THE bustling of the streets, the large buildings, and the array of leveled bridges put wonder into the boy’s eyes. They had taken a fairly round-about way to get to their destination, going between bridges on tall, short, and medium cedars. They were now in a dense locale toward the western edge of the valley, where all the bridges encircled each other to create a multi-tiered platform. Here, many houses, shops, and guilds resided. At the platform’s center stood a tall and spiraling structure that emitted light from its zenith and served as a lift. All about the open area were various peoples going to and fro from one building to another. Feyūnhaḥ carried Tūmbṃār on her shoulders as she pointed out all the various establishments that lay there, directing the boy and the maiden to each one.

“Wow! There’s so much here! So, this is what a city is like,” said Tūmbṃār.

“An Autirsāh city, mind you. Your own cities look much more different than this. Not as much foliage but many more buildings,” answered Feyūnhaḥ.

“I’ve only seen villages along my way here, not even towns. This is even better than I hoped!” exclaimed the boy.

Iḷēhaḥ then said, “There is quite a lot to see here. But dare I say, this traffic is even worse than at the market yesterday. I could not imagine there to be so many of you residing in such a sparsely wooded forest. This may not even be a forest; ’tis more like a large woodland.”

“Right you are! There are maybe three to ten families for every tree, depending on the size residing in it, which is why you see this maze of bridges going about the domain. There were also never as many trees here to begin with, but we still consider it a forest that connects with the one outside the mountains.”

“Interesting,” said Iḷēhaḥ before quickly turning back to Feyūnhaḥ with a sudden realization. “Three to ten families per tree! That many? It looks like I did not pay as much attention to the surroundings as I should have.”

“Well, you were very drunk,” said Feyūnhaḥ with a broad grin.

Iḷēhaḥ became flustered. “I meant before that! I tell you, if we were at my home, I could have handled my liquor far better than you. The air about this place makes me unable to tolerate even the smallest quantities of it.”

“Given what you said – about the Svyamhaḥ and milk that flows all across your home – I’d imagine you’d have the higher tolerance you speak of. Though how much of your home is real and how much is fantasy, I can only wonder.”

“I assure you that all I spoke – or cried of – yesterday is true!”

“As you say, maiden,” she said in a teasing manner. Iḷēhaḥ walked ahead of them as she pouted, while Feyūnhaḥ smiled and shrugged.

“Don’t worry, princess, Iḷēhaḥ is stubborn like that,” laughed Tūmbṃār from atop her shoulders.

She brought the boy down and patted him. “I know, I found out for myself yesterday.”

“Oh! What did she do yesterday?” the boy asked, looking up at her with curious eyes.

“Well, nothing you need to know.” She grinned, still patting him on the head as if to tell him to be docile. The boy gave a suspicious look, but he decided not to question further and looked behind himself before taking a renewed look at the way ahead.

“Is that where we’re going to?”

“Indeed it is!”

A large entrance stood before them with a pair of vast wooden and metallic doors parted to the side. On top of the entrance was a symbol of the Fiyukthi and a hammer that shined like the sun, bearing a similar likeness to the sigil of Feyūnhaḥ’s house. Right under the symbols could characters be seen:

As the boy gazed at the symbol, a blast of heat rushed through the opening and blew the boy back toward the princess’s legs. When the air calmed and the heat dispersed, he opened his eyes and shook his head. And smiling, he ran to the doors with the two ladies following behind.

Many articles of weapons, armors, and shields lined the shop’s racks or were placed under glass in sight of the customers. Some bore resemblance to the weapons and armor of the guarding statues, but most possessed variegated designs, hinting to their being of foreign make. Now Tūmbṃār rushed about the area, peering at all the various items they had on display as Iḷēhaḥ tried to keep a hold of him. Feyūnhaḥ walked past the main area, beckoning Iḷēhaḥ to follow. Iḷēhaḥ then snuck behind Tūmbṃār and grabbed him by the arm. She dragged him along with her as he tried to free himself to no avail.

“Stop it, child! We are here on business,” she said as she sighed toward Feyūnhaḥ. “Sometimes, I wonder if his stature has anything to do with his disposition, though he is older than he looks. Not even will he clean himself well unless I hold him beside me and scrub him in the water.”

Feyūnhaḥ laughed and patted her on the shoulder. “It’s in his nature! If I didn’t know better, I’d think you brother and sister! But with time comes wisdom, and I suspect he shall grow wiser than the two of us. He couldn’t have gotten very far if his eyes were not discerning and his guard not up. Remember that he wasn’t always traveling with you. Even were he to get lost in the forest, he’d surely be able to survive. He was probably already doing that before in any case, so no need to coddle him; the boy can take care of himself.”

Iḷēhaḥ held a sad face and sighed again. She let go of Tūmbṃār’s hand and looked him in the eyes. “I apologize, Tūmbṃār. Perhaps I am not as wise as I should be.”

“It’s fine, I don’t blame you. I’ll try to listen more often. Now, let’s follow Feyūnhaḥ!” And the maiden smiled and did exactly as the boy had said.

Following her, they made their way to the other side of the shop. A woman behind the counter, wearing some thick gloves and attire, approached them. Her horns oddly covered her eyes, but she moved the protrusions up and gestured with her folded hands. “Welcome, princess, what can I do for you?”

“Greetings, smith. We wish to have two weapons forged. A short sword for the boy, and an elegant staff for the lady. Also a Dvı̄sahlvah for the staff.”

She looked to her, surprised. “Pardon me, but they can use the Dvı̄sahlvah?”

“Aye, and very well, I’d think. The boy for sure, and the maiden – from what my brother suggests – has the ability to attune.”

The smith looked to Tūmbṃār and then Iḷēhaḥ, and she nodded.

“It will take a week to forge the items after confirming their specifications. Will this be fine?”

“Indeed. Gratitude to you,” and she took a small, ornamented bag with coins and dropped it on the table. The smith took it and bowed before her, prior to leaving to the backside of the shop.

“What was the point of us coming here if we were not going to get the weapons right upon asking?” Iḷēhaḥ asked, confused.

Feyūnhaḥ gave the maiden an odd glance. “Did you truly think they’d make the weapons right that instant?”

“They would surely have done so at my home.” Then upon realizing, she hastily said, “O! Forgive me! I forgot that the powers are receding from this world.”

“Now I’m even more curious to know where your home is, but you’d probably speak of it in metaphors and maybe riddles, so I’ll leave it be.”

“If Iḷēhaḥ won’t tell me, then I’m sure she won’t tell you,” the boy said with confidence, nodding his head.

Iḷēhaḥ blushed, and the two laughed. The smith then came out from around the corner and directed them to follow her. She took them to a massive stone hall where they could see the rest of the city behind large arched windows. Across from the windows hung racks of varying sized weapons and armor, different from those in the shop. However, they did not look finished, seeming more like prototypes or templates and exhibiting a lot of wear and tear.

She approached Iḷēhaḥ and moved her arms up, straightening her back. Using her hand, the smith measured her proportions from neck to shoulder to bust to hips. And when she finished, she stepped back and closed her eyes. A strained look appeared on her face as she rubbed her horns with her fingers. After a few moments, her eyes opened, and she proceeded to the rack. There she lifted a light suit of armor that was dull and drab in its colors, swayed around with loose handles and straps, and brought it to Iḷēhaḥ. She fixed it over her shoulders, attached the handles and straps around her waist, and let the scales of the skirt drape down her legs. The smith stepped back and nodded her head. Iḷēhaḥ examined the armor, but she was perplexed and gave Feyūnhaḥ an odd glance.

“Feyūnhaḥ, why am I wearing this set of armor? Are we purchasing this as well? I do not mind extra padding, though it would be cumbersome to travel with.”

Feyūnhaḥ smiled. “No, friend. You two will spar.”

And both looked to Feyūnhaḥ and said, “What?”

“Don’t worry, not against each other – not yet at least. It’s important that you’re well protected during this session. They will give you various weapons to wield, of the kind we asked to forge. While it would be better for you to fight against effigies first, the smith needs to know you can comfortably fight – at the very least in mock combat – using at least one of the weapons that she gives you. You’ll be staying here till we figure out what those weapons are. If we’re lucky, then it should take but a few hours. Unlucky, however, then maybe days or weeks.”

“But what about, baths, drinks, merriment?” complained Iḷēhaḥ.

“And what about, food, play, sights?” complained Tūmbṃār.

“No complaints from you two!” She looked to Iḷēhaḥ with a solemn face. “Isn’t it as you said, Iḷēhaḥ, we’re here on business.”

She hung her head low and nodded.

“And you boy, shouldn’t you be doing everything you can to complete your teacher’s task? You are his disciple, after all.”

And he too hung his head low and nodded.

“So, that being the case, the sooner you figure out your weapons, the sooner you can leave. If we don’t find out now, then forging the weapons would be a waste. Proper attunement requires that weight, handling, and form are balanced with whatever you choose to wield, though I don’t expect much from the short time you’ll be here, or I hope it’s short. And you Iḷēhaḥ should understand the importance of this, knowing the danger your enemy poses. I tell the both of you, don’t take it lightly.”

Iḷēhaḥ had been too complacent and knew she would need to be better resolved to fight their adversary – though she held reservation on her ability to endure such training. Tūmbṃār, meanwhile, could only feel the tension that rose within him from the prospect of fighting a demon. A sense of exhilaration one might call it, owing to the little knowledge he had of their ferocity. Though he wished to himself they would not have to kill it, he did not much like death being handed, regardless of reason.

They both kept to a serious expression but gulped and postured themselves in resolute form, attentive to the princess’s commands.

“You guys needn’t concern yourself with food or water either – no liquor for you, Iḷēhaḥ. The smiths and shop owners will be providing all the sustenance you need while you two are stuck inside.”

“Do you not intend to stay?”

“I’ll be out from time to time as I still have duties to attend to in the city. I assure you, however, that I will not be gone long. I intend to instruct you alongside your opponents, though you shouldn’t relax. My instruction, as some have said, is very harsh.” She grinned at them, and their hearts sank into despair.

Sweat trailed down Tūmbṃār’s face as he panted from exhaustion. The maiden fell face flat on the ground, almost as if she had been felled. The boy and Iḷēhaḥ sparred day and night against heavily armored opponents who parried all their blows with large metal poles. They would come and go at various intervals to give just a little respite to the two trainees. They had gone through at least fifty different short swords and staffs in the time that passed, and they had still not come across one that they could wield in a comfortable manner. Some were too heavy, others too long, and many left their grasp when they were to make a heavy strike. Were they able to train for just one day with a singular weapon, then the smith would know to forge weapons of those kind to a similar—if not exact—likeness.

Now, Feyūnhaḥ had been watching them while giving various instructions on how to pose themselves in a fight, to wield their weapons with grace and form, yet both could not take easily to such things in the short time that had passed. The boy was fairly good with his strikes, but he would often lose grasp of his sword. The maiden, on the other hand, was relatively good in defense and evasion but tired too easily.

Two times would they eat and drink a day, once in the morning and another at night, and it seemed to them that they would be stuck in that room forever. Feyūnhaḥ often left around midday and would not return till after the sun set. If ever she caught either the boy or the maiden taking breaks when they were not supposed to, she would sit on their backs and force them to lift her many times, chiding them the whole while. Like this, a week soon passed by and both the boy and the maiden had at last found their weapons of choice.

The boy took to a short sword a little over a foot and a half, the weight of which was not particularly light or heavy and the hilt of which was protected by a guard. The maiden took to a dark wooden staff light in weight, with a spiral tip, presumably where a Dvı̄sahlvah would be placed. The smith and the opponents bowed to them and took their weapons. When they left, both Tūmbṃār and Iḷēhaḥ collapsed on the ground, tired but relieved, and Feyūnhaḥ patted them on their backs.

“You two enjoy your training?”

They both looked to her and, with drawn-out voices, said, “Nay!”