“Didn’t think stonehorns had any temples dedicated to Aimin,” Arjun said.
“We don’t. What we do have are legends that caution the weary traveler never to rest inside a temple like this one,” Kumil glanced around the decrepit stone corridor that narrowed abruptly, and ended at a wall barely a hundred square feet in area.
It was a very unusual wall.
“Melwig’s Shrine is haunted and guarded by his creations still,” the half-stonehorn’s voice fell into a whisper that echoed eerily in the narrow confines. “These creations have claimed hundreds of lives through the Ages.”
Arjun gave a small shake of the head as Eve joined the two of them. “At least, we’ll have something in common then, both being His creation.”
Aisha, eyes bloodshot and exuding exhaustion, stayed behind, sitting cross-legged on the hard stone floor, slowly making her way through a second chicken roll. She always carried some light provisions on her person. Meanwhile, James was exploring deeper into the ancient edifice, though there wasn’t a whole lot to explore.
Arjun’s senses had already informed him that the other end of the corridor connected with a set of huge rooms containing wooden boxes which had rotted away till only the iron nails remained. Apart from some frighteningly large rodents, the entire complex felt devoid of any living creature. It was also disappointingly small. A tiny, adventurous, and stubbornly illogical part of his Crown insisted there was more here than met the eye.
“Mere superstition, or is there a grain of truth hidden behind the warning?”
Kumil gave a sagacious shake of his own head in return. “Most superstitions begin life as a kernel of truth. In this case, the truth that it points to is a very curious one.”
“How so?” Arjun asked.
Not only was he desirous to know the reason behind the warning, he also felt the topic might pierce the veil of darkness that had enfolded Eve’s Heart. Who can resist a good story – though it would require one heck of a story to get over the loss of your murderous father. He wondered how his own parents were faring. Hopefully, they’d reached Sangam by now. Since his mother absolutely despised large bodies of water, their most likely course would take them through the second-largest city in Anantika.
“After the Cataclysm, when the ancient stonehornish tribes were scattered willy-nilly, in an act that was either bold or suicidal depending on whom you ask, a council of chieftains approached the newly arisen city of Jivanpur. Risking life and limb through heatwaves and torrential downpours, not to mention the near-constant tremors, they petitioned – more like demanded, that their – our, Living Gods be restored to their former glory.” A grimace of shame crossed his face. “Stupid fools!!! Melwig could’ve swatted them aside like flies, if he so wished. Pride was ever our greatest weakness.”
“How did Aimin respond to this…demand?” A small smile played across Eve’s lips, Arjun noted happily. Even a forced smile hiding an ocean of sadness was a step in the right direction. “I’m assuming there was no swatting involved.”
“Apparently Melwig…” Kumil cleared his throat, “Aimin, was overcome with remorse, long before the demand was voiced aloud. But even he had limits to his power, especially so soon after causing the greatest upheaval in our planet’s history.”
Arjun gave a noncommittal nod while Eve absorbed the idea of Aimin’s so-called limit with the greatest of reluctance. Neither spoke, but sensing their unease and perhaps fearing he’d be asked to stop, the half-stonehorn continued his story with renewed fervor and speed.
“Supposedly, Aimin even agreed with the foolhardy chieftains’ accusation that he’d destroyed a whole culture. In recompense, he proposed a solution, in the form of a promise, since at the time that was all he could manage.”
Arjun perked up. “What promise?” This was more like the Aimin he knew and prayed to. Occasionally.
“He promised to make amends before the final bell tolls on the Age next to the current one – meaning, at the end of our Age. The Living God most inaccessible to us would be returned using his messengers, he proclaimed, while others – his dutiful son Foresaw – we would rediscover on our own.”
“Which you have, at least some of them – not surprising, considering the fact that the first Manifolder in history, one with the longest range in Foreseeing the future, Designer of Destiny, Chiranjeev himself, predicted those events,” Arjun said, eyes gleaming with excitement. “And the word ‘messengers’ must be referring to the Pentaguards. Funny you should use that term.” Arjun grinned. “The Tenets title them Messengers of the Creator.”
Kumil just gave a shrug. “It’s the word used in our texts also. Don’t ask me why.”
“Interestingly, again according to the Tenets,” he shook his head, “or rather the addendum to the Tenets as written down by Johannes the First Disciple, the Fatewardens can alter Time even more so than a Manifolder like Chiranjeev, on whom they’re based. Not much is known about the other two Pentaguards. Historica speculates they’re two of the Guardians of the hidden Artifacts that can unlock the secrets of the dormant Aspects of Reality.”
“Treasure trove of knowledge, as always,” Kumil said.
Even Eve leaned in, clearly intrigued, though trying very hard to give the opposite impression. “Which two Artifacts?” she asked. “I don’t remember reading any of this.”
“There are more than a few translations floating around. The original was written in Old Common,” Arjun said. “As for the Artifacts, it was so speculative that I believe the author, or authors, had very little concrete evidence.”
This prompted a grunt from Eve that seemed to imply she expected nothing more.
“What does your gut tell you?” asked Kumil.
Arjun’s answer was instant. “Crucible of Change and Globe of Gravity.” Then, a hint of hesitation entered his voice. “Don’t ask me why.”
“Instinct can often lead you astray,” Eve said, eyes haunted.
Arjun remembered the ghost’s warning to Eve. But he trusted his gut more than his Crown. “It never has till now.”
Eve gave a small shake of the head, conceding the point. “People vary, as do their instincts. Just look before you leap. Some jumps are one-way.”
After finishing her meal, the art connoisseur among their group made her way to the sculptures, eyes full of reverence and excitement. Aisha was never happier than when she was standing in front of a masterful piece of art, though her emotions and body language suggested she preferred the painting.
Turning to the half-stonehorn, Eve said, “If this place was indeed made by Aimin, then by now, it’s been plundered for sure.”
Kumil gave an emphatic shake of the head. “Even the greediest stonehorn won’t be foolish enough to set foot in this place. At least, not by choice.”
“Yes, but humans won’t have as many scruples,” Eve said, eyeing Arjun. “Of course, only a lunatic would’ve been able to find this place to begin with. So there’s that to consider.”
Arjun grinned in return. “And it’s a good thing I did.”
“If humans had already found this place, there would’ve been clearer signs….of destruction. When they smell treasure, religion becomes irrelevant,” said Kumil.
Remembering the old temple in Kailash, and all the decapitated statues, Arjun couldn’t help but agree with the half-stonehorn.
“I’m telling you, this place is old.” Kumil placed his right palm on the side wall. “Feel the stone.”
Arjun didn’t have as much experience dating artificially made or stone-cast rock, But he still followed Kumil’s example. The granite beneath his right Palm did indeed feel old, very old. But he couldn’t say for certain exactly how old. He had more knowledge and experience with wood in this regard, courtesy of his time spent under Justin’s tutelage.
“At least a thousand years,” he said. “Maybe twice that.”
“Even longer,” Kumil assured them. “I know stone. Wood, not so much.”
“From the Age of Creation?” Eve asked, glancing around at their unremarkable surroundings with reluctance in her eyes.
When Aisha glanced back and met Eve’s and Arjun’s eyes, he saw the same reluctance, even incredulity, mirrored in her eyes.
Structures built during that time, when the blood of the First Disciples hadn’t yet been diluted by exploding population, was the stuff of legends. Literally. The Lore of Legends describes a few of the lost structures from that era in great and breathtaking detail. Looking around, Arjun couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment and disbelief, even considering the millennia of assault by the harshest element known to man, stonehorn, or aditaru. Time.
Echoing his thoughts, James came up to the four of them, and said in a worn out voice, “Time ravages all but time itself.” He turned toward Kumil. “I have an inkling of what you’re suggesting. There are rumors hinting at the fact that not all stories from the Lore, especially the more obscure ones, are products of the Keepers’ imagination.” A wry smile followed. “Some, as you so wisely pointed out, have a kernel of truth in them.”
Arjun and Eve glanced between the Battle Cleric and Kumil, then shared a confused look.
“What are you two babbling about?” Eve said. “Spit it out, for Aimin’s sake.”
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When the Battle Cleric didn’t seem inclined to volunteer any information, Kumil elaborated, “Legend has it, Melwig built a grand structure deep beneath an enormous mountain, which may or may not be in Kailash. Guarded by a mad entity, the huge underground edifice holds a path, which would only open if the entity deems you worthy, and once opened, you’d be able to travel to the temple of one of the Living Gods.”
“Which god?”
“More to the point,” an exasperated Eve asked, “assuming we’re standing inside the structure in question, how do we proceed from here to the surface – hopefully miles away from those wild unomynds?” She hesitated for a blink. “Or normal unomynds for that matter.”
“We proceed through that door,” Arjun supplied, nodding toward the odd wall in front of them.
“What door?”
Upon discovering it, what had arrested Arjun’s immediate attention was a vertical crack at the exact center of the wall, bisecting it into two very dissimilar halves. Given their shadowy surrounding, it was hard to be certain, but they each held a single piece of artwork. To the left was the object of Aisha’s delight, a painting mired by time and dust, while the right side displayed a huge collection of sculptures embossed onto the surface of the wall, most of their features eroded by centuries of neglect.
The peculiar appearance of the wall wasn’t the only reason behind his conjecture that it wasn’t a wall at all. The humming was coming from somewhere behind it. Or so Aisha claimed. Even Arjun himself was starting to believe he could sense the vibration that seemed to resonate with some fundamental part of the Cosmos – with a fundamental part within himself, although that was probably just Aisha’s feeling sensed through their strange link. A feedback loop empowered by placebo effect, he groaned inwardly. For the feedback to gain such strength, Aisha had to be considerably more worried than she was letting on.
“What makes you certain it’s a door? Or that it leads anywhere?” Eve asked, voice dubious. Then, her face cleared, and she turned to give Aisha an assessing look. “Don’t bother answering.”
Arjun was debating with himself how much to tell and exactly how. Eve’s assertion, as a result, prompted a huge sigh of relief. He was also glad James didn’t caution against opening the door, which he undoubtedly would’ve done if he knew how apprehensive Arjun – or rather Aisha – was about the whole endeavor.
Kumil took down another torch from the wall-sconce and got busy investigating the huge painting. A mesmerized Aisha was still in the process of studying it, her eyes big as saucers and mere digits from the dusty surface. With the added illumination, more of the scene was revealed, drawing gasps of awe and wonder from three people.
It depicted a surreal landscape of exploding volcanoes spewing lava, with the ground heaving in mighty quakes as Sindria was split apart by fissures as wide as rivers. Far in the distance, immense geysers that seemed to touch the sky were exploding in a shower of vapor and ash, while steaming valleys full of glaciers evaporated at an ever-quickening pace.
In the foreground, the land was morphing into lush green plains while numerous animals – animals of all kinds, starting from deer and cows to predators like lions and tigers – were gathered inside separate enclosures made of semi-transparent Shields that protected the fauna as well as the flora in an extended region while the surrounding region transformed in a cataclysmic event. Thick clouds covered most of the sky, all but blotting out Kiran. Surya could be seen just above the horizon, bathing the land in an angry crimson light of destruction.
Two beings floated above the surface of the transforming planet, standing on a Shield similar to the ones protecting the wildlife. Blinding yet soothing glow of kernel radiating from the thirty Chakras – two sets of fifteen – cast the whole landscape in an almost divine light. Unsurprisingly, most of the glow was emanating from the two Third-Eyes, the seventh and most elusive of all the primary Chakras, often called the Hidden Chakra, though some scholars postulate there might be an eighth Chakra that should hold that title.
“Holy Creators!!!” Even the usually phlegmatic James looked awestruck, as his hands headed in the direction of his forehead – to the hidden Third-Eye – in an involuntary gesture of prayer.
“Moving, if an inaccurate, representation of the Cataclysm,” Kumil said, appearing less than impressed. “Can’t hold a candle to the Tears of Jukatis.”
Arjun’s brows scrunched up in confusion. “Inaccurate?”
“No sign of the ancient stonehorns anywhere,” Kumil elaborated.
Eve’s gaze was still locked onto the incredibly detailed, if timeworn, artwork illustrating the Creators as they remade the world during the Cataclysm. “An unintentional oversight?”
Or was it an example of the victor editing history to suit his needs, something a few of the past emperors were guilty of. But these two beings were no mere emperors. They had no need to edit the annals of history. History bowed before them. Willingly.
“Maybe this is describing events that occurred even before First Conflict.”
“Tides of Time have washed away those answers, leaving behind nothing but legends, speculations, and on certain rare occasions, reminders such as this painting,” James said. “I’ve already marked the location in my maps. It’ll likely take decades of research to separate fact from fiction, if it can be separated at all.”
“Speaking of separating,” Eve squinted at the wall, or rather at the vertical crack, “think we can give it a shot?”
“How about we,” Kumil began, only to be immediately shut down.
“No Manipulation,” James’ voice would brook no complaint. “Even with your level of control, we risk damaging this delicate piece of artwork. I wouldn’t be the one to finish what time has started.”
Grumbling under his breath, Kumil approached the wall, with Eve and Arjun either side of him. “A good old-fashioned heave-ho, then?”
“Eve and I will take this side,” Arjun said, indicating the painting.
James gave an agreeing nod. “Kumil and I will take the other,” he turned back to the glum-looking half-aditarun girl. “Watch our supplies, meager as they are.” The majority was still languishing in the clearing where they’d started setting up camp what felt like ages ago.
In the end, after a good quarter bell of sweating and several failed attempts, it took a great big heave-ho, which caused the two-feet thick stone doors to split apart in a grinding noise loud enough to wake the dead. In the process, it revealed a sight and augmented a sense that left all of them perplexed and rooted to the spot.
The doorway in front widened into a narrow balcony, beyond which lay something so unexpected that it rendered even the half-stonehorn speechless – though only for a blink.
“Didn’t expect a tropical jungle so far underground. Also, I think I too can sense a humming noise.”
“Yeah, I can as well,” Eve said, giving Aisha an apologetic look. “Thought you went nuts.”
They’d emerged through the side wall of a large cave, about three-quarters of the way up from the floor, which was lost in shadow and smoke, both of which were emanating from the river of lava about halfway across the cavern, good eight hundred feet away.
None of these features set this particular cave apart. Arjun was sure Kumil had witnessed far more impressive sites in the Kailash, home of the ancient stonehorns and rumored to be crisscrossed with natural caves even larger than this one. The Engine Cavern of Balgistin could swallow this cavern many times over.
However, the flora and fauna on display here sent shivers down everyone’s spine.
Four large irregular platforms, seemingly floating on nothing but air and essence, were located at increasing depths. The two directly beneath and either side of the door they’d emerged out of were no larger than a small park, barely four hundred feet wide, but packed with vibrant bluish-green plants of a family entirely unknown to Arjun.
At around thirty feet tall, each plant was a cross between a warped version of a Batalyn tree and a stunted variant of the legendary Great Vines. And just like their greater cousins, each of these plants had two rudimentary Chakras. Crown and Heart. Even as they watched, a shadow flitted between two such ‘mini-vines’, as Arjun had decided to call these odd plants. Then, with a loud ear-splitting screech that ended all too abruptly, the shadow vanished inside a knot of plants gently swaying in the hot turbid air currents spewed forth by the river underneath.
“Allmother protect us!!!” Eve said, eyes glued to the patch of forest. “Now I’ve seen it all. Plants that have gone from dinner to diner.”
“Seems millennia old.” Kumil said, after a few exploratory thumping of his feet. “How did they even survive this long?” Before either Arjun or Eve could reply, he added, “And don’t say Aimin works in mysterious ways.”
“I wasn’t going to because He doesn’t,” Arjun said. “Aimin was perhaps the most logical being to have ever lived. Never did anything without a good reason. Often inexplicable reason at the time, but always logical, though it might take a while for the underlying logic to become evident.”
“What’s the logic behind this,” Kumil gestured ahead, “madness?”
The unusually high amount of fire and metal essence inside the currents of air also revealed two wide staircases made of dark-blue essence – one on either side – that connected their long narrow balcony to the two platforms, though after hearing that animal’s last cry none of them were chomping at the bits to venture downward.
None but Arjun that is.
“Survival,” he muttered, knowing deep down it was the truth. The creatures in here must hold special significance for Aimin to go to these lengths.
Arjun pressed his hands against the balustrade of the stairway on the right, feeling the intricate structure of essence. Sadly, the overwhelming majority of the essence strands consisted of two types – one of which he could sense but couldn’t affect much, and the other he couldn’t affect at all, but thankfully recognized after watching, and feeling, how Aisha Enfolded Space.
“Air and Space,” he said, voice dejected. There goes all his plans to study the staircase in an effort to build a shield of air. “Far too complex for me to even feel my way around, let alone duplicate.”
Eve patted him on the back. “Could be worse. Could be made entirely of Space.”
After making sure the footing was sturdy enough to take their weights, the group made their way toward the platform to the right. Having his feet off the ground left Arjun disoriented as usual, but he soldiered on.
Closing the distance enabled him to get a clearer view of the ground – which was made up of earth, upon reaching which he quickly realized it was also teeming with life, from strange yard-long tapeworms to tiny spiders that had six legs. Six was also the number of limbs possessed by a plant-eating creature no larger than a dog. Rest of its appearance remained cloaked in shadows, most of which weren’t natural but formed by these elusive ‘dark-canines’ through some innovative Manipulation of light.
Occasionally, the roles of predator and prey would be reversed, as a canine howl could be heard before it became dinner for the larger variant of the mini-vines. The third form of flora on this bizarre platform consisted of tall bluish grass that reached as high as Arjun’s thigh, and Kumil’s chest. But it seemed harmless enough, holding nothing but a swarm of buzzing flies – ones with two fewer legs than a usual fly.
“Stay close. Stay alert,” James said, and the rest of them fell into formation.
Arjun was paired with Kumil, guarding the back. “Mighty big trouble we’re in for,” the half-stonehorn mumbled.
Seeing Arjun’s questioning glance, he gestured toward the island at the center of the river. Underneath another platform below the current one and connected to it by a narrow causeway of essence that glowed crimson, the solitary structure on the small island was shaped like an inverted bowl, and appeared to be no larger than a barn. “Our destination is a death-trap, though James seems oddly eager to spring it.”
Glancing at the Battle Cleric up ahead, whose keen eyes were assessing their surroundings for threats, Arjun gave a nod. “He knows something we don't.”
A humorless chuckle escaped the half-stonehorn’s lips. “As sure a bet as you can find.”
Arjun’s gut insisted that the bowl held the secret to the hum. James, having sensed it himself, was unerringly leading them toward it. “Do you trust him?”
Taken aback by this seemingly simple question, Kumil didn’t reply right away, instead started mulling it over while stroking his beard. “Yes,” came the eventual emphatic reply. “With my life.” He eyed Arjun expectantly.
“As do I,” he replied, “though I wouldn’t mind knowing what he knows.”
To know was the purest of motives for any action.
Arjun shivered as another piece of memory came to the fore. Or rather, a memory of a sense, a feeling. He knew, in his heart of Hearts, that the entity whose childhood memories he’d witnessed was still alive. Somewhere.
Instantly, something else clicked into place. There was destiny and design in equal measure behind that vision, though he knew not who the designer was. Couldn’t have been Aimin, could it?
Kumil, unaware of his thoughts, still sensed his mood. Something about this place was loosening everyone’s control over their kernel signatures. Arjun’s eyes involuntarily shifted toward the mini-vines which, like their larger cousins, were blindingly brilliant sources of kernel that drowned out everything in the vicinity.
Which, of course, meant that when the attack came, they didn’t anticipate it. Not even Arjun, as he was too far away from the front.