent birth, yet he was . . . growing.

  It was time to begin training the boy, and the best way to train human children was to make them sit still. Using her magic, Vedana constructed a pair of thrones made of snow and ice, hers purposely taller and broader than the boy’s. She placed him upon the smaller throne and then sat upon her own. It was nearly morning, and the full moon was descending toward the western horizon, as if yet another companion was deserting her. Being a creature of darkness, Vedana did not fear the night. Nonetheless, she found herself craving the approach of dawn. In the sunlight, maybe there would be something for her physical incarnation to see other than the boy’s sinister grin. At this point she wouldn’t even mind looking at one of those weird wingless birds.

  When dawn arrived, there was no sign of Sovaōōa. Vedana began to wonder if the golden dragon had deserted her and fled to some faraway place. Vedana knew she could find Sovaōōa no matter where she hid, but it might be time-consuming and annoying. Besides, she already had her hands full with the boy. The last thing she needed was more problems.

  And at the moment, Vedana felt uncharacteristically in need of . . . a friend.

  All right, there was no use denying it. The boy spooked her. For instance, he sat upright on his throne with his head held high. The muscles of his neck should not have been that strong. Plus he never cried . . . for food or solace. He just sat and stared—and every once in a while, reached gingerly for the amulet that pressed against his throat, cringing less and less when it glowed angrily to punish him for daring to touch it with his fingers. It was as if he was testing the ancient magic, believing that it would not be long before he could defeat it. As far as Vedana was concerned, this was not good news. How could she train the boy if he didn’t fear her?

  Already she could feel her millennia-long plans unraveling. Peta had told her he would be compliant! Had the little bitch dared to lie? Or had she sim
ply been wrong? Not even the ghost-child was perfect.

  At midmorning, Sovaōōa returned. Vedana had never been so happy to see anyone or anything. The titanic dragon had something in her mouth, and she landed just a stone’s throw from the boy and deposited a large cow bloated with milk.

  “I borrowed this from some farmers making their way toward the markets of Kamupadana,” Sovaōōa said.

  “I thought you were hunting for mammoths,” Vedana said, again distrustful.

  “I was only trying to help,” the dragon said. “Even a Sun God needs food. And for your information, I did eat a mammoth. Just look at my stomach.”

  Sovaōōa’s stomach did look swollen, even if it already had been as thick as a building. Still, Vedana didn’t want to give the dragon too much credit. “Well, what should I do with the cow? Did you bring—what do they use?—a skin for the baby to suck on?”

  “You expect me to do everything? Can’t you blip somewhere, grab one, and blip back?”

  Vedana walked forward and gestured for the dragon to lower her enormous snout. Then she whispered, “I don’t dare leave him, even for a moment. There’s something wrong.”

  Then Vedana yelped. The boy had stridden beside her as confidently as a ten-year-old. And he was damn near as big as one. He smiled at her and then went to the cow, dropped to his knees, and began to suckle a teat. The stunned beast stood motionless and permitted the human to feed.

  “You’re right, he was hungry,” Vedana said.

  Sovaōōa shrugged her titanic shoulders. “What do you want me to do now?”

  “Stay here and help.”

  “Help? How?”

  “Stay . . . watch . . . talk to me . . .”

  “Vedana, if I didn’t know better, I might think you’re frightened.”

  Vedana looked at the boy, who suckled so violently that blood was mixing with the milk. The cow groaned.

  “I’m just off to a slow start,” Vedana whispered. “I need some . . . suggestions.”

  “Suggestions?”

  “Yes! You know. Hints? Ideas? You’ve lived for damn near as long as I have. Haven’t you learned anything useful in all that time?”

  “Yes. I learned that humans did as they were told or I killed them. I learned to fear Bhayatupa and not much else. That little thing over there weighs less than one of my scales . . .”

  “Shhhhhhh!”

  “Vedana, this is not like you. What’s going on?”

  “Don’t say anything to upset him.”

  Finally the boy finished his meal and let out a spirited burp. Cherry-colored milk oozed from the corners of his mouth. Then he smiled, stood gracefully, and returned to the throne. Soon after, the cow collapsed and breathed its last.

  Sovaōōa sniffed it and then recoiled. “It stinks like carrion!”

  The boy laughed, startling both Vedana and the dragon.

  Sovaōōa cringed. “I think you made the right decision to get that amulet.”

  Vedana also cringed. “You were around Invictus more than a few times,” she whispered. “After all, he forced you to breed with the condors.”

  Sovaōōa growled. “And nothing could have been more disgusting.”

  “When it came to Invictus’s tastes, what you did for him only scratched the surface of disgusting,” Vedana said. “But look at the boy’s face. Is not the resemblance uncanny?”

  The dragon lowered her snout so that it was just a span from Vedana’s physically incarnated ear. “Vedana,” the dragon whispered, “we are talking about Invictus’s son. It would be troublesome if they did not look alike.”

  The boy continued to watch them with his sparkling brown eyes.

  “That’s not what I mean,” Vedana said. “It’s not just a physical resemblance. The way he walks. The way he smiles. The way he breathes. As I said before, something is wrong. Is it possible that Peta betrayed me? That she knew all along that I would be unable to control the boy?”

  “If so, you and I should go far away . . . fast!”

  “There is no place far enough.”

  Suddenly Sovaōōa froze. Then she raised her head high in the air—and sniffed. “Vedana, something approaches from the south.”

  Harsh laughter erupted from below. The boy pointed at one of the dragon’s scales. For the first time, he spoke intelligible words—his voice shrill. “Yes . . . yes . . .”

  A tendril of yellow light erupted from his finger and struck the scale. There was a muffled shout, and then a little girl emerged and fell at least ten cubits, spilling awkwardly onto the ice. By chance, the snow was more fluffy than usual, providing enough of a cushion to spare her life.

  The dragon sprang into the air.

  But Vedana hardly noticed any of this. All she could think about was the boy.

  Invictus’s son had used magic.

  And the amulet had lacked the might to stop him.

  54

  All through the night, Jord—in the form of Sakuna the mountain eagle—followed the sparkling green trail the Vijjaadharaa had left. Eventually, it led to Nirodha, which lay below like a shimmering white blanket. Now it was past dawn, and she still had not caught up with Vedana, the dragon, and the little girl, who was an unwilling passenger.

  In her eagle incarnation, Jord could hear Torg and Laylah, who were upon her back, conversing. Both their bodies emanated stunning amounts of heat. And Jord recognized more than ever how attuned the wizard and sorceress were to each other. When she left the Realm of Life and rejoined the Vijjaadharaa, she would leave such emotions behind . . . forever. These were her final moments among the living. It made her sad—yet at the same time, relieved. She was tired. Life was hard.

  So deep was her muse, Jord failed to notice the great dragon’s approach. Sovaōōa appeared out of nowhere, catching Jord unawares and forcing her to swerve drastically to avoid a crushing blow. This cast Laylah and Torg from her back, and they fell several hundred cubits before striking the hard-packed snow.

  But Jord was no longer in a position to help them. Their fates were their own. The Faerie’s final act would be to slay the dragon. She believed she would never see Torg or Laylah again.

  Sakuna swept around to face her attacker. Hovering in midair, she breathed in massive gouts of oxygen, inflating her already large body to absurd proportions. In a matter of moments she rivaled the great dragon in size and strength. She had been no match for Bhayatupa, but Sovaōōa was not Bhayatupa. Not even close. This battle would be more evenly matched.

  Sovaōōa also hovered. Despite their massive weight, dragons had the magical ability to flitter like hummingbirds. The golden creature stared at Sakuna, as if taking her measure. Then Sovaōōa spoke—and her words filled the Faerie with amazement.

  “I know who you are . . . and I have no desire to fight you.”

  Though her beak barely moved, Sakuna responded in a voice as loud as the dragon’s. “Nonetheless . . .”

  The dragon seemed perplexed. “What have either of us to gain?”

  “I know things you do not,” Sakuna said.

  “Are you so certain?”

  “I am certain that if the boy is to die, you must die first.”

  “Who told you that, I wonder?”

  “A dear friend.”

  “I have no wish to fight,” Sovaōōa said again. “This . . . situation . . . is a mess. Please permit me the dishonor of retreat. I promise I will go somewhere deep and dark and never bother you again.”

  “If you flee, I will follow.”

  “Why?”

  “It has been foretold that your death will benefit others.”

  “You are not a demon . . . or a dragon. I do not believe you capable of killing a foe that does not fight back.”

  “You will fight back . . . enough.
It has been foretold.”

  Sovaōōa snorted. Crimson flames burst from her nostrils, and then gouts of black smoke. The golden dragon veered to her right and swept toward the west, descending so near to the ground that the tips of her wings stroked the ice on each downstroke. Fast she flew, straight as an arrow toward the foothills of Mahaggata some twenty leagues distant. Sakuna followed, also flying low, but the Faerie—while no match for Bhayatupa in power or speed—proved more than equal to this lesser female. She swept up and over Sovaōōa, cutting off her route to freedom.

  Though the dragon was thousands of times larger than a falcon, she had similar midair agility. Sovaōōa turned northward and then arched her back and shot upward, rising skyward like a boulder spewed from the maw of an erupting volcano. Sakuna matched her movements and stayed on her tail, her physically incarnated body imbued with supernatural power. The Faerie felt not just her own magic but the magic of the Vijjaadharaa surging through her incarnated sinews, and the power she now wielded was far greater than when she had faced Bhayatupa in the dark skies above Duccarita, the City of Thieves.

  Then she had been destined to lose.

  Now she was destined to win.

  But not without consequences.

  The dragon led her upward through the atmosphere, rising almost three leagues above the surface of Nirodha, where it was so cold the viscous liquid coating Sakuna’s eyeballs froze. The air became so thin the dragon finally was forced to level out, soaring at a speed that rivaled the fastest creature to ever fly. Long and far she fled, circling the skies of Nirodha like a golden vulture. Yet Sakuna thrived in the upper heights. The Vijjaadharaa dwelt in the empty spaces between the stars, and their proximity filled the Faerie with even more might. In her incarnation as a giant eagle, she came upon the dragon from behind and bit down on the end of her tail, crunching through scale, flesh, and bone. Sovaōōa squealed, spun around in midair, and spat dragon fire at Sakuna’s wings. In response, green energy arose from the eagle’s feathers, shielding her from harm.