“You sure we aren’t lost? Those trees look suspiciously familiar,” James asked, pointing to a grove of evergreen pines about a hundred yards away, to the right of the narrow deer track they were following.

“As I said twice before already,” Kumil replied through gritted teeth, still panting after jogging for the last three bells, “I’ve traveled this path before.”

Arjun once again marveled at the constitution of stonehorns. Even a Healer with an opened Stomach Chakra like James would be six feet under by now. Kumil had been running for at least half a day, for six days straight.

The stone-paved road they’d been traveling on had ended abruptly, three days back. After that, they’d been forced to rely on James and Kumil’s knowledge of the hundreds of different mountain trails crisscrossing the north side of the Kailash, most of which were little better than quagmires due to the onslaught of the Monsoon. The western and central Kailash, both the sides, and the Aiminian side of the eastern Kailash were some of the wettest places on Sindria, getting on average over a hundred feet of rain a year in certain places, almost all of it coming during the couple of months of Monsoon.

“Maybe you should take the mare here, just to see how it feels.” James gestured toward the brown mare sedately plodding along behind his own horse. “That way, we could have a fruitful conversation without you wheezing your lungs out.” This was his third attempt at trying to convince the half-stonehorn to get on the horse.

Kumil gave the mare a distrustful glance, fully expecting the animal to be plotting some nefarious scheme to whisk him away as soon as he got on her. “I wouldn’t get on a horse even if Melwig the Slayer himself was after me. Horses have a mind of their own. A devilishly disturbed mind, I tell you.”

Arjun was thoroughly confused. He personally found horses to be intelligent and beautiful. Almost majestic. Even ponies like theirs, which were of shorter stature. “You don’t like horses because you’re afraid of them? Because of their intelligence?” This makes no sense.

To which Kumil’s instant reply was, “I like them as much as any other animal. I just don’t trust them.” He stared daggers at Arjun’s mare, getting a mournful look in return. “My own two feet are sturdy enough to get me where I need to.”

“What if you become tired?”

Kumil looked at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses.

“I rest.”

Arjun blinked. Eve barked a short laugh. A hint of a smile could even be discerned on Aisha’s face.

“Never could understand stonehorns.” James shook his head, and swiftly clambered down from his pony, bought from the small village a few miles outside the superbly camouflaged exit to the stonehornish city. They were ideal for traversing treacherous mountain tracks, James had assured them. Which they were. But even their steps seemed labored now.

“We rest for a bit. A short break, mind you,” the Battle Cleric declared, much to the relief of all members of the party. It had been a long grueling day. “Eat something. And drink some fluid.” Glancing southward at the partially overcast sky, he frowned. “Still about half a bell of daylight left.”

Once she finished unpacking, Aisha started preparing dinner, a task she’d volunteered for after struggling through one of the meals prepared by James, and another one by Eve. Kumil and Arjun himself were absolutely hopeless when it came to cooking. In what was a true measure of trust shown by the Battle Cleric, Aisha had been given full access to all their provisions. Arjun was starting to suspect James knew something he didn’t.

Hoping Aisha would eventually become comfortable around him to answer it herself, Arjun dismounted from his pony to stretch some sensation back into his cramped legs.

James couldn’t have picked a better location to set up camp, he decided as his gaze panned across the vision spread before him. Growing up in the vast plains of Aiminia, the soaring Kailash Mountains, home to all the fifty highest peaks in Sindria, had been the subject of many a story. For once, his fertile imagination had been outstripped by reality.

A small stream, cascading down from the majestic snow-capped peak they were climbing, vanished into the dense vibrant green foliage to his left. To the right, the mountain sloped down to the plains of Arunia.

In the clear white and red light of dusk, in the absence of fog, from his vantage point, thousands of feet above sea level, Arjun had an unobstructed and awe-inspiring view of the farms, rivers, fields, valleys, and forests of Arunia.

“Maybe this is the resting place of the Repository Aimin mentioned in the Historica,” he murmured to himself, lost in the dream landscape of Kailash, a reaction not uncommon to those who visit it for the first time.

“Repository of Heavens was somewhere in the continent of Gaia according to the Historica, but I doubt whether the stonehorns would’ve allowed the site of some of their most sacred temples to be desecrated by Aimin. At least not until even a single stonehorn breathed. The Repo is unlikely to be in the Kailash,” Eve said, coming up to stand beside him.

She had a strange smile on her face. An expression of serenity, being at peace with the world, here at the top of the world, away from the turbulence and concerns of life. Arjun fancied he himself had a similar smile on his own face right about now.

Looking at the dark-blue sky where the towering Kailash met the infinite firmament, they both wondered.

Kumil, having recovered his breath, joined the two of them at the edge of the road. A sheer drop of over ten thousand feet stood before them, with the Arunian Lower Kailash and distant green of the Central Plains visible far in the distance.

“Humans always look up at the sky and wonder, ascribing divine properties to nothingness,” the half-stonehorn lamented, “while we worship the material, the earth.” He thumped the loosely packed soil with his right foot. “We look down and wonder.”

Arjun gave a smile. “Yes. But we both wonder.”

After standing stock-still for a few blinks, Kumil looked up, eyes holding both realization and admiration. “True. Never thought of it that way.” His grin returned. “See, I knew I needed to get out more.”

Arjun turned his attention back toward the stars, most prominent of which was the constellation of the Hunter. Perhaps somewhere out there lived the being he’d sensed in the dream that wasn’t a dream. He feared its recurrence just as much as he hoped for it.

Noticing a fist-size yellowish rock in Eve’s hand, he asked, “What’s with the rock?”

“Found it by the side of the path. What do you make of it?” she said, tossing it to him.

Slightly perplexed by her fascination with a plain old rock, Arjun studied it both with his eyes and his earth senses.

“Seems to be a limestone of some sort. But….” Arjun tried and failed, repeatedly, to find some evidence to refute what his senses were indicating. “My earth senses seem to be jumbled up from Basil still.”

“Shouldn’t be any Basil here,” Kumil said, eyes on the rock.

“But this piece of rock is only three thousand years old, at most,” Arjun informed him, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Kailash was formed three thousand years ago.” Kumil’s expression suddenly sobered, usual mischief replaced by a thoughtful expression holding shadow of the past, a past rife with war, famine, genocide and near-extinction of the whole species. “It formed in just over a month,” he said after a while, voice hollow.

“But that’s just ludicrous. Mountains, let alone entire mountain ranges, don’t form in a month. It takes tens of millennia, at least,” Eve said.

“Kailash did. Millions died.”

“Cataclysm?” asked Arjun. The time-frames certainly matched.

Kumil gave a glum nod. “Those who survived the cataclysmic earthquakes, died from the ensuing climate change. Weather became too hot. More people died from heat-stroke than from the land coming apart around them. From Rivers changing course or mountains collapsing on top of them.”

“People? Humans, stonehorns, or aditarus?” a horrified Arjun whispered.

“Stonehorns. There were no humans or aditarus then. Except two.” Kumil almost choked on the last couple of words.

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“Aimin and Anantika.” James had stealthily come up to the trio. “This seems as good a place as any to make camp for the night,” he said looking at Kumil, his voice a touch softer than usual.

Two days later, as he was winding down yet another near-vertical slope of the Kailash, Arjun’s thoughts once again turned toward the question of morality and truth.

He was, by his own admissions, an Aiminist, though not a devout one like his friend Hammond. But he still believed in the Allfather. At the core of his being, in times of need, he turned inward to reach Allfather, the Creator, Aimin.

To think the most revered being on the face of the planet, in all of history, was a genocidal megalomaniac responsible for nearly destroying Sindria and wiping out the only intelligent species on the planet along with it!!!

He shook his head. It’s hard to reconcile with the fact that the Creator of your religion could be, and indeed was, the Destroyer of another. Melwig the Slayer, the stonehorns called him.

But of course, a small part of his Crown, or maybe the Heart, still refused to believe. It insisted that there was a distinct possibility the ancient stonehorns had embellished their own mythology. A perpetual war between two species with the Founder and Creator of one species responsible for the death of untold millions of another could result in that person being deified, albeit in a negative sense. But the Lore does say Aimin and Anantika defeated the early settlers of Gaia, the stonehorns, to create a kingdom where humans and aditarus could live peacefully. But the stonehorns had been the aggressors…hadn’t they?

Behind him, Eve and Kumil were arguing about the central beliefs of Jukatis. Eve was surprisingly insightful about the stonehornish gods and rituals. As Kumil chatted merrily away with Eve, fascinated to find an outsider having such vast knowledge and genuine interest in stonehornish gods, Arjun got the impression that the habitual playful glint was back in the half-stonehorn’s eyes.

“Why do you think King Agalmar granted permission for the Enfolding department in the University? Why now? A joint teaching venture between Enfolders and Clerics was proposed several times in the past,” Eve asked Kumil after a while.

This particular bit of information had been the result of days of cajoling the Battle Cleric, mostly by Arjun. In the end James had capitulated, letting it slip that, in the future, there might be people capable of teaching Enfolding at the University. In hindsight, Arjun was starting to believe even that supposed ‘slip of the tongue’ might’ve been intentional, though he couldn’t quite grasp what purpose it might serve.

“Maybe Agalmar was curious to see why the usually snobbish aditarus kept insisting on a mutually cooperative effort between humans and aditarus,” the half-stonehorn snorted. He didn’t seem to have a very high opinion of aditarus, a sentiment shared by most stonehorns, as far as Arjun understood. For some strange reason, stonehorns regarded aditarus with a high degree of disdain, almost bordering on hatred, even though during the war humans had accounted for a larger number of stonehornish casualties.

“So there will be aditarun Novices studying Enfolding at the University when we get there?” Arjun had always dreamed about witnessing Enfolding. A relatively sparse population of intensely private aditarus in Gaia meant while he had seen aditarus before, he’d never observed Enfolding, let alone Enfolding by a Master Enfolder, or Maestro as they’re called. Well, except once. He shivered, recalling his sole encounter. He never even knew the man’s name. The first man he’d ever killed.

“And Maestros as well, teaching the students,” James informed them from ahead in the path, perhaps sensing Arjun’s train of thought. “Although I dare say there won’t be that many Maestros, or Novices for that matter. People with aditarun blood are rare nowadays, especially ones with the ability to Enfold Space. Aditarus are nowhere near as fertile as humans.”

“Maybe there’s a more immediate concern, a militaristic one. Agalmar is not one for idle curiosities.”

Kumil’s reasoning made sense. From what little Arjun knew about the king and what he’d heard from James, Agalmar could rival stonehorns in terms of pragmatism.

“I don’t suppose you could enlighten us about the reason behind Agalmar’s sudden enthusiasm for Enfolding?” Eve asked lightly, fully aware that the taciturn James wasn’t going to answer her, at least not truthfully.

However, James hardly acknowledged Eve’s question. He’d gotten down from his pony and was frowning, with a vacant and distant look in his eyes.

After traveling with James through mortal peril, Arjun had developed an almost preternatural sense when it came to impending danger. He scampered down from his own pony and rushed to the Battle Cleric’s side.

“Trouble ahead?”

“There are five animals behind us, following our trail,” James replied, appearing unusually uncertain. “I can’t quite make out what type of animals though…a pack of wolves, perhaps.” He shook his head. “They don’t seem to be wolves. I’ve sensed wolves before, the day before yesterday.”

Both Eve and Kumil had gotten down from their ponies and joined the two of them. Aisha, still seated on her pony, looked back up the mountain side, then to the sheer drop of almost a thousand feet to her left, to the raging torrent at the bottom of the ravine. The small stream they’d been following had joined with another and in the past twenty miles or so had developed into a foaming river bursting with melted snow of summer and Monsoon rains.

“They’re close. Even I can sense them now. Those are no wolves,” Eve said, seeming more puzzled than worried.

Arjun nodded, he sensed the strange creatures as well. Although he had limited experience in the wilderness, these animals did leave an almost alien imprint when they walked across the earth.

“Bipedal.” Kumil said, confirming his suspicions. “But not human. Tread too heavy for a human or stonehorn, let alone an aditaru.”

“We better get moving. On our ponies, we should be able to outpace them, whoever or whatever they are.” James mounted quickly and the four of them followed suit.

As Surya dipped below the horizon, bathing the mountains and forests in a sea of blood, with the snow-capped peaks burning like heavenly bonfires, they rounded a bend in the mountainous road of packed earth. Judging from the lack of damage – damage one would expect to see from the frequent and devastating landslides during the Monsoon – the road was repaired fairly often. As a result, Arjun started becoming concerned when he realized they hadn’t encountered a single merchant’s or farmer’s cart the whole day, not even a solitary pedestrian on foot.

“This place gives me the creeps,” muttered Eve. Seems Arjun wasn’t the only one who’d sensed the heaviness in the air.

Then, around a bend up ahead, as a small hamlet of eight houses came into view, a familiar feeling of dread twisted Arjun’s stomach into knots.

The first thing they noticed was the lack of lights.

With dusk almost upon them, at least one house should have had fire burning in the hearth if not candles and diyas lit. And then, there was the utter silence. The village and the surrounding forest were quiet as a tomb. No dogs barked in the yards, no birds chirped before retiring to their nests. Even the insects were mute, which was such a rare occurrence during Monsoon evenings that a sense of impending doom settled in Arjun’s Heart.

Perhaps sensing the unease of the other members of the group, the Battle Cleric clucked his pony to a stop. “I’ll start checking the houses. Stay together, stay alert,” James whispered after tying the reins around the trunk of a nearby tree. The others followed his example. Given the skittishness of the ponies, Aisha volunteered to stay behind while the rest of them started exploring the deserted hamlet. She had a way with horses that Arjun found almost uncanny. He could sense their emotions, but failed to replicate the calming effect that she seemed to have. Another question filed away.

All the houses were empty, with signs that the occupants had left in a hurry. One even had meals laid out on the dining table, half-eaten. What could’ve prompted them to leave all their worldly possessions behind?

Fear, his subconscious supplied. Mortal fear. That’s the only answer which made sense, since there was no sign of violence, at least so far. But fear of what?

As James exited the eighth house of the desolate hamlet, he had a thunderous expression on his face. Arjun entered the house along with Kumil, curiosity overcoming his dread.

It was like most others in this small village. One room used for the dual purpose of dining and lounging, a kitchen, with pots still on the oven, the fires having gone out days ago. Two bedrooms. All lit by a candle James had located on the dinner table.

Long before crossing the threshold of the second, smaller, bedroom, overpowering smell of decomposing flesh almost made Arjun gag.

It was a small child, a girl of barely ten. Throat slit, and even more disturbingly, she was eviscerated, apparently postmortem, although given the extensive decomposition and the shadowy conditions, it was hard to be certain.

Arjun couldn’t escape the house fast enough.

Standing there on unsteady legs in the front yard, he closed his eyes and took a few deep calming breaths in order to clear the awful smell from his nostrils. He had more success at it than in trying to clear the image of the girl’s gray vacant lifeless eyes from his mind.

“Sigrid’s Balls!!!” Eve said, storming out of the house. Veins bulged on her face and neck. She looked ready to throttle the person responsible then and there. Sensing Arjun’s mood, Aisha had come over to investigate, only to promptly rush outside with a grim expression on her face.

James, who had more experience with death, was the first to regain his composure. “Dead about two days.”

“Why mutilate the body after death?” Kumil asked, face contorted with fury. “As if killing the poor kid wasn’t bad enough.”

“Too messy to be ritualistic?” Arjun asked.

“Cults can often have a warped sense of morality. In such cases, it requires non-linear thinking to comprehend their true motive,” James warned, causing Kumil to snort in agreement. They’d seen evidence of that less than a fortnight ago. Arjun still had no clue what the ‘Mark’ signified, or why the device that had created it was stolen.

“Sometimes they have four legs, other times two.” With her brows puckered, Eve shot a questioning glance at James.

“Huh?” Arjun asked.

Judging from their puzzled expressions, both Aisha and Kumil were just as mystified.

“Yeah, they’re sprinting on all fours.” The Battle Cleric declared following a pause. “And they’ll be here in less than quarter of a bell.”

Arjun realized, after focusing on the tread, that Eve was correct. “The Pack.” The grisly sight inside had been so disturbing that the distant footfalls had completely escaped his notice. He was beginning to admire Eve’s cautious nature, which verged on paranoia at times. Of course, he’d very much like to know what she was paranoid about. Couldn’t be this mysterious pack of animals, could it? He cast a hopeful glance in Aisha’s direction, but she still looked upset about the scene inside.

“Could they be responsible for this?” Kumil said, thumbing the house behind them.

“Perhaps.”

If this unknown pack weren’t, then they had another mystery on their hands. As if murderous Clerics and packs of bipedal creatures which used all four limbs while running weren’t bad enough.

"Brilliant," said Arjun, only half joking. "The next few days should be interesting."