CROSSING the vast plains from the village, the ground slowly elevated until they were atop hilly formations that undulated in various heights. The surface slowly became rough and often did the monsoons bring their downpour upon the group, seemingly timing their advance over the earth whenever the group was out in the open.
What would have been a lively occasion with animals in sight and trees dotting into clusters seemed dull and boring with Tūmbṃār still refusing to speak to them. And though they had by this point grown used to this, it still pained them to not see him in joy, especially for Iḷēhaḥ who over time became despondent, and at times even refusing to eat (not out of any piety). There seemed to be little hope in sight, but unbeknownst to them, Tūmbṃār was still reflecting over what should be done. He did indeed want to forgive them, but his stubbornness would not allow him to accept fault. Grievances over Vālukyāvaḷūr and Erezuri still held strong in his heart and he felt himself pulled in either direction; at a stand-still unable to act. And so he continued to remain silent, waiting for his resolve.
They continued to follow past the hilly area, as the land gradually descended and the height of the grass lessened. When it did not rain the sun beamed from above with its now pleasant touch, slightly overcast on most days. No mountains were in sight and the clouds stretched into the horizon in an unbroken line. The marshes were no more, and every so often they would pass by streams and ponds that were surprisingly pure and most importantly not desecrated by nests of mosquitoes. The land seemed devoid of any habitation as they had seen no villages or peoples on this side.
There were a few more villages they had passed upon leaving Freṛdataram, but any more presence of human habitation quickly ceased only ten leagues into their onward journey. Their path slowly curved toward the coast of the continent where they could see in the distance what could only be described as massive crags blocking any path to the ocean. A remnant of the war that extended all around the south-western coast. Yet even from the many miles they stood away from it, they could see that its form slowly withered. It would only be a matter of time when they would crumble away, fading into dust and dirt. Even then, as they looked upon it, parts of it would fall and shatter upon the surface, sending a loud sharp noise in all directions.
As they curved their path back inward, the trees began to resurge to prominence. The cedar, cypress, juniper, and even banyan went from an occasional observance to a frequent occurrence. Clustering into groves and further into small forests. The ground leveled and the grass became so small as to let the small pebbles on the ground peek through. The showers and the sun were blocked by the canopies and they would seek shelter behind the largest trees they came across; all of which seemed to reside in the center of their clusters. While the others slept, Tūmbṃār would stay awake and pray before these trees.
He had given little attention to them as he went on his travels but now he would not forget. His mind was set on finding answers and he asked the spirits of such magnificent arbors for guidance. The spirits would not speak to him, not even to whisper into his ear. Though it was expected by him, he still felt disheartened. Only once had he spoken to a spirit of the forest and that too because his teacher had called it before him. It seemed even they like the Daivhaḥhō were beginning to leave Ārhmanhaḥ and Tūmbṃār took their silence across their journey as confirmation of that.
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The forests stretched like concentric webs with disjointed lines of clearings abruptly cutting their path. This all ceased when they had at last come to the edge of the Banyan Forest, whose trees stood tall like a tower and wide like a wall. Each one spanned some tens of feet high and hundreds of feet wide and they seemed to only grow taller and wider the farther back they looked. Yet with their forms so thickly clustered with one another, the path that led to its interior was completely covered in darkness. And this brought great unease to them.
Vrihkhaḥ stepped back, cowering before the opening.
“This place bodes ill,” said Feyūnhaḥ. “I myself have never come this way before but I can tell evil lurks upon this path. I’m doubting whether we should even enter. It could be better if we circle around this side and seek another way through.”
“I say we press forward,” said Nakthaḥm. “You need not fear anything princess for truly what could be more frightening that this demon who now travels with you?”
“Aye, if you even acted like one. But I do think it unwise to enter as does Vrihkhaḥ.”
“I too feel unnerved by what I see,” said Aiṛth. “But I shall go through if Iḷēhaḥ does.”
“What of you, Sanyhaḥmān?” asked Feyūnhaḥ.
“I don’t care either way,” he said nonchalantly. “Whatever the case I think fate shall be on our side. With all the things that’s happened thus far, we’ve all come out alive.”
“I would not press our luck,” said Iḷēhaḥ. “We could very well perish as many heroes before us have, and the Gods would be powerless to stop it.”
“So what do you want to do?” asked Sanyhaḥmān. “Shall we go in or go around?”
She thought for a bit and looked into the darkness. The thought of entering did unnerve her but it was best if they did not waste more time. What remained would surely pass by if they did not remain attentive.
Then, in the center of her eyes, she saw some lights shine in the darkness. She walked closer to the edge and saw that they were small mushrooms, alighting with small white flares. Rows on either side moved deep inside and they seemed to beckon them to enter.
“I should think we have our answer,” she said as she pointed to the glowing mushrooms.
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The farther they progressed into the dark woods the more suffocated they felt. It seemed at points that the trees would thicken enough to crush them. Were it not for the mushrooms they would hardly know in which direction they were walking. As they persisted through, the path became covered in moss, fresh leaves, and branches. Then it became wet and at times sticky. This greatly vexed the wolf who would at times rub his paws against the bark of the tree to scrape it off, grumbling to himself. The others did not find the trek all that comfortable either.
Iḷēhaḥ, Feyūnhaḥ, and Aiṛth were unnerved by the atmosphere. Feyūnhaḥ in particular could hear strange sounds and she would flick her head from side to side. She did not often become agitated, but if the sounds proved ever uneasy or distracting it was hard to draw her attention away from them. What to say if it got too loud.
She did not mention it to the others, but during her spare time, she would often practice listening to the sounds around her to strengthen her control of hearing. Since their battle with the specters, she had sought to hone her hearing better; with the enemies to surely become stronger in their travels it would prove all the more vital that she not faint on the others. Shrieks and wails should be the least of her worries.
Aiṛth kept close to Iḷēhaḥ, muttering prayers under her breath while the maiden could sense menace as if they were being watched. Tūmbṃār as well could feel this, but he willingly ignored it for his mind was still agitated by the doubts over his actions. He had not come any closer to an answer and as he continued to think on it he grew more reticent, at times altogether standing apart from the group for their presence disturbed his thoughts. These seemingly innocuous actions had caught Iḷēhaḥ’s attention and without his noticing, she would often take glances to him, wondering to herself what was on his mind. She had seen his meditations during the night when he would pray to the trees they slept by. She questioned to herself what he sought.
The demon and monkey felt at ease the entire while. They had no sense of misgiving of having trodden this path and, though they like the others could sense something eerie within the darkness, they had no doubt in their minds that they would handle well any trouble that came their way.
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Traces of light now peered through the canopy dotting the surface. The air became fresh and the smell of the wood eased them. There was the fragrance of sandalwood mixed in the aromas; and all about them the silence had slowly broken, as crickets chirped, birds tweeted, and small animals scurried through the bushes. The forest now seemed alive and the darkness of the wood became more and more bright. The path danced up and down and the mushrooms as well followed in like. The wooden halls echoed with their serene melodies and the animals discerning the group to be harmless came in droves to frolick alongside them. They even broke through Tūmbṃār’s sullenness and pushed him on ahead. He smiled and looked cheerful for the first time in many weeks.
Having walked a few miles from that point they came at an impasse. Many branches of the banyan had blocked their path forward. They were knotted around each around tightly and dug deep into the ground. The mushrooms also did not divert from their path as a few could be seen through the small holes to be other side.
“I suppose the animals can not help in anyway,” said Nakthaḥm as he looked to them for confirmation. They shook their heads and scurried off having been frightened by the demon’s gaze. “And there rides away our meal. Ah, my fangs dull upon chewing these fruits and vegetables. This stomach indeed requires a slab of meat!”
“You have done well to last this long on such things, Nakthaḥm,” said Aiṛth. “Would it be too much to ask for you to last a little longer?”
“Worry not Aiṛth, this demon shall be fine as is,” he said reassuringly. “And I rather you not see me eat these animals in an unseemly way either.”
“Well what should we do about these branches?” asked Feyūnhaḥ. “Shall we cut them?”
“I wouldn’t advise that,” said Sanyhaḥmān. “The animals had said the path was purposefully blocked off by the inhabitants of the woods. It seems they live near a sacred grove. Maybe we should seek the guardian of the forest and ask it to grant us passage.”
“We don’t have time for that!” retorted Feyūnhaḥ. She looked to her sides before facing Sanyhaḥmān again. “Where else are we to search? This path was welcoming, but I don’t think the trees themselves would react well if we are to tread inside them. Aiṛth, would you be able to speak with the spirits here?”
“I would not mind, though I do not think you will get much from it,” she said rather sullenly. “As is the case with most of the other Servants not even the Spirits of the land will engage with us, no matter how much we pray. They too have grown silent to our calls. Yet with that, I do not think they will react negatively to us cutting down these branches either. Much of the forests of old have been cleared for towns and villages—I suppose the Spirits are perhaps making way for us as we encroach their territory.”
“But this forest does not seem like other forests,” said Iḷēhaḥ. “’Tis strange to say but it does not seem like the Spirits are the problem; rather it would be the woods themselves. I feel these trees have been watching our every move since we have entered as have the animals; and mind you, not in a good way. I would hope their idea is not to test us. Ah! let it be I guess; let us cut the branches! What Feyūnhaḥ says is true, we cannot backtrack now.”
And so Nakthaḥm volunteered to fell them. He elongated one of his nails and after inspecting that they were sharp enough, he swung it three times. When his arm had come to rest, the branches that were held aloft split from the base to the midpoint to a few feet above them and they fell down with a clatter. And then Feyūnhaḥ could hear the eerie sounds once more. The woods began to darken and the light that peered from above was blocked by the encroaching canopy. All was still and silent and they did not make a move. A whisper was heard and then nothing.
Tūmbṃār shuddered and he felt a prickly sensation follow its way up his arms. The others remained still. And he without warning, dashed on the path and the others tried to shout to him but their voices faltered. They made haste after him. Vrihkhaḥ picked up speed and ran alongside Tūmbṃār. They continued as such through the dark path, following the still glowing mushrooms.
Then the light seemed to come back and things seemed once more normal. But not far from them they could see that pieces of the bark had flown onto the road. And when they inspected that area they could see the trees had ruptures along their base as if explosives had blown them clean off. The ground was littered with wood shavings and this continued along the path. While it did bode ill, it also proved quite annoying, for many of the splinters and torn bark covered the mushrooms; and they wanted to be exactly sure that they did not suddenly veer off in another direction without their knowledge. The path gradually widened and the trees began to arch back as if were being pushed away.
A great light issued in the distance and they raced toward it. Coming upon the other side what they saw silenced them and they stood shocked.
A village stood before them, of many houses and buildings all reduced to rubble with cleanly carved holes covering the entirety of the clearing. The villagers had all withered away and their lifeless bodies littered the streets. The woods had become silent and all seemed in mourning. Many of them hung their heads low as they slowly trod forward.
Nakthaḥm held a solemn face and scoffed at the waste of life.
Tūmbṃār was distraught but did not avert his eyes even though seeing this pained him. He held himself resolute, knowing now that death would be about him as he pressed onward in his travels: unavoidable even to those who fear it.
The rancid odor of decaying corpses—riddled with the same cleanly carved holes—enveloped the air. They covered their faces as they continued toward the interior. And Vrihkhaḥ, unable to do so, made loud whimpering noises. He moved beside Feyūnhaḥ who petted him, wanting to calm him.
When they had reached the epicenter of the village they could see parts of its Fiyukthi had been torn asunder and thrown on either side of the hole. What surprised them more was whom they saw at the center of that hole.
A lone girl in dirtied clothes looking no older than six years.
And there beside the girl Tūmbṃār could see the specter. It looked his away before moving its gnarled hands to reach for the girl. Tūmbṃār without hesitation ran down and Iḷēhaḥ followed after him. The specter then vanished; and in that moment the girl awoke and snapped herself upright. She shifted her head to Tūmbṃār and brought her arms out from where a black mass slowly grew.
“Wait, what’re you doing?” said Tūmbṃār.
The gleam in her eyes died and she unleashed the black mass toward the two. He and Iḷēhaḥ quickly dodged toward opposite end and ran about the hole evading her attacks. The attacks bore similar form to Nakthaḥm’s use of the aether but more powerful for what ever was touched by it dissolved within it. The others brought out their weapons and ran toward the girl. The black mass issued greater from all sides of her and flew to each member. And they all were kept away, seeing no way to engage it. Tūmbṃār tried to call to Iḷēhaḥ but his voice was silenced. He could not even signal her and he was at a loss as to how to stop the onslaught.
Iḷēhaḥ moved closer to the girl, running with her right arm raised as she dispelled the attacks, much to everyone’s surprise. And she continued moving closer until she threw herself upon the girl and grabbed her. The darkness surrounding the girl waxed greater and she began to wail. Iḷēhaḥ grit her teeth and clasped the girl’s hands, throwing her onto the ground with her arms spread out. She then put pressure on her legs and the darkness leaking from the black mass waned until the black mass itself collapsed.
She then looked to Tūmbṃār and then to the others and shouted, “Come! I need you to help me bind her powers!”
“What do you mean?” asked Feyūnhaḥ as they ran down toward them. The others likewise were unaware of what she meant but Tūmbṃār had caught on and came racing down from the other end. He quickly put his hands on the girl’s arms and a shackle of light appeared. He arms flung toward the center and fell gently onto her lap. The girl writhed and screamed but was unable to free herself. And Iḷēhaḥ quickly bound her legs in like manner. And in that moment Nakthaḥm could feel the shackles that bound his arms and feet begin to weaken.
“Are you sure of this?” he asked Iḷēhaḥ. “Do you not think I shall take advantage of this?”
“I have placed my trust in you like the others,” she said, panting, “but know that even with my powers weakened I have not released the grasp over your heart. Should you place us or any innocent in harm I will not hesitate to crush it! Know that while you be our friend, we shall not let you err in our presence, even should that mean taking your life. Though I hope it should not come to that.”
He bowed. “My gratitude to you, Maiden of the Gods. But I must ask, what was it that you did there and what is this girl to be able to wield the aether? And to use it in such potency without any visible strain on her person; very unusual.”
“Let us first make our way from here. I do not want to speak of such matters near the dead.”
She picked the girl up and carried her out of the hole. The girl continued to writhe and wail at times but Iḷēhaḥ was much too tired to quiet her. As they walked to the northern end of the village they could see the bodies slowly dissolving and as soon as they had all stepped out of the clearing, the ground beneath the village collapsed and all that was there was sucked into a deep black abyss. And then the girl went unconscious.
“Was she holding the village there?” asked Feyūnhaḥ.
“Who knows, we should ask when she awakes,” said Iḷēhaḥ. “I do think these people must have been the ones the villagers of Freṛdataram mentioned. Perhaps they dabbled with something that they should not have.”
They continued onward on the path of lit mushrooms into the darkness of the woods. When they were someways away, a figure emerged from the gaping abyss, climbing with large gnarled hands from out of it. The sky grew dark and the menacing figure of gnarled form, sharp teeth, and gargantuan proportions moved into the woods with loud thuds and labored breathing. It was hungry and sought the ones who had taken the girl.