WHEN the third night came and sixty leagues crossed, they were now past the edge of the field and within the desert, and came to a stop near some rocks. It was not long after setting camp at that spot that Vrihkhaḥ collapsed from exhaustion and Tūmbṃār awoke.
He looked around himself and felt a searing pain from his neck. A visible scar had formed, but no more was his life in danger. The priestess had finished tending to his wound and was now praying next to the fire.
“What happened? This doesn’t look like Trdsyḷūr.”
Sanyhaḥmān in high spirits, said, “At last you’re awake! I grew worried that you had passed on for good.”
And with tears welling in his eyes, he jumped over to where Tūmbṃār was and embraced him, rubbing his hairy cheek against the boy.
“Alright, alright, I’m awake! I don’t plan on going anywhere away from you guys!” said Tūmbṃār as he freed himself from the embrace. “Where are the others? And why is the priestess here—Oh! the King tried to kill her!”
“Yes, he did,” said the priestess, ending the last of her prayers, “but not before striking you. My gratitude to your valiance! But I hope you do not rush into danger as such in the future. Hard it would be to bear to see a child felled. And long did it take to heal you. The wound was very deep, and I had to take great care in tending to it. It took more than a day till I finished, yet all the glad I am to see you awake and alert! As for your friends, they sleep beside the wolf.”
Tūmbṃār looked around the fire and could see faintly in the darkness Vrihkhaḥ. And near to the ends of his belly: Feyūnhaḥ, Iḷēhaḥ, and Nakthaḥm snuggled, much like cubs.
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“What happened while I was asleep?” asked Tūmbṃār.
The priestess and Sanyhaḥmān spent much time explaining all that had passed: the resolve of the King to kill the priestess, the flight from the capital, the approach and destruction of the Drasūvayeznd, and all concerning Iḷēhaḥ and her transformation. Upon finishing, Tūmbṃār became silent. He looked to the fire and then to the sky and fell backward into the sand.
“A giant floating structure from the Great War that a goddess felled, and that was Iḷēhaḥ. So she’s a goddess after all, and now we have to worry about that hot-headed King. No! That can’t be; it doesn’t make sense why she alone would be sent with her power stripped away. There’s something she isn’t telling us.”
“If you had seen her Tūmbṃār, little doubt I think you would have,” said the priestess. “Oh! I forgot to introduce myself.”
She stood up, bowed, and said, “I am called, Aiṛthyavā, for I strive to be infinite in all my purposings, but all my relations refer to me as Aiṛth. Call me as you wish.”
“Aiṛth it is then!” said the boy with a large smile before becoming pensive. “I guess at some point she’ll tell us what her relation is to the Gods.”
“Ah, Tūmbṃār! You have not yet cleaned your teeth.”
She reached into her robes and pulled out a bag containing small but thick twigs.
Tūmbṃār’s eyes glowed, and he shouted, “Neem sticks!”
He quickly reached inside, grabbed one, and started gnawing on the ends, rubbing his teeth along the frayed bristles.
“This feels so nice! The powder and oil in Siḍhrehḷūr and Viprūtaram are good too, but nothing beats using these twigs!”
And so they continued to talk at length on various things long into the night, and joy once again abounded in the boy with his troubles seemingly pushed aside. And yet, within all that joy and mirth, he seemed unsure. The dreams, the persons of interest, and all this business of Gods, Demons, and flying structures had made him wonder why it was they were enfolded in this mess. He suspected that his teacher knew something and—-though as much as he did not want to see him again—-he knew a time would come when they were to meet. And he resolved to have all these questions answered if and when an opportunity presented itself. His teacher was sure to be wary of not relating too much.