"I lost my brother," the spirit said.

"How did you lose your brother, little girl? Is he here?"

"I do not know. I think he is here; he must be. He is here because of me, but I cannot find him." The girl spirit started to weep again. Surya could hear her heart breaking with every sob. His hand reached out to pat her back lightly. An unexpected shroud of cold mist dampened his fingers.

Withdrawing his hand, the prince asked, "Can you tell me what you remember?"

In between sobs, the spirit began to tell her story to the best of her memory: how she and her brother had gone out that evening to play with other children; how her mother asked her to watch over the boy; how they wandered into the wood; how he started to climb a tree despite her warnings; and how she turned her back, and he lost his footing.

"I wanted him to come back. When he did not, I came looking for him. But I cannot find him." The girl spirit was wailing now, her cries full of anguish.

Surya thought of his little sister, the great affection and love he felt for her. He would be crushed if something befell her. Tears came streaming down his cheeks.

"Not to worry, little girl. We will find him together. What is your name?"

"Bhanu."

The prince rose up and offered his hand to her, not knowing if she could see his gesture, as her head was still hidden.

"Come. Let us look for him."

The girl fell silent. Suddenly, her neck and back began to straighten, and her crooked figure started to untwist. Soon, the spirit turned up its face, a pair of cold blue eyes peering at him. She gazed at the extended hand and moved her bright and cloudy arm towards it.

The prince felt a sudden jolt passing through him, and the next moment, he was falling weightlessly through an endless abyss. And then, darkness engulfed him once more.

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"Prince, Prince Surya, can you hear me? Prince Surya." Surya heard the voice in a distance, slowly edging closer. At the same time, he felt someone shaking him fiercely.

As he felt his consciousness return to his body, his senses and power coming back slowly. He blinked his eyes open.

"Gods have mercy, what happened to you? Are you all right?" It was the carriage driver. He was still shaking him violently, even though his eyes were now open.

"I am well." Surya arose, supporting himself on both elbows.

"Have some water."

He accepted the bowl of water that the driver shoved at him and took a sip from it. He looked around and saw the tantrics, huddled around a figure on the ground. He immediately rushed over to the group.

Tantric Vidyut was crouching by the young apprentice, who still had not woken up since he collapsed at the den. Vidyut was wrapping a long piece of cloth tightly around a thick pad of cotton gauze that covered the youth’s wound. The youth’s body would shiver on occasion, his skin cold, his breathing shallow.

“Tell me, please, how I can help?” The Prince implored, getting down on his knees.

“There is nothing you can do.” The Tantric informed him, brusquely.

The Prince did not insist. A deep guilt seized his heart.

“Has the blood drain stopped?” He asked again, tenderly.

“Slowed but not stopped. And he has lost much blood.” The tantric replied, his tone softened. “It would be a miracle if he opens his eyes again. He needs medicines to stop the blood drain and sustain his life force.”

The prince stroked the thin black hair of the youth. He felt his icy cold skin as his hand brushed past his cheek. The blood from the severed stump had spread thickly on the ground, seeping into the soil and now spreading onto the prince’s golden stole.

“I have the carriage. Let me take him to the next town.” The prince suggested with urgency. “Kurnool has some of the best healers in the region. They must carry the medicinal herbs he needs. We will leave at once.”

Tantric Vidyut was wary of the royal folks, but he could not lose more time. He unwillingly agreed.

The Prince quickly rose to his feet and padded over to the carriage. The tantric boy, Tilak, was still hidden inside it.

“How far is the next town, Fatik?” Surya asked the driver.

“If I drive fast, it should not be more than one sun mark, Your Highness. But the others have not returned yet.”

“They are on their way.” The Prince remarked as he spotted his companions in the distance walking towards them.

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Shortly after, the carriage departed for the closest town, Kurnool. All the wounded men were being driven in the carriage. Neither the knights nor the guru were gravely injured. As his handler, Vidyut accompanied the grievously hurt boy, Alok. He was doing poorly, his mouth gasping and his skin pale. The prince was there, too. He would not part from him. He had placed the youth’s head on his lap and held one of his hands as the carriage lurched on the gravelly path. Vidyut had placed the youth’s bare feet on his lap as he had learned that such maneuver could draw more blood to the heart, which is what the youth needed urgently. The blood drain from the severed stump had ceased, but there was nothing to replace the amount he had already lost.

The rest three wounded men were sitting on the seat across from them, two elderly on either side, by the window, and the young officer in the middle. He had sustained a gash from the skirmish earlier on the left cheek of his pretty face. But they say a scar is a knight’s ornament.

Vidyut could not shirk his own responsibility for the fate of his apprentice. The tantric guild charged him with shepherding these boys, and he failed. His eyes stung slightly, but he composed himself. The world out there was cruel and merciless. They must learn it sooner than later.

The Tantric guild was reduced to bare bones following the civil war that ravaged his nation, Samrashtra. After the royal family was massacred at the red river incident, the sovereign ruler of the five kingdoms, King Shaktidev, intervened, lending his support and army to the slain King's next of kin. Soon, King Darshman ended the civil war to ascend the throne.

The Rakhtaprastha forces departed, leaving behind scarcity and a war-torn nation. Only now, they had started to rebuild under the king. King's son, Prince Drishtiman, had developed a particular taste for the practice of Tantra. He believed that it would sharpen his sorcery skills. One cannot fix what is not there. But Vidyut would not dispel the young prince’s belief, as the prince brought considerable resources to the guild.

Vidyut had the aptitude for Tantrism that Prince Drishtiman lacked. And so, he quickly rose the ranks of the guild. As the newly selected handler of the young apprentices, he looked to train them in the hard real world. But what the youth encountered today was bleaker than he would care to admit.

Guru Briharshi briefly pushed himself up to remove his shawl and place it on the youth, whose eyes were still closed.

“He will be all right.” Prince Surya addressed this to no one in particular as if the words were meant for his own ears. “I promise you. He will live. My heart tells me.”

Vidyut turned towards him to mock his futile hopefulness but stopped when he saw Surya with his eyes closed and lips moving in a silent prayer to some god. He lost the desire to crush his faith.

Because of the carriage driver’s efficiency, the party reached Kurnool in less than one sun mark. They soon arrived at the town’s best infirmary. It had a group of healers running the place, with even apprentices and disciples to assist them. They not only specialized in medicinal healing, but they were also equipped to carry out amputations, resetting of bones, and even birthing.

Soon as the healers in the infirmary saw the royal party, they called in all the help they could find and started attending to them at once. The collapsed youth was immediately carried off to the sickroom. It was a miracle that he still had a breath. The rest were tended to in the outer room. After their wounds were cleaned and patched up with medicinal herbs, the party decided to find an inn nearby to feed themselves and rest.

Vidyut declined as he wanted to be there when Alok comes to. Prince Surya decided to accompany Vidyut as he waited.

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