CHIRPING, singing, cawing, and shouting were some of the many sounds of the animals that Tūmbṃār’s ears picked up. There was also the swaying of the leaves, and the moist droplets that fell and hit the ground. The canopy had shielded them from the rain but little from the sound. But Tūmbṃār was now in a position where such things did not bother him—even with his senses heightened.

He could sense the presence of whomever it was that was following them atop the branches but perceiving no ill intent he ignored it. But within the darkness of his mind, he could not perceive anything more beyond. The mantra he kept to chanting silently, still had not produced any desired effect. And he knew to himself that it would not do so easily as his teacher himself had told him. But he did wish it would sooner rather than later. He truly did not want to have to wait some thousands of years in the case of the mage to obtain it.

Lotuses covered their path, as they came across several ponds which cut directly through it. Gently swaying across the water they released their aroma and Tūmbṃār and the others found it very pleasant but for the boy also very distracting, and he took one big breath and exhaled before continuing on with the meditation.

As for the others, while the ponds themselves were not deep they did not want to disturb the lotuses that flowed across. With the prime point of contention being Nakthaḥm. These lotuses were quite different, for while they held to the usual pink and white petals and green base, they had a glow about them, not as strong as the mushrooms but still there and there were whispers in the deeps of the woods, unintelligible but seeming to indicate to watch themselves about the place.

They managed to hop from one end to another careful not to disturb them. Vrihkhaḥ nudged Feyūnhaḥ and he whimpered as he turned his head behind him. She went to the demon and untied the cords and Vrihkhaḥ grabbed onto the board with his mouth. The others quickly tried to stop him but it was too late. He threw the demon up high to where he flew just under the boughs. And miraculously he did not cut any of the vines and ended up landing all the way at the far end. A sigh of relief passed through them. They hopped between the ponds, levitating Vrihkhaḥ to the other side, being careful not to disturb Tūmbṃār.

They continued on their way, and could see the forest slowly take on a golden hue. The light did not seem to be coming from above and yet rays passed by the holes in the canopy and they too were of golden likeness. The deer and the rodents that scampered through the wood seemed just as majestic, as if they were infected by the aura.

Gentle streams came in all directions and fishes of orange and yellow hues leaped in the air as they followed the trail of the water. The banyan trunks had thinned to a great degree and they could see far past them into the vines. Indeed when they looked above, the branches and the leaves had seemed to merge into a net of shadowed gold, where the lines and creases between their forms had completely vanished. Yet what came to be the most unexpected was a company of black bears, dressed in fine clothes and ornaments, and who looked to be of great size, walking not too far from them.

“What are those?” asked Aiṛth. “They look to be—bears? But I have never seen their likeness before; are they also of the Daivhaḥhō?”

“I had heard of them,” said Feyūnhaḥ with her eyes opened wide, “but I thought them to have left Ārhmanhaḥ after the end of War of the Five Brothers! We are greatly blessed to see them now, for they’re the Ṛkṣhaḥn: the bear-people, said to have the mightiest kingdoms within the Mountains of Ārhmanhaḥ.”

“Heavens!” said Aiṛth, then brought the girl forward with her to get a better look. “See there!” she said pointing. “Those are the bear-people I told you about. Oh! how I would love to speak with them and hear tales from the old ages!”

“Now that’s something!” said Sanyhaḥmān having caught on with the rest. “Not everyday one can see the greatest of people that fought both beside Sītṛa and Zūryaṃār. But you, Feyūnhaḥ, and especially Iḷēhaḥ, must find it odd for them to be here. Were they not taken to the Heavens by Ishvhaḥṃār?”

“Yes, ’tis very strange,” said Iḷēhaḥ, squinting her eyes with her hand over her head. “Why is it that they have come down? I myself have not conversed with them, but I have seen them from time to time in the vast fields and mountains of the third heaven. There is something odd about their coming here: we should go speak with them.”

Tūmbṃār could not help but overhear the conversation and unable to remain still any longer he jumped off Vrihkhaḥ and raced to the front of the group, scanning the area for these interesting characters. And sure enough he saw the bears walking with their horses and a large smile came over his face with his eyes opening wide. It seemed so long since he last felt joy but seeing these people lighted a spark within him that had seemed disappeared for so long.

The Ṛkṣhaḥn walked as a retinue of sorts for there was one bear in particular who looked different from the rest. He possessed a regal elegance, donning mail, fhorlia, and a spiral tipped crown inset with red gems all of gold luster.

The bear and his retinue then stopped and he turned his head toward the group. His head shifted from member to member as he surveyed them and when his head titled down to see what was behind Vrihkhaḥ, a flash of anger came over his face. A great roar resounded from his mouth and the group was locked in place. Vrihkhaḥ too was stunned with his hair standing on end. The bear took a white horse and rode to their position and the others had no time to prepare for combat.

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But Iḷēhaḥ suddenly broke from the force that held her, and she pushed Tūmbṃār back behind her. She stepped in front with her hand held forward, and the bear and his horse came to a halt in front. The horse whined as the bear tried to rein him and while the anger had left his face he glared at the maiden.

His glance shifted toward the others and without looking her in the eye, he said with a deep voice, “What business have you here in these woods, goddess and her company? I thought you to have been sent to collect the Dvhaḥṣhtro by the Dehaḥṃār. There should be naught of interest here but what strikes me more is that you should have a demon in your company! Why do you side with the enemy?”

“We do not side with anyone but the Gods, O Zvarañt, king of the Ṛkṣhaḥn!” said Iḷēhaḥ, bowing to him. “Know that not every spawn that hails from that evil race carries iniquity in them. I would vouch for his worth just as Sītṛa had done so for Athreshhyanā: that noble brother of that wicked king, Gazhruṇā.”

“Yea! And though his place in that war was of great import, still I did not like him. Nor should my affection change to any of his other kin!” The bear-king dropped down from his horse and passing by the others with heavy footsteps, he made toward Nakthaḥm whose mouth was still open and his eyes rolled back, but the sound of his voice now surprisingly inaudible.

“This doesn’t look good,” said Sanyhaḥmān in a low voice, visibly worried. “You don’t think he means to kill him, do you, Iḷēhaḥ? We should stop him before this gets ugly, he doesn’t seem all too happy.”

She was unsure of how to engage. The being was not one to be trifled with unexpectedly. Though he was said to ever err on the side of righteousness, if any stood in the way of his dispensation, he would surely kill them. Given he had every reason to be suspicious of Nakthaḥm, and especially so for his current state, Iḷēhaḥ knew that Nakthaḥm’s life could well be in danger. She looked to the others for support, and Sanyhaḥmān, Feyūnhaḥ bore their weapons and Vrihkhaḥ overcame his fright to reveal his array of sharp teeth.

Aiṛth stepped back with the girl in hand. The girl looked to the bear with innocent eyes and she out of all the others remained unafraid (having not succumbed to the roar of the bear either), but mostly out of ignorance for it seemed she did not comprehend the dangers that those that bore animal-like features posed.

The four combatants slowly arched toward him, keeping their steps paced with his. And when he stopped they stood behind him, keeping their weapons at their sides with normal posture so as to not alert him. Zvarañt looked down toward Nakthaḥm with a glare and moved his hand toward his face.

Nakthaḥm suddenly lashed out with his sharp teeth intending to bite through the bear-king but to the group’s shock, Zvarañt had grabbed onto the demon’s mouth with ease, evading that attack. His fingers were pressed onto Nakthaḥm’s cheeks which in turn were pressed onto the teeth. Zvarañt slowly brought him up, until he was level with his face. The bear-king snarled. Nakthaḥm tried to free himself, and the board and roots that held onto him shook in a frenzy, but their grip would not loosen.

“He has succumbed to his hunger I take it?” said Zvarañt. “Why is it you have not killed him? I think not that such a one would side with any of you, let alone the Gods.” He turned his face from them to the priestess and the girl she held. “He would very well wish to devour you, having already cannibalized one of his own, as I can see from his wretched state. And that being the case, I think it best to end his life here and now!”

“You cannot!” shouted Iḷēhaḥ. “We assure you great king, that he was not always as such. He has saved us countless times over, and it was only a short while ago when he had became gravely injured protecting us that he should have fallen to this state. There is no need for concern, for we shall find a way to cure this or at the very least temper it so that he may go back to as he once was when we had met him.”

“While I can see you do not lie, fair goddess,” said Zvarañt, “I cannot abide this! Nay, he shall very well have to perish by my hands, and I will not have you stop me.”

Aiṛth then ran to him and grabbed onto his feet and put her head to them. “I beseech you, do not do this! Will you having become as a god not listen to the words of this humble Servant. We are known to ever worship those that reside in the Heavens, seeking their blessings and grace, and I would ask the same from you. Spare Nakthaḥm, for though he is a demon, he is indeed one who serves the Gods and aids their cause. Not until that fateful moment would he have ever sought to injure us!”

“I hear your words, priestess, but that alone shall not convince me! He will die by my hands.”

His fingers began to press harder against Nakthaḥm’s cheeks and his teeth began to crack.

Aiṛth now desperate, started to bash her head against his feet and even wailed. The girl then ran to her and held to her shoulders trying to pull her back. There was no choice left for the others and they charged toward the bear-king.

His face became fierce and he raised his hand with the powers honing themselves to a single point. The combatants drew closer.

Dirt and grass was kicked into the air. The powers surged in the bear’s hands and in only a few moments he would unleash his terror.

Then a crunching noise was heard. And a loud smack reverberating through the hall of wood. And suddenly, the bear-king released his grip on Nakthaḥm and was sent flying into a banyan tree. His body cracked the surface.

The impact of the strike caused a tremor to pulsate through the tree such that, a spiral path made its way through the trunk and the boughs, and with a sudden burst, the pieces of bark and small branches were sent flying on all ends. The tree shook and its leaves greatly rustled, and scattered through the air in a wide radius about the bear. And a whisper echoed in the woods, seeming to lament their plight.

A look of confusion was struck on everyone’s face until their glance shifted to the perpetrator. Tūmbṃār’s hand was covered in a crust of earth and his face bore a fierce expression in likeness to Zvarañt’s.

“I shan’t let you kill Nakthaḥm!” he shouted. “I don’t care if you happened to fight beside the great kings, I won’t let you kill our friend!”