EYES were locked toward the food. The four were seated on soft-cushioned legless chairs that rested on the elegantly patterned carpet, spread across an expansive golden hall. They sat near an arched opening where the night breeze flowed and brought with it a cool sensation that relaxed them.

Plates of rice, curry, fruits, vegetables, and seasoned meat were set before them one after the other, the deep aroma of the myriad spices filling the room and making their stomachs growl loud. And they refrained from eating until all was brought forth.

Tūmbṃār was quite surprised by the recovery of the other three, though the lord and princess were bed-ridden for most of the day. When night came, the Servants spread their powers around the two, and in an instant, they were able to move around, though they needed splints and walking sticks for their weakened legs until their powers recovered. Usually, with such injuries, external healing could not do away with the associated pain; that was what Athruyam had mentioned. Perhaps the pain did not bother the two as much. They were, after all, seasoned when it pertained to activities for soldiers.

Iḷēhaḥ on the other hand, healed rather quickly and moved about with relative ease. It also did not seem that she had any external healing, at least not of which Tūmbṃār knew. With just six hours of rest, she was out and about, a far cry from where she had been three months ago, barely able as she was to move then after just a few laps around the city. She had indeed become hardened and accustomed to the life of a soldier – or at a minimum, to the relentless training of the siblings.

Their hunger became hard to bear, and while Athruyam and Feyūnhaḥ displayed eager faces, gulping now and then, Tūmbṃār and Iḷēhaḥ were visibly salivating, though the maiden tried her best to keep herself dignified. The servants were most appalled by the sight, and the lord and princess did all they could to contain their laughter.

When the last plate was set before them, the servant said, “Eat, my lords and ladies!”

All four at once dug into the plates laden with food and gorged themselves. The crockery emptied at a staggering rate, and the servants became wide-eyed. They hurriedly brought in more plates, but in a matter of seconds, they too were also emptied.

There were also nine – rather tall – bottles of Svyamhaḥ and the maiden, the princess, and even the lord gulped them down like water. More and more food was brought to match the pace of their eating, and yet more liquor was poured down their throats.

Many would have thought their stomachs were bottomless, and the servants were most surprised to see the lord dining in such a disrespectful manner. Not only did he not observe the silence before eating, but he was also feeding himself with both his hands and did not even chew much before swallowing; he was even emptying whole bottles of the sacred liquor down his throat.

Upon seeing this, the ladies cheered him on to drink even more, to which he cocked his head in response. His sister engaged her food in likeness to him, though it seemed with just a little more reserve. It, however, did not stop the servants from thinking how she should be above doing such things, and they feared how she should fare later with the ministers and officials.

A surprise it was then, for them to see the boy eating with a modicum of decency, and not partaking of any of the meat or the alcohol, which for the alcohol was to be expected. A fine example of temperance and abstinence from whom they thought the rest of the group could learn.

But the maiden beside him was the one who shocked the servants the most. She furiously chugged down large gulps of water and liquor, also gulping large bites of food at a rate unmatched by the other three. Her regal appearance was of such disconnect to her demeanor that it would have anyone question her status or associations, even with the knowledge anyone had of her. She even, at a certain point, took whole pitchers of liquor from the servants’ hands and poured their contents straight down her throat, at which all held their mouths agape.

A Great Unquenchable Drunken Thirst: One could only wonder how her stomach would handle it the next day.

Athruyam and Feyūnhaḥ calmed themselves after their thirty-third serving, but Iḷēhaḥ and Tūmbṃār kept going, most likely to outpace the other. They stacked plates and bottles and pitchers on top of one another in rapid succession. The stacks themselves looked like a series of miniature metal and glass towers.

They glared at each other and attempted to grab as much food off the plates before the other could swipe it. They went back and forth like this, and the stacks just kept rising higher as all eyes drew to the gluttonous race.

After five hundred total servings between both Tūmbṃār and Iḷēhaḥ, and fifty pitchers of Svyamhaḥ, the two were finally satiated, and they fell backward to the floor, content and drowsy.

Iḷēhaḥ then leaped back up, having realized she wanted to ask Tūmbṃār about his special training with Athruyam. Yet the boy was out cold. She gave a funny glance to the lord before she once again fell back down and napped on the soft carpet.

A week passed, and Iḷēhaḥ and Tūmbṃār were ready for their journey. They dressed in their usual attire, but now bearing pads on their shoulders, knees, and elbows, and thin chainmail under their clothes. They met under a small pavilion in the garden as the morning light dawned on the land. Fully refreshed and with all belongings packed, they listened to Athruyam and took notice of Feyūnhaḥ who donned a cloak and held a bag over her shoulder. Athruyam spread a map across the table and directed their attention toward it.

“You will be making your way nearly a hundred leagues to the Western woods. Take the river pass and you should reach a gate, and from that point should you continue on foot. The path will slowly descend across many leagues, and eventually you shall come to the cave, guarded by two imposing statues. There, you shall find the Dvhaḥṣhtro. You will have to undergo a trial to retrieve it; be wary of your surroundings, for the force that guards the Dvhaḥṣhtro will cast illusions about you. Be not deceived by what you shall see. I suspect the demon will be lying in wait until you have gathered the armament for yourselves. Be ever on your guard.

“Once the demon is dealt with, return hither and take the Eastern pass toward the Central Mountains. The Dvhaḥṣhtro shall do its work about there, and perhaps the sage will at last reveal to you what he has planned.”

And the boy and maiden straightened their backs and shouted, “Yes, my lord!”

The lord was pleased and continued, “Very good. Now that this business has been taken care of, you should know that both the wolf and my sister shall be accompanying you,” and the two were surprised yet delighted over the news. “Presuming there are no qualms with their coming with you, they both have business to attend to beyond this valley, and I suspect they shall be of great help in your coming conflicts.”

Those last words sent a shiver down the maiden’s back, knowing full well he referred to her own mission.

But she quickly cast the thought away and responded, “They shall be wholly welcome by us! They are both friends as dear as can be, though I wish I could converse with the wolf.”

And the boy chimed in, “Yes, yes! Feyūnhaḥ and the wolf should come with us! The more the merrier!”

“I am glad at your words, friends!” said Athruyam.

“But what of the officials and the aristocrats, Feyūnhaḥ?” asked Iḷēhaḥ. “Will they not cause trouble for you?”

“On that account, you needn’t worry, Iḷēhaḥ. They very much know about this, and in fact are quite happy with my leaving,” she said, sighing. “I decided to travel with you two, not only because I wished it, but because now I have some business with people in the other continents.

“It seems a council is to be held at some point in the future among the various Daivhaḥhō. In fact, Athruyam had just received word of it only recently, having been informed that it was in some manner related to your mission Iḷēhaḥ. But this brother of mine won’t give me any more details concerning it,” she said as she glared at him.

Iḷēhaḥ looked to Athruyam confused, and he said, “Indeed, a council is to be held, and though I have only been informed of this recently, you should know what it means, Iḷēhaḥ.”

And she sighed and bit her lip.

“None of the other officials and aristocrats personally wish to have anything to do with the other Daivhaḥhō and so they saw fit for me to send my sister in their stead, even if their intent was malicious. Though as for the meeting place and when it shall be held, they have not revealed it as of yet. It seems the Laukṣhramās are the ones who shall be presiding over it, and given their abilities, they should well give directions when the time presents itself.”

Feyūnhaḥ looked to Iḷēhaḥ and said, “You already know my situation here, Iḷēhaḥ; I truly don’t see any recourse now, if I’m to show myself as being worthy to them. And I would rather also not have a friend leave me behind.”

And Iḷēhaḥ nodded with a smile. Then with a grin of her own, Feyūnhaḥ added, “There’s also the fact that while I could wait here, I understand you needing greater assistance seeing as how both of you were just barely able to defeat me and Athruyam.” They could not deny it and were now embarrassed.

Athruyam then cleared his throat and said, “Aside from that, the wolf has not given me his name, and I do think we should now call him by something other than wolf.”

The boy thought for a bit and said, “I know a great name! How about Vrihkhaḥ?”

Iḷēhaḥ blinked a few times as if to register what the boy had suggested. “Does not that word mean wolf in Ahasṭṛṭhaḥr?”

“Aye! I like the sound of it, so I say we use it.”

The maiden smacked her palm to her forehead, and the lord and princess laughed. It was decided then that the wolf’s name was Vrihkhaḥ as no other suggestion was cast forth. When the wolf heard that they had chosen his name, he awoke from his nap and walked over to Tūmbṃār and licked him, much to his amusement. The lord, princess, maiden, and boy then went back inside to eat breakfast. Thereafter, they made one final check over their belongings—weapons, garments, cooking utensils, herbs and lotions and extracts, and their Dvı̄sahlvah. When all was accounted for, they climbed atop Vrihkhaḥ and bid Athruyam farewell.

The wolf, with great speed, ran down the side of the mountain and around the perimeter of the city. He soared through the crowds of Autirsāh making their way to their shops, and though shocked to see Vrihkhaḥ running through like a streak of lightning, they noticed Tūmbṃār and Iḷēhaḥ and Princess Feyūnhaḥ atop him. Upon seeing them, all shouted, “That One and All shall manifest in you!” and the three shouted back, “As in you!”

The river was long and narrow, and they traveled down on a bowl-shaped boat. There was a light mist in the air, and the group could see some tropical foliage interspersed among the cedars. A faint aroma emanated from the dew, the humidity rising to dampen their clothes, and make them sweat. The boat floated along gently, and Vrihkhaḥ walked on the banks of the river. He kept close watch on his surroundings as the boy and princess slept. The maiden, however, could not rest, for she was eager to see the demon, but not in a pleasant sense. Her scorn for their race did not abate and grew stronger as the days passed. She would not let it go away or let it harm Tūmbṃār; of this she was certain.

They came to a path past a massive arch after some hours of traveling, and Vrihkhaḥ pulled them to the edge and held the boat. The three disembarked and held their gaze on it. It was made of stone and greatly worn, consisting of two pillars that merged into an arch at the top. There was no inscription to be had on it, and yet it seemed ancient.

“To think such an old structure would be so close. And that too on my first time on this side of the woods!” said Feyūnhaḥ, marveling at its form.

“Who built it?” asked Tūmbṃār.

“That I don’t know. It doesn’t bear any inscription, let alone markings of any of the Daivhaḥhō. Given its height, I’d say it very well could have stood since the Days of Formation or Foundation. Rare it is to see structures from that far in the higher ages resting abandoned.”

“Wow! It would be older than your brother – maybe even older than you!”

And Feyūnhaḥ shot him a glare and held his head firmly by her fingertips. He quickly avoided her gaze and covered his mouth.

“It’s not kind to suggest a woman’s age, child.”

The boy bit his tongue with a smile and said, “My bad. I’ll keep that in mind.”

She sighed and said, “While you may think otherwise, I am quite young. Much younger than most of my kin, giving just another reason for my predicament.”

And she then turned to Iḷēhaḥ who stood transfixed on the gate, her eyes filled with awe and wonder. Feyūnhaḥ found the gate interesting but not as much as it seemed to be to the maiden. The way she looked at it was no different than a priest who supplicated to the fire, a sense of deep reverence that only the devout could understand.

“Is something the matter, Iḷēhaḥ?”

The maiden snapped to her senses and shifted her gaze to Feyūnhaḥ. “No, nothing at all, but I have to say, this gate would be as old as the statues we saw at the entrance to Siḍhrehḷūr. A magnificent relic of a bygone age! How I would have loved to live in such times.” She then moved herself closer to it. “But in any case, being as old as it is, I should certainly pray and pay respect to it.”

Feyūnhaḥ then burst into laughter. “You have quite the interest in ancient things, but to think a drunk like you would pray! I couldn’t help but laugh the first time you told me. I didn’t expect you to have made it into a habit, especially with relics as old as these. Not even the people of Siḍhrehḷūr visit the statues that guard the entrance.”

“Rude!” the maiden said as she bent and touched her head to the base of the gate, bringing the boy down with her. “We are not perfect my fellow Ṃārhaḥ. You would be wise to pay respect to those who came before and those who stand above us; perhaps they shall answer your calls and cure you of your afflictions.”

Feyūnhaḥ curled her hair about her finger and grinned. “I’d rather keep my afflictions than have them cured; I much like staying drunk.”

They continued on foot. The cedars were large and arched inward, and the sun rose high, but the canopy obstructed much of its light, letting only a few rays scatter through. The air was warm and made their skin tingle, bringing about a peculiar sensation—one that was prickly but also invigorating, as if the forest itself was lending them its power. Tūmbṃār, unable to contain himself, raced forward along the path and Iḷēhaḥ and Feyūnhaḥ followed after. Vrihkhaḥ only picked up his pace a little as the air stifled him and made him pant like a dog.

The terrain opened and soon became rocky as the high sun focused its rays down on them, like beams. They were only fifteen miles into their journey, and already were exhausted. The change in climate was too much to bear, and they decided to stop and rest when they reached a clearing deep inside the forest.

The night was gentle, and the air was only mildly warm. Vrihkhaḥ slept beside the flames, and the maiden roasted some food. In front of the fire, Tūmbṃār practiced honing the elements with Feyūnhaḥ while Iḷēhaḥ watched. The boy put extensive effort into bending fire and space in the hope of increasing the power behind his attacks. With each successful attempt, he increased the size of the flames till they expanded to nearly three times his height. In every case, he also performed a control exercise of tugging and absorbing the flames while cycling his power between himself and the princess.

But at that size, it proved too difficult to maintain. He lost control after but a few moments, and the flames expanded with zeal. Iḷēhaḥ was knocked off her seat, Vrihkhaḥ awoke and leaped away, and Feyūnhaḥ pushed the boy back. She then brought both her arms forward and spread her powers through the flames. It enveloped them, confining and pulling them down. And then it dispelled, and the embers vanished in the air. The princess rubbed the tips of her horns, took a deep breath, and exhaled. She turned behind only to see a thin trail of smoke and the remains of what had once been food.

Then she turned to Tūmbṃār, saying, “Well, I guess that’s it for today. We should practice farther away from here next time, Tūmbṃār. I much doubt I can protect you, Iḷēhaḥ—and our belongings—were it to grow any bigger.” She pulled Tūmbṃār up and brushed him down. “Though, you do grow stronger as the days go by. Now you already possess more strength than either my brother or me. It should be only a matter of time before you exhibit greater control over your powers and surpass us in those too.”

Tūmbṃār then looked at his hand and closed and opened it repeatedly. “I still don’t feel I’m strong enough. I sense that the demon’s even more powerful than what Athruyam told us. We’re still far from the cave, and even here I feel dread so great that it makes me shake. Being able to defeat you and Athruyam just isn’t enough. I need to become far stronger than I am now. Much stronger.”

Tūmbṃār then let himself fall backward, and on the ground, he spread his arms and legs wide. He turned toward Iḷēhaḥ who walked to him. “What do you think we should do? Will we die if we go to face him?”

The maiden crouched beside him and parted his hair. “We should just fight it to the best of our ability. I for one wish to defeat it, but supposing I cannot, at the very least, I shall not let you die. Nor do I think Feyūnhaḥ will either.”

The princess smiled and said, “Aye! Though my brother would be sad, knowing you’ll survive is good enough for me. There’s still much for you to do. I can’t say for sure where your journey will take you, but knowing the Dvhaḥṣhtro is involved, it’s probably greater than you imagine. I wouldn’t be surprised if even the Gods were related to this whole mess – even with their abandonment, though conversing with them is another matter. My brother would surely know something about this, but he doesn’t let on to much of anything.

“But even with this said, I don’t doubt that you’ll fell the demon. My brother is rarely wrong in such matters. And even if this demon should prove much stronger than him, there’s no reason you’ll not be as strong if not stronger by the time we face it. It has been only one day; we still have many more of travel before we reach our destination. So, worry not over such things, for you’ll surely become stronger than you think!”

The maiden nodded in agreement, and the boy flipped himself upright. He looked to them intently and said, “I shan’t live by your deaths! My friends shouldn’t leave me like that. If we lose and you leave, then I’ll fight and follow!”

And he held his fist in the air. Iḷēhaḥ then clasped his fist gently and put it to her cheek.

“Say not such things, child. Khāryaḥ, is what should be upheld. If fate deems us to be slain, then so be it. We will at least have let no harm come to you. Though it seems unfair, life has always presented itself as such and knowing that, we do what must be done without regard for ourselves. With that in mind, what you should do is live. For your parents. For your teacher. And for us. I am sure the sage has told you much about these things. Do not think his words to be idle since they are the standard by which all the Ṃārhaḥn live, be they animal, plant, Man, or God. And though I abhor and detest the Demons ever so, even they understand this principle and abide it to the extent that they are willing. Do not fall below them, but be greater! That is all I ask.”

Tūmbṃār sat silent for a while and then asked, “There’s no other way?”

The maiden shook her head and said, “Nay.”

She brought the boy’s hands to his lap. He hung his head low and nodded.