Sarpanch’s goons blocked their way empty-handed. They carried no weapons, yet they were spirited, full of eagerness and demeanor. Mannat really wanted to know what gave them the confidence to block his way, especially after what had happened last time.

They were in for a bad reckoning if they believed numbers would deter Mannat; he was in a bad mood.

Mannat saw two familiar faces in the crowd. The two men from last year were also in the mix, though they stood in the back, not as confident as the rest.

Mannat examined them one by one.

The men were only so strong. Only two of them had a strength of over fifty points. The rest were comparable to Pandit. Don’t be disillusioned by the comparison and think the villain wasn’t hardworking enough. It shows how much of a freak Pandit was. That was the reason Kaju was fervent about having his friend join the army. Pandit would definitely have a place there, a much prosperous one at that. If only the boy could see beyond the life of a hunter, beyond the boundaries of his village and the bonds of his family.

Mannat’s mana was half-full in comparison. Which meant it would be a tight fight, a win or loss depended on the eagerness of his opponents.

Anyways, Mannat decided to go see the Sarpanch after taking care of his men and ask him the truth as a favor for sparing his goons. He was sure a light squeeze and the greedy snake would spit out everything he knew without giving him much trouble. He was not the same person he was once. The Sarpanch no longer scared him.

Making his mind, Mannat jumped out of the cart.

“Where are you going?” Pandit rasped out jumping right after him. He stopped Mannat by grabbing his shoulder.

Mannat looked back at his friend. “I’m going to hear what they have to say.” He said without holding back, allowing his voice to travel to the other side, a warning in disguise.

It was no wonder the men got rowdier and started cursing in muffled tongues. Mannat paid them as much heed as animals deserved and spread his palms flat in their direction.

Pandit stared at his friend. He had seen the boy angry, but never so disappointed, so eager to hurt other. He felt conflicted, unable to decide whether to stop Mannat or let him go. Eventually, the fire in those green eyes made him relinquish resistance. Sighing, he stepped forward and walked past Mannat.

“Come on, let’s see what they have to say.”

Kaju saw the situation worsening and felt conflicted. Was there something wrong with the kids? They were too eager. Somebody needed to have a long talk with them about when to fight and when to retreat because not all cliffs are equal and not all pits are dangerous. Groaning, he moved to talk to the boys when Mannat turned toward him.

“Thanks for the lift,” Mannat said. “You don’t have to worry about this situation. We can handle it. You can return.”

Is he caring for me? Kaju would have turned back if the words hadn’t ignited his fighting spirit. He wasn’t so old that he needed a weaning boy to take care of his interests. Kaju groaned. Guess his grievances were buried shallow. The words taunted him into action.

“Don’t speak nonsense and lead the way.” Kaju climbed down the cart and pulled his spear from the front seat. “Let me teach you two what it means to be old and wise.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Mannat said, forcing the old man’s hand.

“Of course I do.” Kaju interrupted. “I promised to send you back home. I haven’t fulfilled my promise yet.”

Kaju’s words were nonsense, but it was not as if anyone knew. Kaju didn’t see Mannat’s lips curl up otherwise he wouldn’t have remained so calm. Everyone else might be unaware of his real thought, but Mannat knew. The boy could read minds after all.

Pandit heard the old man’s words and started laughing. Together, the trio walked toward the men blocking their way. They were full of enthusiasm. Mannat alone could have put a dent into their ranks. Now with Pandit and Kaju behind him, he was sure to win. Only, things didn’t develop as he believed and hoped they would.

The goons saw them ready for a fight and started backing up. Suddenly, realizing the situation was developing in the worst direction, the two goons whom Mannat personally knew, who were also the leader of the group, stepped up to the front.

“I think there is a misunderstanding,” The taller of the two leaders said. He saw no reaction from the trio and hurriedly shouted. “We are not looking you for a fight. The Sarpanch wants to talk to you.” He pointed at Mannat.

Finally, there was a reaction.

The three stopped walking. Kaju and Pandit looked at eachother; Mannat started at the tall leader.

“Is it about my father?” The chilling emotions in Mannat’s voice forced the men to stand with their backs straight.

The group's two leaders went through varied emotions before the shorter one stammered out an affirmation. “Please, don’t hurt us. We had nothing to do with it.” The man said and his men repeated after him the same, nodding their heads to eachother.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Let’s see what he has to say.” Pandit suggested. Mannat nodded.

The goons lead the way. Mannat and the two followed behind them vigilantly. They walked through an empty street until they came to the village center where a curious crowd stood, murmuring to eachother.

The villagers besieged them upon sight. The people some angry, some scared, would have grabbed Mannat if it wasn’t for the Sarpanch’s men.

“It’s him, the Witch boy.”

“The blacksmith's son! I heard the soldiers wanted to catch him too?”

“Poor kid. He lost his mother first and now his father has been taken away.”

Mannat’s stomach kept turning the more people they met on the way to Sarpanch’s villa. Each conversation was one different from another, holding different sentiments, but all about the same topic, about Mannat and his father.

Kaju kept frowning at the gazes and the gossip. He couldn’t understand the situation. Wasn’t Mannat’s father a master blacksmith? Wasn’t he himself the Witch’s assistant? Then why were the people treating the boy like an outcast, like the common enemy? The crowd reminded him of the army. The soldiers used to react similarly upon hearing about the demise of some noble house that had absolutely nothing to do with them.

Kaju never thought he would see something again.

Where was the trust? Where was the unity?

This didn’t look like the most prosperous village in their region which made everyone envious. The village looked more like a cesspool of hatred and selfishness to his eyes, the people no different from bandits, selfish and cruel to even their own. He couldn’t help wondering how a Sarpanch could let his village fall to such a level where the adults didn’t think it below themselves to kick and spit at someone at their lowest.

His faith shook. His worldview crumbled. His heart felt constricted.

Kaju didn’t know how he would face the people of his village upon return when a hand fell on his shoulder. He glanced to see Mannat staring at him, his eyes undisturbed, calm as the lake waters even with a storm rampaging in the sky.

Mannat didn’t smile. His face was hard, expressionless, but not stiff. He appeared to not hear the maddening words of his villagers. He was like a general in control of his mind and emotions, unfazed by the difficulties close by, his eyes set on his destination. Those unfathomably deep green eyes sent a shiver down Kaju's back, turning him back into the young soldier of yester years. He remembered his first war, the day he had stood scared and stiff in the face of a relentless beast that carried blood in its mind and hunger in its body.

He would have died that day if not for his sergeant. That man, the rough, unshaved man had the same kind of eyes, unfazed by the death and cries around him.

The crowd followed the group to the Sarpanch’s doorsteps.

Kaju got answers to some of his questions when he saw the house. It was a villa, the only one of its kind in the whole village. It had tall walls and sentries at the large front Gate. Sai, the Sarpanch of his village, was a humble person in comparison.

“No wonder you don’t like your Sarpanch,” Kaju mumbled to Pandit.

The group of men dispersed behind them as the two leaders of the goons took the three of them around the house to the backyard. There they found the Sarpanch sitting alone at the garden table, his butler standing beside him. He didn’t have a partner, a wife. He didn’t believe in having a wife. He believed in taking what he wanted and so did his men.

Sarpanch was gorging on a chicken leg. The table was set. It was clear he had never had to sleep with an empty stomach. He saw them and laughed aloud.

“Welcome, my friends,” Sarpanch spread his arms open, a smile blooming on his grease-smeared face. “Don’t be nervous. I haven’t called you out here to make things difficult for you. I just wanted to share my happiness with you lot, That's all.”

Mannat wasn’t impressed and Pandit definitely was wondering whether he should take the fork and stab the fat man in the gut. Kaju had seen the situation far too many times to know where it was going. He didn’t speak and kept his eyes on the men around. Someone needed to stay vigilant. It wasn’t his place to say anything, but he wouldn’t keep his hand if the person did anything to the boys. He had made his mind.

“Where’s my father. What did you do to him? Why did the count's men take him?” Mannat fired one question after another.

The Sarpanch glared at his men as if chiding them for ruining his fun before turning back at Mannat. His frown disappeared and he started laughing. His men followed right after. They definitely knew how to pamper him.

“What did I do?” Sarpanch said pointing the chicken leg at himself, shaking his head. “Boy, I’m just a humble Sarpanch of this tiny village. What can I do to a great master blacksmith? I didn’t do anything.”

Sarpanch took a big bite of the chicken leg and threw the rest in the bowl of bones on the table beside the steaming pot of meat. He called his butler closer. The man came to him holding a slimy smile that faltered a little when the Sarpanch wiped his hands on his shirt. Wiped his face with his butler's pocket cloth and threw it back at the wiry man. No longer frustrated, he motioned for the men to take the food away.

“Come sit down.” Sarpanch gestured toward the other side of the table. “Why are you standing? It’s not like you have any respect for me or my work. Sit-sit, you have been standing against me for a long time. It’s time you sit down and take a look at what you are up against.”

His men set three chairs on the other side of the table.

Pandit watched them working and couldn’t help snorting. He had to say, these men acted like kings in front of the villagers, but they really were no different from dogs in front of their master.

Mannat didn’t move and neither did the other two. They stood a distance from the table and stared coldly at the Sarpanch, vigilant of him all the time.

Sarpanch saw their cold behavior and shrugged his shoulders. “Suit yourself. You asked me a question and now I will ask you one. It’s only right that you answer me. All right?” He didn’t wait for Mannat’s reaction before asking, “Was the monster that attacked the village your mother?”

Pandit glanced at Mannat. The boy was calm as the lake's surface with no ripples on his face.

No one other than their family and friends knew that Mannat and Pandit had taken Noor to the Witch to get her treated. Yes, there were talks in the village of her death. Some Pandit had heard and others he had come to know about from others. Never had anyone connected the monster with Mannat’s mother. Because it was ridiculous.

“I know she had miasma poisoning. It’s a popular belief that people suffering from the disease turn crazy.” Sarpanch said. “Is that what happened to your mother? Is she the one who killed your friend’s brother? Everyone knows you became the Witch’s assistant to cure her. Only there is no cure for the disease. Well, I don’t care about what you are doing with the Witch. I only want to know whether your mother is dead or alive.”

Pandit watched Mannat. He wanted to deny the Sarpanch’s accusations but kept quiet since Mannat wasn’t saying anything. Others might not know, but he knew the truth. He knew his brother was the monster. He had seen him change with his own eyes. Still, where was Mannat’s mother? They hadn’t seen her for a year. It was enough time for the miasma to spread to the mind and he knew the result of that. What if… she had changed and that was the reason Mannat hadn’t let her out or let Raesh meet her?

No!

Pandit shook his head. He couldn’t think about it. The Sarpanch knew very well how to play these mind games. He was the kind of person who had supported the majority poor population of the village to extort the rich minority. That’s how he had remained in power over the years.

“Just fight if you want to fight. What’s the point of taking so much?”

“Fight?” Sarpanch sneered. “You butchers have always been uncivil. I’m the Sarpanch. Why would I instigate a fight? My duty is to serve the people, not to go against them.”

“You—” Pandit would have gone up against the man in a frenzy of fists and legs if Mannat hadn’t stopped him.

Mannat found no humor in the man’s words. He had listened and he was listening despite it being extraneously difficult to control his urges to blow the man to smithereens.

The Sarpanch saw his resistance and let out a chuckle. “Yeah, keep your dog on a leash. The consequences will be yours to bear otherwise.” He was disappointed when Pandit didn’t lash out and held back his temper.

Clicking his tongue in disgust, the Sarpanch continued. “That being said, we can fight if you want. Now that you don’t have the count's hand on your head, there is nothing that worries me.” He leaned on the table and raised the glass of liquor. He took a drink and let out a deep sigh. “That hit the spot. I’m happy today.” He said to no one in particular. “I’m happier than I was yesterday, or I was on my birthday. So we are not going to fight. You might think me petty for getting at you for butting between the fool, Sardar, and me, but you challenged my authority and I had to get back at you. It’s politics. You won’t understand.”

“You could have gone to the town. There are so many things that could have been done there. You were an eyesore, but then you humiliated me in front of the whole village. That made me angry. Then I wanted to hurt you. Now I have a chance to hurt you but I’m not going to do it. You know why?” Sarpanch glared at the boys holding a mad grin. “I don’t need to do anything. You will hurt yourself. Truthfully, I don’t even care if your mother is alive, dead, a monster, or whatever. You want to know what happened to your father. I’ll tell you exactly what happened. There was an inquisitor among the soldiers and he was running the show. The soldiers listened to him. The man and your father knew eachother. I don’t know what they talked about, but by the end of their conversation your father voluntarily walked out of the smithy, let the soldiers tie him up, and sat down in the carriage.”

Kaju’s eyes opened wide in shock, fear, and dismay.

“You are lying.” The old man said confidently. “There is no way an Inquisitor appeared here. It’s not possible!”

Sarpanch ignored the old man’s cry. “Looks like your bodyguards are not a fool either, boy.” He said to Mannat; his grin widened, eyes maddened. “Is it true that they have the power to kill anyone below a marquee?” He asked Kaju before turning back to Mannat without caring for the old man’s response. “Anyways, he gave me this token,” Sarpanch searched his pockets before pulling a golden coin with a winged wolf engraved on one side and a castle on the other. He jealously held the coin in his hand and said, “And told me to bring you to the town before midnight.”

Not a second had passed before he pocketed the coin as if fearing the boys to steal it from his hands. He breathed in relief once the coin was out of his sight and the boy's reach, and then continued softly, “We have time till midnight. So why don’t you all take a seat and enjoy your last dinner together? We have meat, we have soup, we have duck, rabbits, deer… what else can you possibly want?”

Seeing that the three weren’t convinced, Sarpanch gave up. “Whatever. Just go.” He waved his hands impatiently. “Do whatever you have to do. One hour,” He said raising his middle finger to the three. “That’s all you have. We’ll be leaving for the town in one hour. You can meet your father and I can cash in on the token. It’s a win-win.”

“You call yourself the Sarpanch?” Kaju raised his voice. “You are a masquerader. A Sarpanch is to live and die for his people! You-You are disgusting.”

“Aren’t I helping them now?” Sarpanch leaned back and said plainly, ignoring Kaju’s words and anger.

“We don’t need your help!” Pandit shouted through gritted teeth. “We can get there on our own.”

“Are you sure about that?” Sarpanch stood up and his goons tepidly stepped up behind him. “You should know the town gates close after sunset. Only I can take you there.”

He wouldn’t have been so provocative if he could see the faces of his men, but a blind man, he was ignorant of everything around him.

Pandit’s eyes open wide. He had never been to the town so he didn’t know. Kaju’s sigh told him that Sarpanch wasn’t lying. Suddenly he thought of the token. The only reason Sarpanch was jumping up and down on their necks was because of the token. They wouldn’t have to listen to his bastard's rotten words if they had the token. He acted as soon as the thought appeared in his mind.

Pandit had only taken a step forward when someone grabbed his arm. He looked back to see Mannat staring at him.

“We are leaving,” Mannat said staring straight into Pandit’s eyes and pulled him along.

“The people might believe you today, but a day will come when the same people will tie you on a stake. Clean your act before it’s too late.” Kaju left behind and followed the boys out of the nauseating place. The men looked soft, and they could have beaten all of them to clear grievances, but it was a tiring day and he had enough on his mind anyway.

Mannat was at the door when Sarpanch suddenly spoke up, “You know, the inquisitor reminds me of someone. Especially his head of bright red hair. The names on the tip of my tongue. I just can’t remember whom. Do you know anyone else who has a head of red hair?”

A thought raced through Mannat’s mind like electricity. He paused at the door but left without looking back. Sarpanch's smile froze at the trio’s departure. He stood up.

His assistant sheepishly followed behind him. “Are we really going to take the thing to the town? Won’t that tarnish your reputation, sir?”

“Humph,” Sarpanch raised his head and looked in the town’s direction. “Sometimes you have to loosen the rope to catch a bigger fish. You don’t have to concern yourself with this well and its frogs anymore. Pack up.” A cold glint passed through Sarpanch’s eyes. He pulled the Inquisitor’s token out of his breast pocket, flicked it, and caught it with a hand. “It’s time for us to leave the pond and enter the river.”

The three came out of the house and looked at eachother. The conversation with Sarpanch had given them more headaches than it gave answers.

Pandit looked at Mannat’s head of red hair. His friend’s mother had the same head of bright red hair. Pandit wasn’t a fool. Mannat might be good at hiding his emotions, but Pandit knew Sarpanch’s parting words had left his friend shocked and scared. He had only seen Mannat’s face so pale in one or two instances in the past. One of which was the day Noor feel sick.

“I’m going with you. Just so you know.” Pandit said aloud before turning toward Kaju. “What’s an inquisitor?” He asked.

“Not a good thing.” Kaju let out softly. He took his time to get his thoughts straight. There wasn’t a lot he knew about them, but what he knew was enough to tell that they were in for bad times if it was really an inquisitor who had taken Mannat’s father away.

“An Inquisitor is a force of the Empire, directly under the Emperor. Where the Royal knights division is the shield that defends the Emperors, the Inquisitors are the swords that kill anyone who stands against them. They are strong individuals, very–very strong, and brutal. There are stories of them destroying noble houses, and tearing apart centuries-old lineages. Unofficially called Dark knights, but soldiers have another name for them. We called them the Demon hunters.”

Mannat raised his head. He was also a Demon hunter. Probably not the kind Kaju was talking about.

Kaju continued. “Of course, the Demons in our mouths were not the things you two are fighting. They…” He shook his head in dismay. He didn’t have words to describe how he felt about that thing he had fought in the morning. “Anyways, so that’s an Inquisitor. I hope your Sarpanch is wrong. Otherwise, there will be hell to pay.”

“How did your father offend such a man?” Pandit asked Mannat. Having said it his eyes traveled back to Mannat’s red hair.

It can’t be. There is no way the man’s related to Mannat. But why else would the Sarpanch ask about Noor if someone hadn’t asked him about her?

Slowly, they made their way to the butcher shop. Gande rushed out of the shop as soon as the cart stopped at the door. She was deep in worry and hugged Mannat as soon as he got down from the cart. She noticed their appearance and started questioning them in a frenzy if the Sarpanch had troubled them again.

She hugged the boy with all her strength, squishing Mannat in her arms as if afraid someone would take the boy away.

“What happened to you all? Where were you all day? Do you know why the count’s men arrested Raesh?” The questions fell one by one on his ears, the last of which crushed Mannat’s hopes a little.

The soldiers really arrested father,

Mannat barely maintained his calm. He was about to ask Gande if she knew what happened when Sharmilla appeared from the shop and hugged him. She had cried; her eyes were red.

Mannat could take anything, but his resistance melted like ice under the sun when he sensed Sharmilla’s grievances through her trembling heart. Everything finally overwhelmed him. His eyes grew wet and his mind grew blank. He blinked and his sight grew hazy, but he didn’t let the tears fall. He found some strength in the bonds that he shared with the people who stood with him. He found love in the arms that held him straight.

He stood strong against the waves of pain and panic that washed his mind. What had happened couldn’t be changed. The count had arrested his father, but the situation wasn’t that bad. That which was taken could be brought back. He still had time.

Sharmilla shared her warmth with Mannat and relieved him of the cold that had grown around his heart. Gave him the strength he needed to separate from her and take a stance.

“I’ll be fine.” Mannat told Sharmilla. Then he turned toward the others. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“We don’t know much either,” Gande said. “The Sarpanch brought the count soldiers to the smithy. Your father didn’t resist them. What we know was what the Sarpanch boasted about later. The soldier asked out about your home. They turned it upside down and then asked the neighbors about Noor. Of course, none has seen her for a year, and your father has been behaving like a mad drunk, so…”

“So what?”

“Your father claimed she’s dead.”

Sharmilla held Mannat’s hand. The strength behind her grasp spoke volumes of her thoughts. Physically, she didn’t utter a word.

Mannat didn’t know what to say. Why would his father say that? Did he truly believe that? However, everything that had happened made him believe it would be better if no one else knew that his mother was alive. At least he shouldn’t commit to anything.

He faced his friends and family and though feeling like he was betraying them, he kept his quiet with conviction and calm.

“Where’s father, Ma? Hasn’t he returned from the forest yet?” Pandit intervened understanding his friend's hesitation.

“They went after the carriage.” Said Gande.

“They?”

“He and Sardar: the old man volunteered, said he could maybe talk to the count, learn the truth. I guess you missed them on your way to the Sarpanch.”

The two boys looked at eachother.

“Maybe we can still catch up with them,” Kaju said and Mannat nodded.

“You want to go now? In the night?” Gande was not happy about this.

“Sarpanch told us the inquisitor tasked him to bring Mannat there by midnight,” Pandit said. “He has the token that will allow us entry into the town even if the gates are closed.”

“And you believe him?” Gande asked again staring between the two. Mannat nodded.

“Yes,”

“Well, then you are not going alone.” Gande was ready to come along when Kaju intervened.

“I’m sorry. We can’t take too many people along.” Kaju said defiantly. “We’ll have to travel light if we want to catch up with the front runners. We definitely won’t catch the counts carriages, but maybe we still can catch up with your husband and his friend.”

“How will we enter the gate?” Pandit asked.

“The Sarpanch will follow us. He wants to bring us to the count more than we want to go.” Mannat replied. “We just can’t let him get too comfortable, or he’ll plan one thing or another against us.”

Sharmilla clutched his hand tightly, tighter. She didn’t want him to go, but she didn’t ask him to stay either. She wanted to go instead. However, she knew Mannat wouldn’t agree. So instead of making things awkward, she shared her confidence with him.

Mannat shared her sight. ‘Let’s get married after I return.’ He didn’t say it, but the thought lodged firmly in his heart. He had decided long ago to ask her hand from her grandfather. The circumstance might have changed, but his heart was still firm and resolute.

They tied Bhadur to the cart and carried only water and some food for the horses and themselves.

There was no moon out in the sky. It was truly a cursed night.

“Ride safe,” Sharmilla yelled after them. ‘And return as soon as you can.’

The tree rode the carriage into the dark night, with two lantern lights shining their path, carrying hope, concern, and love in their chests.

The Sarpanch’s goons saw them riding out of the village and ran after them shouting. They followed the cart for a while before giving up and rushing back to inform their leader, but that had nothing to do with Mannat and his friends.

The Sarpanch was less than an afterthought in Mannat’s mind. He was more concerned about the Witch and his mother who lay asleep under the tree in the clearing. He had thought he could finally awaken her, but who knew things would turn out this way. He had the ability to awaken her, but he knew she would not sit back and let him venture out into the world to bring his father back. He could neither have brought her along nor let her sit in wait for their return. He wouldn’t do that to her. Not after knowing what his father had gone through in her wait.

He promised to bring his father back and free his mother from the curse he had inflicted on her.

It could only happen this way.

There was no other way to keep her safe from the pain of separation.