“Where to, Maestro Ranger?”

“Immemorial Instant,” Mainak answered using the Common name, his gaze panning across the dark and deceptively calm waters of Jagat-Dwar, the holiest of all places to an adherent of Omism. Of course, with most who believe in Om being of aditarun heritage, it was sparsely crowded. As with all precepts of Om, pilgrimage was not mandatory, though there were occasional pilgrims visible.

Sitting as he was eighty feet above ground on a small gondola made of bamboo which was hanging from the overhead wire using wooden clamps, Mainak could just about make out his destination, a tenth of the lake’s circumference away. The ghat also acted as the gateway to the small island about half a mile offshore, connected by a narrow stone causeway.

“For an Awakening ceremony?” came the good-natured question from the amiable middle-aged man. His sandals had seen its youth when Mainak was going through his own, but the green kurta and light-brown cotton trousers were in good condition.

With the tug of rope, a lever turned, and their airborne boat started its gravity-assisted journey towards the next Nodal Orchid, one of several along their route.

“I am heading inland.”

“Home?”

“Once.” The answer came out more forcefully than the innocuous question deserved.

Even after almost two centuries, the memories had lost none of their potency. Perhaps sensing his mood, the driver gave a slight nod and went back to quietly communicating with the ropeway operator in the next Nodal Orchid, visible less than fifty feet away. The hand gestures were a less complicated derivative of the sign language used by the Rangers.

Mainak settled into his seat, knowing the journey for the next bell would be a long one, especially since it would not only be a journey forward in Space but also backward in Time.

One and a half bell later, Mainak found himself standing on top of a slight rise, with the ground before him gently flowing downhill to the actual ghat.

The entrance, a massive heart-shaped door-frame made of mahogany, blood-bamboo and vine, loomed before him, a structure that was almost as ancient as the city of Ridmanya itself, which was founded back in the 3rd century AC. The shops bordering the Lakeview Road on both sides were mostly closed, today being kirday. Not a soul could be seen near the beach, of course. A unique mix of reverence and past trauma ensured that.

Far in the distance, on the island of Matri-Ashirvad or Mother’s Boon, a couple of aditarus embraced each other in a nervous gesture that was clearly visible even from this far away. Standing behind them in their distinctive cloak were two Rangers, observing not the parents but the calm surface of the lake. The anxious couple undoubtedly were the parents of the youth underwater in Immemorial Instant.

Then, from somewhere behind him, sublime and subtle notes of a flute, playing a melancholic melody – a very familiar melody – drifted downwind, carrying with it a memory. Thankfully, his own. In it, Maude and the man playing the flute held each other in agonizing anticipation and Mainak was the youth in Immemorial Instant – the most terrifying moment of his, or indeed any aditaru’s, life.

The sacred waters had found him worthy, and he had come out scared, half-dead and traumatized for life, but with his Heart Chakra Awakened.

“It was probably the happiest day of my life,” said the old man quietly standing beside him. “The probability being one.”

Mainak had noted his approach, but had not reacted in any way, still mulling over the memories that should have stayed buried. “Start of the darkest decade of mine.” More venom leaked out in his voice than he intended. “Lost both my parents. Again. Unlike the first, this time I knew what I had lost.”

“Whenever I looked at you,” the man said, voice and eyes laden with guilt, “I saw her.”

“So you fled, leaving a youth barely out of his childhood an orphan and without a guide after his Awakening.” Mainak had to forcibly lower his voice lest he draw undue attention from the few passers-by. His cloak was drawing enough attention as it was. “Ignorant as I was of the ways of the world, I thought it was my fault that you left. Even joined the Rangers in order to try to search for you, only to learn you had left them too.”

“Only officially.”

Mainak took a deep breath, gaining control of his wild emotions. “What brings you to the capital this time? There was no Centennial Gathering of the Sangha, was there?”

The old aditaru’s visage went through a series of rapid emotions, ending up with one that Mainak expected the least. Mirth.

“Your efforts at cultivating an ear for melody is still proving fruitless, I take it.”

In a misguided attempt at proving his worth – if worth is the right word – Mainak had managed to cajole the old man into letting him visit the Sangha. This was back when he was still in his twenties. As a veteran and well-respected member who not only enjoyed music but also was a recognized master flutist, his father used to spend more time with fellow members of the Sargam Sangha than with his own family.

Unfortunately, it soon became apparent that music would never quite hold the same appeal to Mainak as, say, history. Having said that, a sect of Om dedicated solely to music that went back millennia was too enticing an opportunity to pass up and as a result, Mainak, through his foster-father, had been granted the privilege of becoming an honorary member. And it was a privilege. Interacting with someone who wholeheartedly believed music, life, and Om were one and the same was a unique experience. As an added bonus, he got to spend more time with his father.

“Not everyone finds the technical aspects of music as enjoyable as you do. Some simply enjoy the story and emotions it conveys.” And do not cringe every time lyrics are used along with music by a vocalist.

“Lyrical song.” The old aditaru shook his head. “Folly of youth.” Then, an expression of concern crossed his face. “No. I returned here on a more serious, if less worthwhile, endeavor. In order to convince some of the Generals that mass-exporting Anu-crystals, Khudra and related products is only going to curtail our relative strength in the future.” He gave a wistful nod towards the forest behind them, towards one particular Great Vine. “We can talk while on our way to her.”

With long strides belying his age, his father glided across the lush green carpet of grass, and Mainak followed.

Back into the heart of Ridmanya. Back into his past.

Half a bell later, father and son sat cross-legged on the grassy field beneath the low bow of an old Great Vine, their eyes on a small sapling in the distance that might one day grow to be as massive as its progenitor, which had withered and petrified over the course of two centuries, forming the Crystal Tower for the young Vine to use as support while growing. Growth can start from the ground, as in this case, or from one of the Platforms, and can take place in any of the six directions. As for how the very first generation of Great Vines grew, nobody had a clue. They have been here since time immemorial, and refuse to divulge the secrets of their origin.

“We are forever linked with the Great Vines. In all three Chapters of Time.”

Mainak could not agree more. “Her Heart and Mind will be absorbed by the Vine, and she will live on through them, and by extension, through us, just as the very first aditarus came into being from Vines.”

“A full circle,” the old man said, “as the name of our species suggests.”

‘Adi’ means ancient, primeval, or original. Mainak liked to believe it was the latter, since ‘Taru’ meant Vine in Sanbri. Turning his thoughts to the Present Chapter, he asked. “Exactly how much Khudra is being bought by Arunian merchants?”

“Too much for my liking,” replied the old aditaru, his gaze still locked onto the tiny Vine the two of them had planted the day Maude had died, after spreading her ashes around it. Only a shadow of the inner conflict could be discerned in that gaze, and only by those who knew him well. The habit of guarding his thoughts was ingrained into his very being, something Mainak had always detested in the past even while understanding the need for such measures. After all, the world out there was a merciless place where the slightest weakness would be seized by one’s enemies. Or friends, for that matter. Even now, he hated and admired the mental fortitude of his father, though, as he knew from personal experience, that fortitude, and the aloofness that facilitated it, came at a cost – a cost usually paid by those dearest to him.

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Behind them, at the base of the Great Vine, a team of Initiates was busy collecting the viscous fluid given off by the half-mile wide trunk. The surrounding grass had long since withered, and an artificial stone enclosure that encompassed the whole perimeter had been built centuries ago. Around them, harvesting buildings kept cropping up like mushrooms every few decades. The clear colorless odorless fluid, also called Khudra, could, given enough time, give rise to a condensed crystalline substance. Anu-crystals. Both were used extensively by Ranger Artificers to improve their armor, create dimension bags, maintain and create Portal devices such as Translocators, as well as strengthen staves and other offensive weapons.

Humans used it for other, more direct and often deadlier, purposes. Deadlier to the user.

“So, you worry that since merchants only care about profit, in the process of trying to build up our defense, we are merely strengthening our enemies.” Mainak gave a wry smile. “Perhaps you worry too much.”

“I definitely worry too much, but only because you do not worry enough, throwing caution to the wind.”

Knowing his father meant the Rangers as a whole and not him personally, Mainak did not press. Thumbing his chin, he frowned, deep in thought, his absent gaze shifting to a row of bright blue bioluminescent lamps far in the distance. With dusk drawing near, more and more of the lamps were blinking into existence.

Located between two Great Vines, the forest of Nodal Orchids visible near the horizon showed a team of mundane workers hard at work. A new house was being built using wood from the Orchid, prized for their robustness. This near Jagat-Dwar, which was surrounded by the mightiest of the Great Vines, no other variety of tree could withstand the domineering kernel signature for long. Even normal aditarus often found that staying for extended periods of time around the lake increased their kernel density, marginally. Pools of Khudra, like the one behind them for instance, were the densest concentration of essence found anywhere in nature, barring Manifested Gems – even more so than the kernel of some primitive animals. But the Vines still outshone them with ease. That thought brought forth a theory.

Alchemy was the only field where Khudra could be used almost directly, without the need for any complicated – and proprietary – refining techniques. Or rather, the Alchemist would need to do his own refining anyway in order to concoct the kernel-boosting potion, or Boosting Brew, as the Om-cursed invention was called nowadays.

“Could even be that some poor fool in Arunia is doing unsanctioned research, futile as it will be.” After a pause, he added, “Or sanctioned. Not like that has not happened before.”

“Yes, I did warn young Fukril.” The old aditaru shook his head. “Never once listened.”

Mainak let out a chuckle. He did miss these conversations. “That was ages ago. Do not let humans hear you say that. Most would faint from shock upon learning their late and beloved king, who lived three hundred years ago, had wanted to boost his way into the rank of Master.”

It would take a couple more centuries and another nameless genius Alchemist to come up with the Boosting Brew, which left one with debilitating, but manageable, side effects. Of course, even then, Chakras cannot simply be Awakened as one pleases. They can only be opened for a short duration and at a steep price. And that too if the targeted Chakra has already crossed a certain threshold of passive kernel accumulation.

“Humans!! Short-sighted as they are short-lived.” The ancient Maestro gave a derisive snort. “But they have their uses. We require their help just as much as they need ours. But we must provide the necessary foresight in this collaboration. Such was ever the case. Time will not change their very nature.”

Nor ours, came the unbidden thought. “Speaking of human help, I hear they have finally decided to start the Enfolding department at the University. Perhaps the growing number of people of aditarun blood residing in Arunia prompted this decision. Our proposal goes back to the days of Fukril, as you mentioned earlier. This leads me to wonder what could have changed Agalmar’s mind.”

“Have not the foggiest. What I can tell you with a reasonable degree of certainty is that we….did not. And trying to understand the human mind is a fool’s errand. I suggest you spend your time trying to decipher something that is worth the effort.” The old man’s voice dropped, as a clear note of frustration replaced the one of disapproval. “For instance, the identity of the First Servant with the designation Fluid.”

Of the four so-called First Servants, Hawk was perhaps the only one who behaved as expected, though he was still a slippery customer. A TwinCleric of immense talent, his greatest asset, however, was not his Manipulating abilities, which were that of a Grandmaster, just like the Royal Chancellor and Principal Hamilton. Of those two, only the former could take full advantage of having all but the Third-Eye opened, as he was a TwinCleric – one of only three in all of Sindria, meaning both his human Lineal Chakras, the Plexus and Stomach, were Awakened. But Hawk was a different beast altogether from the shrewd, politically aware, Chancellor Deadrin. His prime weapon was also his keen mind, just like Deadrin, but it was leagues ahead in terms of sheer cunning and intellect, able to anticipate ten moves ahead. Hopefully, Mainak will not have to cross the Kailash, as he most certainly did not relish the prospect of locking horns with that madman again.

“Any new tidbits on Hawk?” he asked, indirectly indicating he might be required to visit Aiminia in the near future. But given his father’s clearance level, he should already be aware of that much.

“Unfortunately not, though there is some speculation that he can use cloaked Portals.” A slight pause followed. “Without the need for a Translocator. We conveniently gifted the Arunians a couple, if you recall,” he grumbled under his breath. “Against my advice. One of which they promptly misplaced.”

“Enfolding without a Translocator? How is such a thing possible for humans?”

“It is not.” The old man waved away Mainak’s concerns. “The other First Servants are of no consequence.”

Mainak very much doubted that, but forbore to mention anything. All of them, in their own way, were worth keeping tabs on.

Noir, for example, was quite well-known amongst the Intelligence community, especially by his designation – Marshall, which described his role perfectly as he was the Supreme-Commander of the Army and Navy both, making him the highest ranked military personnel in Aiminia behind BrightHeart himself. Oddly enough, he was also the least understood. Some of the feats of battle-prowess and tactical maneuvers attributed to him seem almost ludicrous in their absurdity.

However, the First Servant Mainak personally found most intriguing was Root – the best known, most loved and least feared of the four. The plain middle-aged woman with the designation Admin was arguably the linchpin that held the whole autocracy together, since BrightHeart rarely involved himself with the day-to-day affairs of state. The dossier on her quite literally filled numerous rooms in the Ranger Archives, while in case of Fluid, it was barely a few pages long and full of speculation, with scant few proven facts.

Since the old man seemed to be absolutely obsessed with Fluid, Mainak decided to press for more information on him. He was going to run across him, whoever he is, sooner or later during the course of his current mission.

“Do you have any suggestions on how to flush him out?”

Fluid had been the bane of the Rangers and Arunian counter-espionage agents for almost two decades. Neither of the agencies possessed a physical description of him, not even a partial one. Well, not a consistent one anyway. All the clues they had managed to piece together describe not one but almost half a dozen people, of both genders. “Could we be ignoring something simple?”

The old aditaru gave an enigmatic smile that, for a fraction of a moment, reminded Mainak of his current superior, Jeevanil. Then, he remembered those ancient dark-golden eyes and knew in his Heart that those eyes had witnessed far more of history than even his foster father. Mainak, of course, could not ask him about Jeevanil, even indirectly, though he very much wanted to. Jeevanil had forbidden it, and protocol trumped curiosity, especially when the stakes were so high. His father had retired, after all.

“Occam’s Razor is a very useful scientific principle,” the old man said. “But the explanation that is beyond the obvious and simple accounts for a surprisingly large portion of all scientific discoveries.” A frown crossed his wrinkled forehead, enhancing them. “In this instance, I feel the designation itself could provide a clue. It is just…” he said, clutching at the air in front of him in frustration. “Beyond my reach.”

Mainak’s smile held a touch of elation. “Perhaps the simplest explanation is the correct one, after all. Maybe the designation is fluid, meaning flexible, and can refer to multiple persons at the same time.”

“Perhaps. But how do you account for the fact that they are coordinating everything seamlessly across vast distances and in shorter time-frames than even we have the capabilities of operating under.”

“No communication device exists that can do that, and we did not detect any use of Portals when Fluid’s trace vanished near a location,” Mainak acknowledged, still feeling he was missing something obvious. Then, after glancing up at the moons, both broad sickles, he reluctantly got to his feet. “Do try to visit again, at least once in the next century.”

“Since I might not live to see another century, I shall definitely endeavor to do so.” He suddenly looked down, hesitant. “And I truly am sorry, you know. Took me long enough to admit that, even to myself.”

“I know.”

Diminishing density of kernel in the blood layer of his channel hinted that the grim prediction concerning the future was not simply an obvious and last-ditch attempt at reconciling with Mainak. The man possessed not a single obvious bone in his body. Again, a fact he both admired and detested in equal measure. But still, Mainak could not bring himself to hug the old man. The small stubborn part of his mind that was still that youth trying to make sense of the world after losing both his parents in the span of a year would not let him. So he remained silent, getting a somber, resigned nod in return.

“The Concord has been convened by the Deeshayer. All Aloyer but from the most remote Groves have already arrived. I do not fully know what your mission entails, but given the confluence of events, it should be of utmost importance.” A hint of parental pride passed across his ancient eyes.

Mainak gave a small nod of acquiescence, secretly pleased.

“The Allmother of all storms is brewing,” said his father, glancing up at the clear purple-black evening sky. “I can feel it in my Heart. Try not to die in that Om-forsaken continent.”