THE next day came, and Feyūnhaḥ had awoken, and upon seeing Tūmbṃār, she also embraced him and cried.
Tūmbṃār said, “Stop it woman! I’m not dead nor dying anytime soon!”
Both Iḷēhaḥ and Nakthaḥm were still unconscious. Vrihkhaḥ carried Nakthaḥm while Tūmbṃār, against the others’ pleas, carried Iḷēhaḥ. They still felt he needed rest, but Tūmbṃār would not have it. Having been asleep for three days, he felt he had to pay his dues and help the others, especially Iḷēhaḥ, who risked her own life to save theirs.
Tūmbṃār, upon remembering, asked Feyūnhaḥ of her betrothal to the prince of Trdsyḷūr.
She sighed and whispered, “Perhaps another time. I too have things I don’t wish to speak about. But perhaps when I feel more comfortable, I’ll tell you all. Be sure to tell Nakthaḥm and Iḷēhaḥ to keep quiet of this matter as well.”
Tūmbṃār nodded.
They walked long into the heart of the desert as the Sun waxed over the length of the day. It was not long before they had to take their first break under the shade of another rock formation. They took breakfast eating: nuts, berries, figs, and some fruits and vegetables Sanyhaḥmān had gathered at the stalls in Trdsyḷūr. But they were careful in how much water they took, for they did not know how long it would take to cross the sea of sand before them. And Sanyhaḥmān was not at all pleased that they had to journey here; not just because it was devoid of life, but of the evil said lurking within.
“There is a rumor that the Gazhigam have set abode within the desert,” said Aiṛth as she ate under her mask. “But none can say where. If they are here, then it is such that the desert hides them. Ah! It would be pleasant indeed to meet more of the Daivhaḥhō. Other than the Gazhigam and their caravans, I have only seen the Vachūṇaṃār, Samiztraṃār, Laukṣhramās, though very few venture out, and now an Autirsāh! In fact, when I first saw the goddess, I mistook her for one of the Laukṣhramās. Many of their like are red-eyed and silver-haired, much like your friend.”
“Are the Laukṣhramās from the western continent?” asked Tūmbṃār. “I remember my teacher telling me of them as well as the Samiztraṃār, but I forgot what they were.”
“Indeed! the Laukṣhramās hail, or rather, are said to reside in the southern forest of the western continent. It is also said that of all the Daivhaḥhō that they alone watch over all the peoples of this earth as is their duty, and have details regarding events that are very long past.
“The Samiztraṃār hail from the northern continent, and as is their namesake, they are the Sun People. It is said that Samiztrahaḥ granted them indefinite life and bodies that shine like the Sun. I find their appearance quite amusing. All others that are not Servants of the Gods avert their eyes in their presence so as to not be blinded; good fortune it was that I could behold their gaze with this mask! And perhaps we shall see them one day as well!”
“Aiṛth, have you heard of any gathering of the Daivhaḥhō in the western continent?” asked Feyūnhaḥ.
She seemed rather serious about this question and looked intent to the priestess, but it was not as if she could read her face through the mask.
The priestess tapped against her mask in thought and then said, “Not that I am aware of. While I have much knowledge of Daivhaḥhō as was part of my education, little do I know as to their dealings. In fact, it surprises me that you would not be aware as such. Are they not in contact with one another? Oh! Then you too must know if the Gazhigam are here!”
Feyūnhaḥ shook her head and rubbed the sand against her fingers. “Long has it been since the Daivhaḥhō engaged with one another. All of you must surely know of the war that had taken place during the Era of Foundation?”
“Do you speak of the War of the Ṃārhaḥn?” asked the priestess.
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“Oh! That’s the one where all the Daivhaḥhō fought on either side against or for the Mānuzhhaḥ, right?” asked Tūmbṃār proud in remembering that.
Feyūnhaḥ nodded. “Aye, sad it was that such a conflict arose, but the reason for its occurrence escapes me; Athruyam only related the details to me once when I was still but a child. Regardless, after that war, the Daivhaḥhō scattered, and since then, rarely have they conversed with one another. And now it’s been more than an age since any grand council or meeting of sorts was held between us.”
“So can I attest to that matter,” said Sanyhaḥmān as he gorged his meal. “Even among my people, there’s naught that we know of any such things occurring in the past. Of the Daivhaḥhō, my people aren’t predisposed to long lifespans, and I don’t think yours are either Feyūnhaḥ.”
“And you’d be correct,” said Feyūnhaḥ, “though we do live now close to twice as long as the Mānuzhhaḥ; perhaps my brother knew something in relation to this. I suppose it would be the Grahuvizātan, the elemental giants, and perhaps the Laukṣhramās and Daivhaḥhō in the northern continent that would know of it. The giants are said to have lived since the Era of Formation and that a good many still survive now, but like the Gazhigam, I’m unsure as to whether we’ll ever see them. Regardless, it should not be too long if a meeting is made between us. News travels fast, and they will all likely be informed of the coming invasion at some point.”
“The elemental giants have lived that long?” asked Tūmbṃār. “Are their ancestors also Mānuzhhaḥ? I find it hard to think women, or men for that matter, could birth a rock-baby or something of that sort.”
Feyūnhaḥ, Sanyhaḥmān, and Aiṛth burst into laughter while Vrihkhaḥ snickered. The boy pouted and said, “Ey! That was a serious question. I don’t know what people were like back then!”
“And neither do most,” said Feyūnhaḥ, trying to stifle her laughter. “Yet our long-lived progenitors of the time were special; perhaps they could birth rock-babes as you put it.”
“Ah yes, Feyūnhaḥ,” called Sanyhaḥmān, whose expression had become rather serious. “Might you tell us of what a Pakṣhevahm is doing among the royal court?”
Feyūnhaḥ’s face turned pale on hearing that. “So, he has appeared then.”
She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “This complicates our situation quite a bit. I’ll not delve too greatly into the details, but his name is Vairāzh, and he’s a friend of mine and Tretadunya’s. Having been exiled from his home, he rose through the ranks to serve in the royal court of Trdsyḷūr. Being especially close to the prince, he’d do whatever it was that was asked of him, not that the prince would request of anything troublesome, but it showed Vairāzh’s fervor toward him. When the prince disappeared, he—like many others—became distraught, but unlike them, when his mind was fixed on a goal, naught could stop him from pursuing it. And so it wasn’t long before he vanished in pursuit of the prince. If he’s returned now, I would say he has had a hand in poisoning the King’s mind toward war. I should think his will would not be thwarted even should he find Tretadunya.”
“You don’t sound terribly fond of him,” said Sanyhaḥmān.
“Aye,” said Feyūnhaḥ, “I was always wary about him. His presence unnerved me. There was something about him that I could sense would bring ill upon us. Yet, Tretadunya, for his part, either ignored such feelings or never felt as such toward him. I can say without a doubt that Vairāzh’s one friend was the prince. Not even I could come between them.”
Tūmbṃār found this exchange odd and said, “If he’s a friend, shouldn’t you have found out what was troubling him?”
“I say he’s a friend, but I never felt as such around him,” she said with an air of melancholy. “Perhaps if I made some effort to engage with him, then we wouldn’t have had to suffer now. The same could perhaps be said about my way of dealing with Tretadunya, but what’s done is done.”
Her face suddenly became serious. “If ever we should cross paths with him, run. Run, as we did before. He will not show mercy to those who stand in his way, and I should think his power exceeds our own.”
“Having seen the wings he bore on our flight, I don’t think there’s much to worry there,” said Sanyhaḥmān.
“My words weren’t directed solely to you,” she said, turning to the boy. “Tūmbṃār, do you understand what I said?”
“Yes, but wouldn’t it be better to—”
“Do you understand, Tūmbṃār?” she said, clutching his shoulders and bringing her face close.
Her eyes widened as if to show force, and Tūmbṃār nodded under the pressure of her gaze. She let go of him and sighed. Vrihkhaḥ made some whimpers and did his best to comfort the princess.
Aiṛth did not know what to make of this. It seemed strange to her that the princess’s relations to such figures were as strained as they were. Her understanding of royalty did not extend very far from the bounds of the compositions and histories she read. Yet she understood enough that she should not speak on matters not concerning her. She remained silent and looked to the desert. The dunes were foreboding. A shiver came over her as if the air were relating ill news. Their troubles were only just beginning.