FIVE days had passed since their audience with the regents, and Tūmbṃār—though spending much of that time training in the forest and the caves and near the waterfalls—could not seem to find much in the way of improving. There was only so much he could do in regards to training with his friends, and while sparring with Bahṛigfar and Zvarañt proved plenty fruitful, there was still much to be learned in honing the powers; a task those two could not aid, especially in regards to the aether. He wondered often if he should learn how to control the higher powers, but doing so by himself would indeed prove fatal. He needed a master. And unfortunate for him, none could be found where he was and the closest to one that he knew of was his teacher, but he did not expect to meet him soon.
When it was mid-day he took a break and walked away from the waterfall on the western side of the area and spent some time strolling through by the vistas. There was erected an enormous Rūrgha, greater than any he had ever seen, separated by a large road that encircled the entire area. Given its purpose, he knew that was where his challenges were to be held. And given the importance of the event, he suspected it to be filled to the brim.
He gulped on imagining the pressure. Having to combat whatever was to come his way in front of such a large crowd, roaring throughout the entire venue, was both exciting and unnerving. Attention was what he sought, when it was of casual importance, yet this was far from that. He quickly left from that area and followed the crowd of antlered and horned peoples.
Passing by the garden terraces, he stopped at a Triahkṣhel and no sooner had he sat down, did Bahṛigfar, Nakthaḥm, Sanyhaḥmān and Zvarañt sit down across from him. He was being followed and he had not even noticed! He sighed thinking himself to have grown duller in his practice. But not enough to notice that Vrihkhaḥ was most likely sleeping, as he had been for the last few days. He felt he could hear the wolf’s snores from his seat.
“Are you still worried over the challenges, Tūmbṃār?” asked the prince. Zvarañt placed an order by the waiter and started conversing with the others.
Tūmbṃār kept silent for a time only nodding his head. He rested his cheek against his palm and gazed at the city. It looked beautiful from where he sat, being able to see the entirety of the place washed with the golden light, as rainbows appeared in the distance near the waterfalls. The plants and creepers and trees that dotted the area became just as bright as the light and it looked as a paradise: one from which he should never take leave. All the inhabitants looked so small, and if he did not know better he would have thought them to be farm animals stupidly grazing about a stone complex. And yet the sight seemed to have lost all its luster.
He began to tap his fingers against the table, much like Nakthaḥm would do with his nails, and said, “I don’t know if it’s worry, but I know for sure that I feel unsatisfied. There is much I don’t know and more power I wish to gain, but yet I can’t make sense or reason about it at all. Lūshhaḥ said he would be beside me and with all of you as well, and I don’t doubt that he’s here at this moment watching us, maybe even laughing and smiling, but I can’t sense or feel him anywhere. I feel just as lonely as I was before having seen him, and it seems to happen over and over again. Maybe it’s also because I can’t talk to the others that I feel like this too, but it hurts and even bores me all the more. I don’t feel like training, in fact I don’t feel like doing anything. I just want to sleep.”
And Bahṛigfar suddenly laughed and patted Tūmbṃār on the shoulders, “You sound like an old man already!”
Tūmbṃār frowned and said, “I don’t jest! I’m being serious.”
“And that is what makes it all the more humorous. I can tell you now though, that your thoughts seem to be misplaced. You seem to be thinking that knowledge and power is the end to your pursuit, but you will quickly grow tired if that is the goal you have set for yourself.”
“Continue wise one: what am I missing?” said Tūmbṃār now annoyed.
“Simply put, you need to look a little farther than what you have set your determination toward.” He pointed his finger up and continued, “Knowledge and power while useful can only bring you so far in what you wish, for like many things in this world they are temporary and will of course vanish upon death. Did you not tell me that you wished more to see the world and the sights?”
“Yes, and while that’s still the case, it’s hard to think about that when I’m to face off against more troubles in the future, not least whatever it is your father’s planned for me.”
“Why even trouble yourself over such things? Can you not simply ignore and focus at the task at hand, as my father has said.”
“It’s easier said than done,” said Tūmbṃār, sighing. “Even Iḷēhaḥ told me the same thing some time before, but its much harder to put into practice.”
“And this is why I am telling you to switch your mindset unto something much higher. You set your mind upon Lūshhaḥ before, why not do so again?”
“I needed help from him that one time to help Nakthaḥm. While I would want to see him again, I don’t think he should come very easily. It took some weeks of meditating just to have him appear at the moment you saved me from Zvarañt,” and the bear-king’s ears perked and he turned to them; “I’m unsure if the meditating had anything to do with it. It seemed like he would’ve appeared regardless.”
“Do not deny the effects of such practice!” said the bear-king who now held a large glass mug filled with Svyamhaḥ that he furiously chugged down, much to the demon’s distaste. “Without it you would not even have as good a hold of the powers as you do now. But regardless, what was it you were speaking of earlier, Tūmbṃār; I heard my name mentioned.”
“Tell me, Zvarañt,” said Tūmbṃār, “what was it like being with Sītṛa? Was your mind always fixed on him? I remember listening to the Sītṛāyastri and how it seemed all those around him cherished him greatly, but I want to hear from you what you think of it. What does it mean to have a great being set in one’s mind?”
Sanyhaḥmān then said, “Ho! quite the interesting question, I’d very much like to hear this as well.”
“As would I, O Great Chugger of the Svyamhaḥ!” said Nakthaḥm with a smile that bobbed between a grin and a frown.
The bear-king smiled. He stayed silent for a bit, pondering.
He looked at the Svyamhaḥ in his glass and then to the other tables around him, and coming to an answer, he said, “A very interesting question indeed you asked. Let us take the liquor inside this mug for instance. Before, it had been filled to the very top, almost as if to overflow, but the waiter did well to keep it from doing so. Let us suppose that this is us from before our birth. It is at that moment, before conception, that we seem closest to That, to whom we pray to give us release from our miseries. As is the case of any god, it grants what it is we truly desire when we have earnestly supplicated to them.
“From there do we then come into the world to wholly forget such an experience ever happened; at least to most that would be the case. Then without having realized, the joy and ecstasy we felt at that moment vanishes, and then taking this mug, it is as if it toppled to one side or the other and suddenly emptied or greatly relieved itself of much of the contents. Now we are at a point where if we want to experience it again, we must fill up the mug. The problem however presents itself. We know not how it is we can do so. We gather things we like, pursue things that interest us, even fulfill our duties to the utmost extent and still all the while, after the moment of bliss seems to have arrived, it all too quickly ceases.
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“Now to come to Sītṛa, we know how foul a man he was before being exiled. He having reached that great sage Hvālmēgkim, realized at last why it was he acted so wretchedly before: it was no more than him attempting to stave off his boredom and perhaps seek for something that was truly unattainable. A man consumed by all things material, can only see to that object as the thing that should relieve him of pain, and yet when he reaches to it and acquires that momentary pleasure, and feels just for that small moment a sense of bliss, he desires such a thing more, even if he should realize that it would incessantly keep vanishing again and again.
“In ignorance, he engages with that object more and more until at last it bores him, unable now to derive any pleasure from it, and then he moves onto the next one to satisfy him. He becomes like the mug that keeps emptying itself over and over, sloshing and toppling from side to side, because he does not understand how to maintain himself in his activities and where such results ultimately go. And like this will he always keep stumbling on his path to fulfillment.
“Sītṛa himself was very much like this. He himself was never born evil, yet he became as such, slowly over time as he was spoiled by those around him, never scolded for any of his wrong doings, and ever seeming to want anything that he could grasp. And it was not long before his boredom and ennui had led him to terrorize all those around him, save for his wife of whom he held dearer than all, all so he could once again acquire that momentary bliss. Were he to not have met that best of friends, Adraghaḥ, in the forest he went to upon his exile, then I do not think he would have been receptive to the teachings of that great sage. That bird-man, who was at the time more troublesome than one could imagine, became wrested under control by that exiled king, and it was not long after, that Sītṛa should once more feel compassion for another; yet this time of a different kind: one that had no expectations attached.
“Having obtained that, Hvālmēgkim was able to dispel from him the delusion he had created, and taught him of the precepts of religion and the way to cultivate devotion. And by this he became as the great man we know today. And when I had come to see him, I beheld the Light from his face, that deep down my self always yearned but that I never knew was to be sought. And I, like that self-emptying mug felt filled and complete whenever I was by him.
“Now I would be remiss to not say that it is hard to keep such a figure in one’s mind when they are not beside you, but you Tūmbṃār, have the benefit of having witnessed him, as like I and many others. Use that to strengthen your resolve, and not even the Light shall feel far from you. Even now as I imbibe this liquor that has nary an effect on me, I keep my mind ever fixed on that great individual. Do the same with Lūshhaḥ, and I can promise that whatever troubles you have, either in success or failure, they shall at last vanish, to never assail you again.
“I suppose using a mug was not the best of analogies, but I hope it has sufficed in answering your question.”
Tūmbṃār smiled and said, “Yes, that helped!”
The food was soon brought their way and as it was laid out on the table they could see a feast was set for them.
“Good! Then let us eat!”
And they gorged into their meals.
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Feyūnhaḥ had made up with Iḷēhaḥ not too long after their argument (though it was more one-sided to the princess), but she could not let her mind rest from the connections she had made. And while Aiṛth shrugged it off as mere musings, the princess knew that even the priestess had lingering doubts about all this. There was still much to learn, and she hoped that whatever information could be had in the matter would come her way when they would meet the sage again.
“Oh yes! I had well forgotten to ask you,” said Aiṛth as she clapped her hands; “When are we to meet the great sage again? Tūmbṃār had related to me before that we were to see him when a certain star was in the sky.”
They along with Dhīṇahi were on their way to a smithy that the bear-king had recommended to them, on the eastern side of the city, where they could fashion a Dvı̄sahlvah from the ore in Iḷēhaḥ’s possession. The maiden was eager to once more have such a device again, and she resolved to be careful this time to not let her powers go berserk.
“He mentioned when the star Ydhṛhaḥ is at its highest zenith,” said Feyūnhaḥ, “so it should at least be a few more weeks before we meet him.”
“Ah splendid!” said the priestess taking out her sundial. She moved the rings and marked the positions on it and said, “Given that today is the second day of the month Yudhrayam, we have thirteen more days for the zenith of the star Ydhṛhaḥ. Now that I am thinking more clearly, would it not be better if we remained here. It should indeed make it easier for the sage to find us.”
Iḷēhaḥ shook her head and said, “No, he meant for us to continue journeying. This place is but a brief stop and we should spend no longer than needed in any one location. After all, the Demons will not wait for us, and while many years we still have, there are still five more divine weapons to be collected here and one down in the Hells. The years will pass by quicker than you think, and so I say we cannot afford to waste even a day!”
“And yet here we are with six days gone, waiting for a trial that we still know nothing about,” said Feyūnhaḥ who looked at the beaming sun above and Iḷēhaḥ could not help but give a shamefaced smile. “I’m starting to doubt if Tūmbṃār can pass the trial as expected.”
“Shame on you princess!” said Iḷēhaḥ. “I for one believe it to be the case that Tūmbṃār shall pass whatever is put before him with ease. After all the Light is with him now, and he has us beside him. Ah! But if only I could help out the dear boy! Having to train as much as he does with little help from others aches my heart so.”
And she became just a little sullen after saying that, though she tried to mean it in jest. She had at one point considered following him around, for she was reluctant to leave his side after all the trouble he—but mostly she—had caused. Yet she quickly dismissed the notion, thinking (and knowing) that it would anger and annoy him, and prove too great a distraction for the ordeals to come tomorrow.
“Aye, it’s sad we cannot help him train all that much,” said Feyūnhaḥ, “but even more so, I don’t think either our presence or the Light’s should be of much help in this coming trial. It seems even the Light is particular about when he chooses to appear and help us, and I don’t expect the boy to get a helping hand from him anytime soon.”
“You speak of Lūshhaḥ as if he is some mischievous trickster,” said Iḷēhaḥ, sighing and shaking her head; “he will come when he decides fit. ’Tis not a debate after all, not even the Gods can tell when it is he shall appear and leave at a time. In fact I wonder if the Gods have even noticed his appearance.”
“Well I suppose we can tell them, if they don’t already know, whenever it is we acquire the next Dvhaḥṣhtro,” said Feyūnhaḥ.
“And I fear that is still a long ways away, friend,” said Iḷēhaḥ. “It would at the very least have to be on the other continent, and it will be long before we can cross the Encircling Sea to reach there. We will also need quite a bit of money I gather to commandeer a ship from Pysefyaḷūr. Ah! the more I think of this, the more troublesome this journey seems! How I wish I could just descend to the Hells this instant, in form! and wring the necks of all those wretched folk! And then we can at last have a mirthful party in the Heavens, free from any woes, with the best Svyamhaḥ the Higher Realms can offer.”
“Be not too impatient, Iḷēhaḥ, for I still wish to journey long with all of you yet!” said Aiṛth, having finished positioning the rings on the dial. “And of course, I very much want to see the Heavens, but for now, being with a goddess is well enough!” She looked down to Dhīṇahi who clutched the priestess’ robes and then about here. “You wish the same do you not, Dhīṇahi?”
The girl looked up with a large smile, nodding her head fervently with a few grunts, and slapping the maiden’s back with hard hits to which she gave the child a few yelps and more chides in return. In the time that had passed since their battle with the Demons, Dhīṇahi had not once left the side of Aiṛth either in sleep or wake. She had lain unconscious for three days but upon waking on the fourth, she brimmed with energy. As if nothing had happened to her, she quickly wanted to see all the sights, having had only a day before to look, and within that time till now, neither the doings nor the places of the Mrigūhvha ceased to amaze the young child, who remained or became more so enamored by all that she came across or saw.
“Well I suppose with companions like you around, any troubles that come our way will be dealt with quickly,” Iḷēhaḥ said, laughing. “After all, not even Feyūnhaḥ could stay angry at me for long.”
“Yes, especially because I’m not one to keep a grudge like some special person here who evaded us for well on a month.”
“That was different!” said Iḷēhaḥ pouting. “I am a changed person now, I will have you know.”
“And I don’t doubt that, but it doesn’t mean I have given up in figuring out your secrets.”
“Well you shall know when I want you to know; not now; not the next; not anytime soon; but should an opportune time present itself, maybe then I shall relate it all.”
“I’ll hold you to your word,” said the princess giggling.