Fear chased the entourage up the first set of stone stairs. The evening air had not yet dispersed the day’s lingering humidity and the four bearers struggled with the unevenness of the steps and the severity of the incline. So, though they were exerting maximum effort to deliver their passenger, progress was slow.
Embarrassingly slow for Pongsit, who leaned forward on the velvet seat with his knees underneath him and clawed at the sheets with his wrinkled hands. The steepness had forced the front of the platform too high up for the headmaster to sit comfortably without sliding off the back. He could feel himself slipping backwards and reached out to the wooden posts that held up the fabric roof. Just as his fingers latched around them, the litter straightened out and his face slammed forward hard enough for his nose to feel the solid base underneath the feathered cushions. He was then greeted with a jolt as it bounced off the ground.
“Animals!” He crawled out and wiped away the trickle of blood from his nose. “Get up!”
The four men were slumped over and gasping for air. They struggled to their feet as the headmaster approached them. Pongsit looked back the way they came. The landing was high above the village. The tiny torch flames that dotted the area went out, only to shine again.
“Another one is coming.” He said more to himself than to inform his exhausted attendants.
The tree tops shifted. The thin mist floating above the foliage in the twilight dissipated as if swept away by a giant fan. Pongsit touched his palms to his shaved head. As it washed over them, a thousand unpleasant feelings invaded his mind. Hot water being poured into his ears. A file being dragged across the ends of his teeth. A searing pain on the soles of his feet. The pricking of his first tattoo, but on every inch of skin. It fading slowly, but left a permanent chill in his mind. Blood streamed over his lips and off his chin. Pongsit wiped it away with his robe.
“Headmaster, what does this mean?” The quickest bearer to recover lifted himself up.
“Silence. It makes no difference to boys like you.”
He whirled around to see a dozen men descending to the landing from the next set of steps.
“Headmaster, we’ll take you to the top.”
“Where is Supachai?” Pongsit had left his star pupil at the stupa, but he was not among them.
“He felt that...that something was wrong and headed down. We couldn’t stop him!”
“I didn’t see him while we were heading up. How long... never mind. You two, give me your sashes and go find Supachai. Everyone else, get me up there!” Pongsit looped the thick linen cloths around the front posts of the palanquin. He twisted his wrists in as he braced himself. There were three more sets of steps and the screams continued to chase them.
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The stupa was on a large, man-made ledge carved out of the side of the mountain. At one time, it would’ve been gilded with gold-leaf and sparkled in the sunlight. Such maintenance became too costly and dangerous and the cracked stone now stood bare against the elements. Pongsit lay on the floor the structure’s treasure room. The thick curtain covered the tiny entrance. At the center of the room was a ceramic vase the size of a large man. The top of the vessel was alight with a green flame.
The headmaster took a deep breath, enjoying the dry air that had wicked away almost all of the sweat seeping through his robes. The rapid journey was hard on his old body, and his shoulders and forearms pulsed as they became accustomed again to rest. Yet his mind was not given the same respite.
The screams had stopped when they started on the final flight of steps. It was not a good sign for the town. The evening fog had fully formed by then, blocking all sight of the jungle below. He could not send help into the darkness. It made no difference. He would let a thousand villages perish to defend this place, which led to a more haunting thought.
For the first time, Supachai had defied his orders. It was expected of his other students to have such idiotic slip-ups. They were drawn from the over-read runts of the Grove families. Even now, his desk was being piled high with letters of recommendation describing their youngest born as terse, deep-thinking scholars. He would accept the ones whose families gave the most generous donations to the Arborist Sect and find them all to be dull-minded and unambitious. But Supachai was as gifted as the individuals that introduced him. Men that were not governed by the whims of human emotion. No, that insubordination must have been deliberate. On such a dire night too. It was as if-
“Headmaster!” A voice shouted from outside.
“Speak.” Pongsit worked himself up to a seated position. His own voice bounced off the curved stone walls. From the outside, it probably sounded as though he was filling up the entire interior.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“A messenger from the town arrived. He says that everything’s calmed down for the night.”
Strange. There were no other sounds. No cries of identification beforehand. And this man was too calm. Too sure of himself to be one of his students.
“Nonsense. An alarm would keep them all up for the rest of the night.”
“I don’t know, Headmaster. That’s what he said.”
“I see. Describe the messenger.” Pongsit stood and raised his palms to the vase. The flame began to dance before a tiny section jumped into his hands. It was much easier to have a source to draw from. It grew between his palms.
“I don’t understand.”
“What is he wearing? How long is his hair? Does he look tired?”
“I don’t recall. I’ll go check.”
Pongsit compressed the orb of fire and sent a blast of green flames through the curtain covered opening. The force sent him back a few steps. His ankles clicked and almost buckled under the force. He saw the figure on the other side through the burnt opening. It vanished upwards.
Veridian glint sparkled in his eyes. Reflections from metal spikes aimed at his head. He moved the orb up and shaped it into a fan. In an instant, the missiles melted and flash boiled into a noxious fume. The inhalation would be a slower death than impalement, but it wasn’t wise to overload his weathered lungs. He pushed the fan outward, burning up the remains of the curtain. It expanded just outside of the entrance. The high-pitched squeal of the sublimating metal marked the death of the next volley. Pongsit grimaced.
This position was untenable. Every action ate up more air from the stupa’s interior. He couldn’t move to the side as that would expose the vase. As untalented as they were, Pongsit hadn’t expected his pupils to fall so quickly. Now even a successful breakout would leave him outnumbered and surrounded.
Outnumbered. Surely there must be two! But those debilitating cries never started again. Was help close? Maybe he just needed to buy time. There was no reason to hesitate with their target right in front of them. His thoughts were interrupted by another wave of spikes. Now they were thicker, and not easily rendered to smoke. A drizzle of liquid metal impacted the headmaster’s body.
For the first time in decades, tears raced down the cruel teacher’s face. He slammed his hands onto the stone floor. The walls of the stupa lowered into ground; the entrance engulfed by the earth. The liquid agony dug further into his chest and arms. All he could do was wait for the heat to dissipate as it ate into his tissue and bones.
“Pongsit. Give it up.” The voice echoed as if the structure around him was made out of solid brass.
“Rahu,” his voice was a venomous whimper. He never dreamed that he would find himself facing such a force of nature. “Your own work betrays you.” The markings on the inside of stupa’s dome glowed.
“Even for you, I promise to make it quick. Give it up.” There was a tension in his enemy’s voice, as if an overwhelming force was slowing pressing down on him.
“If you were at full strength, I would’ve been dead by now. You can’t defeat all of them. Has Ketu returned to the earth yet?” His pupils were easily swayed by emotion. The smallest change could cause mistakes. There was little hope that it could affect his foe now.
“You wound with your words far better than I.” Rahu's tone was forlorn.
The dome shuddered and rang like a bell.
Pongsit scanned the ceiling. This was a relic of ancient times, but so was his enemy. Which one would fail?
Another great impact and a crack appeared just above him.
The metal in his chest made it difficult to breathe and gather his focus. He twisted one hand in the stone and raised the other. The building spun as it rose. The fire roared from the vase and into his body, before pouring through the opening, sweeping across the landing. The fibers of his muscles reached their limit one by one, and snapped like worn music strings.
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Pongsit couldn’t tell what was left to motivate his limbs to propel his body out of the building. Maybe it was the raw desire for life. The kind that turned all cornered prey into lions. But now all it could do was inch him through the sea of his disciples' remains, back towards the steps. Help would arrive. They would vanquish their own kindred and bring him back to the Grove. It would take a while, but the tree’s healing waters would wash over his body and spirit; make him whole again.
A weight landed on his back. The remains of his rib cage shattered. He couldn’t even sob.
“I pity you less than the rest, Pongsit.” He could see Rahu’s bare feet touch the ground in front of him. “At least they spent their days striving to be better, attacking every day with ferocity. It made this life bearable no matter how many years have passed. But how could a man as poisonous as you live so long?”
“Rahu. Go!”
Another figure crested the steps, just beyond the charred corpses. He limped towards him, his hand pressed against his neck. Black blood seeped out endlessly.
Rahu knelt down. The flames had burned away his clothing to reveal several circular wounds in his torso. Dark liquid rolled down his body.
“It’s a fitting end. You and the Urn of Green Flame.”
He raised an iron mallet and thrust it forth.
The metal weight moved, taking the broken old man with it. The life faded from Pongsit’s body as it was dragged back into the stupa, and shattered the vase.