THE boy wandered aimlessly in his search. He was quite spirited in the beginning, though as time passed and he looked and looked, the scenery became less and less interesting to him, and all he could think of was Iḷēhaḥ and the anger and sadness she held that night. And his mind was now in disarray, trying to think of what she felt.

He had already looked through many corners, alleys, and window panes of the shops but could find nothing of interest. Most of the people he approached ignored him and seemed quite annoyed that a random child whom they did not know would stop them in the middle of their business. As he walked down with a sullen face, a woman sweeping the front of her shop noticed him. She went to Tūmbṃār and brought his face up. Her hair was long and brown, and there was a knot tied on the back of her head. She did not look too old or too young, just about what he would consider his mother’s age and just a little lighter in complexion than Tūmbṃār.

She bent to him and asked, “What’s the matter, child? Are you lost?”

He shook his head. “I walked around town wanting to see many of the different things here. It’s my first time in a town like this, but I remembered that I needed to find my friend or at least anything that could lead me to her. But there was nothing I could find that could help me, and most people saw me as a nuisance. My friend had separated from us a while ago, but I hoped I’d find her here.”

She then lightly tapped his cheeks and brought him into her store. The wooden floor was clean, and there were tables and chairs set about its interior. Adorned along the walls and the ceiling were golden spiral patterns that represented the various symbols of the Gods. Around its circular stone walls were small unlit fire pits filled with a great degree of oil. A large sign hung in the back with an abundant amount of food set at the counter, where much of it looked like confectioneries and pastries.

She introduced herself as Lı̄vana and Tūmbṃār likewise gave his name. She was a shopkeeper, and all the sweets and desserts on display were of her own making.

She grabbed a small vessel and poured its contents into a clay cup. She then set it before the boy, but he would not touch it. She sat across from him and pushed the cup his way.

“Won’t you drink it?”

“What is it?”

She was surprised and thereafter asked, “Have you never had tea before? Granted, it hasn’t been long that this drink came from Pedyṃhaḥ but surely, all across Ārhmanhaḥ would’ve at least tasted it.”

The boy thought for a bit and shook his head. “I guess I’m not all.”

“From where do you come, child?”

“I come from a village called Parāftaram, deep within the Hematite Mountains. Travelers come from time to time, but I’ve never seen a drink such as this.”

She was even more surprised to hear that, and her curiosity grew as a smile spread across her face. “You’ve journeyed quite a ways! Will you tell me where all you’ve traveled?”

The boy then explained his circumstances and talked of the curse, his training with the sage, his meeting with a smith, a maiden, a wolf, a princess, a demon—though he later tried to dismiss it—and his travels through the Cedar Forest leading him to this town. And aside from the one slip-up, he hid as much sensitive detail as he could regarding their quest.

“You’ve had quite the journey!” she said in delight. “But to think such interesting folk still dwell about. I thought they had all left for other places. You don’t see much of them nowadays, especially demons, though apparently, reports of them do come from time to time.”

She then looked at his cup and noticed it was empty. She smiled at him and then went back to bring the metal vessel.

When she returned and had poured another serving of tea into the cup, she asked, “But concerning your missing friend. I do know of a story that seems similar to what you just described. Perhaps it may help you in seeking her.”

A little joy came in him, and he nodded immediately. Never did stories fail to delight or cheer him. One of the few pastimes he would regularly enjoy back home. And knowing Iḷēhaḥ was concerned with it some way, made him all the more attentive. And so she spoke at length:

“During the Era of Foundation, two kingdoms existed to the east and to the west when all the land was still one. The names of those two kingdoms were Pedyhaṣhatrak and Vzpṣhatrak. And two princes resided in those kingdoms: Vdātyavā, He who Pervades with Discipline, and Lūshīthō, He who comes with Innocence. As the kings of these kingdoms were close friends and allies, the two princes were raised with one another and as they grew, so did their strength and bond with one another.

“During their youth, the two kings approached a sage and prostrating before him, asked, ‘O Great Eṭrā, second of the great seven sages, who is patron to our kingdoms and who has greatly helped as much before, we have come seeking blessing from you for our two sons. What must we do to attain it?’

“The sage thought for some time and looked about his surroundings. It was a heavily forested place, but not far off from where he was sitting was a large clearing, and in that clearing were seven cows grazing.

He turned to the kings and said, ‘O Kings of the Eastern and Western kingdoms, gather milk from the seven cows in these seven vessels laid before you. Place them before me when you have finished, and I shall invoke those of Arhaḥṃār to give what it is you seek.’

“The two kings were elated, and with the seven vessels in hand, they immediately rushed to the clearing. Upon arrival, they could see the seven white and long-horned cows, with great humps, grazing across a lush grass field. Beside them were two stools. They took the stools with them and went to each cow to milk it. But it wasn’t as easy as they thought it would be.

“The cows would rarely stand still, and after just a little milk was gathered, they would run away. Each time they caught up to them, the cows would try to kick them. It took them seven days to milk all the cows and gather all the milk, but by the time they had finished, they noticed a rancid odor coming from the vessels. The milk had spoiled. Having taken so much time and energy to collect the milk, they felt little resolve for collecting it again.

“They looked about the area and discovered some flowers and herbs that they could use to mask the scent, and so they ground them up and mixed it inside the milk. When they had finished, they brought all the seven vessels before the sage, and the sage was pleased. He performed the ı̄zhṛā and cast the milk as oblations into the flames of the Fiyukthi.

“And when the flames rose on high, the images of the Gods appeared within and they spoke, ‘O Great Sage Eṭrā, why is it that you offer us rancid milk in the sacred flames? What is it that we have done to incur such displeasure?’

“The sage then grew furious and faced the two kings who were frightened. ‘Have you two no shame? If the task could not have been done correctly, why did you persist in doing so? You shall get no boon but a curse by me! When your sons have ascended their thrones, one of them shall be set on a path of hate and malice, and a great conflict shall come between them. Many demons shall both fell, but the one who has strayed shall show no compassion or remorse; all demonfolk that come by him, regardless of position or disposition, shall fall to his blade. These words I have spoken shall not be taken back and shall hold to the end of their lives. That is the truth.’

“The kings were horrified and pleaded with the sage. Though it was in favor of the Mānuzhhaḥ to defeat the Demons, it was not to their desire to annihilate their entire race. They only wished to recover the land of their forefathers, for surely, if one of their sons were to annihilate even the civilians, a great sin would befall their lines.

“‘O righteous sage, we have done wrong by you in our haste to collect the boon. Please forgive our children and us and take back your curse; we shall do whatever is needed to make matters right! We shall swear on that which is Arhaḥṃār to correct this injustice toward you!’

“The sage’s demeanor softened, and no more was he angry, but he held a grave face. He told them, ‘Swear not by it for you know not what you speak! No more can I do, having dispensed the curse. It is beyond my power to take it back, and it shall have to run its course. However, I can say this: while the curse shall hold for all their lives and much suffering shall come to your children, that suffering shall after a time come to an end, and peace shall thereafter reign for a long time. This is as much as I shall relate, now do with this as you will.’

“And the sage bade farewell and sent the kings on their way.

“When twenty-four hundred years had passed, the two princes ascended to the throne and embarked on many expeditions to exterminate the Demons to the north and recover the land. Yet, one day as they marched farther into the Northlands, they happened across a city, and in that city did many of the regular demonfolk live—strong, weak, children, wives, and elderly. Red and black was the sky but fertile was the ground, and abundant were foods and resources of all kinds.

“This shocked both of the kings, but having spent a long journey, they wished to rest in that domain. Though wary, the demons of that city did as they were asked and housed both the kings and all their soldiers in lavish estates and lodges.

“During the night, when all were asleep, Lūshīthō awoke and wandered around the city. He beheld many of the same qualities and circumstances that held in their own domains. Yet when he saw the demons dining on the flesh of men and women and killing them in droves to satiate their hunger, madness overcame him. In that single night, under cover of darkness, he single-handedly annihilated all the demons in that city. By the end of his onslaught was he covered from head to toe in blood.

“When morning had come, all the men awoke to find the streets and city dyed and stained red, with all its inhabitants killed. Lūshīthō wasn’t in his quarters, and Vdātyavā searched all across the city for him in vain. He had disappeared, and for a long time after that would he not be seen.

“News of the slaughter reached the demon-kings, and they were furious. Their ranks were bolstered, and a violent, turbulent war raged for many thousands of years later. Yet all the while, deep within the Northlands, news spread here and there that a lone man, clad in black and gray armor killed all demons who came across him, and this rendered greatly distraught the residents of that domain.

“Vdātyavā helmed a series of expeditions to cross farther into the Northlands, but all attempts failed. After many years, he at last decided to go alone and leave his and Lūshīthō’s generals and advisors in charge of further expeditions and ruling both kingdoms. Many of them appealed and said that they would accompany him on his search. But he refused all requests for he knew finding Lūshīthō would have to be done by him alone. He appealed to the Gods for protection and invoked the name of Arhaḥṃār to seal his oath.

“And for many thousands of years, he wandered the Northlands in search of his friend, going from village to town to city where some welcomed him, and others tried to kill him. Little he ate, and little he slept, his mind firmly fixed on finding Lūshīthō.

“During this time, it was said that the lone assailant had already felled millions of demons and that trails of blood would stretch from many of the cities for leagues upon leagues. The Demons, unable to stop him, branded him with the title, Ṃārshevhaḥn, the Destroyer of the Ṃārhaḥn and sought Vdātyavā for help. It was not long after he met with the demon-kings that he could find Lūshīthō in what is called now the Inlet of Kings.

“Vdātyavā called to his friend who was in deep meditation on the water. When Lūshīthō awoke, he held in his hand a Dvhaḥṣhtro and Vdātyavā knew at once what he planned to do with it. Words wouldn’t be enough to stop Lūshīthō and so Vdātyavā bore his sword, and the two friends fought for fifteen days and fifteen nights. Their blades clashed fiercely with one another, and their clothes were cut, and their blood filled the sea.

“As the battle raged, the force of their attacks warped the landscape and sent the edges of the land towering high above them and permanently sinking the sea. During the end of the battle, Lūshīthō had no choice but to use the Dvhaḥṣhtro and he invoked the Destroyer’s name. A great flame and lightning surged around it, and it was said that the effects of the weapon could be felt all across Ārhmanhaḥ. Vdātyavā rushed to his friend and clasped the Dvhaḥṣhtro. He too invoked the name of the Destroyer and with a counter-verse, he nullified the effects, but at expense of his left arm. The battle was over, and the two lay on the shallow water. When time passed, Vdātyavā sat next to his friend, who lost all resolve after that.

“Vdātyavā asked why it was that he sought to kill all the Demons and Lūshīthō responded, ‘That night when I saw the demons acting and living like us but more so dining on the flesh of our kin, I could not bring myself to feel any compassion for them, even though they were our fellow Ṃārhaḥn. To know they were cursed but still desiring their annihilation, I resolved that there was no hope to be had in peace for their disposition would not allow it. And so I set upon this murderous quest, incurring all the sins that should come my way, but even that I could not finish. Pray tell me what I should do now, friend?’

“Those words shocked Vdātyavā, but he comforted his friend and said that peace was brokered between the Demons and them, due to their actions. While he could not agree with the path that Lūshīthō had taken, he knew that it would’ve been nigh impossible to attain the peace they desired without it.

“The land that they and their forefathers had spent hundreds upon thousands of years recovering would, at last, be given back, and the Demons would slowly leave Ārhmanhaḥ. It wouldn’t solve the issue of the Demons’ appetite, no, but would ensure fewer of our kin were killed. Lūshīthō cried in his friend’s embrace, knowing it was the end of their suffering, and they after that ruled in peace for many years to come.”

Tūmbṃār’s eyes had grown wide as he was transfixed on the tale. He stood still, not realizing the story had finished, and Lı̄vana clapped her hands, and he came to.

She leaned to him and said, “Never a better listener I’ve seen! But know this, Tūmbṃār, even though your friend left in rage, there’s always hope in the bond you share with her. Her anger doesn’t mean she has cast you and the others aside. While she may distance herself, you need only be beside her, for in time, she will come to realize what she left behind.”

The door behind them opened, and Nakthaḥm was on the other side. He bowed to Lı̄vana and said, “Gratitude to you for looking after the boy.”

“Ah! you must be one of his friends! Please, you must stay for some tea and sweets, perhaps stay even for the night if you wish.”

The demon shook his head. “I am afraid that we must be on our way; our companions wait for us.”

She looked to Tūmbṃār and he nodded in kind. She sighed but kept a smile.

“Well, should you two or your friends be in the area, please stop by. Tūmbṃār here has been good company for me, and I would very much like to thank you all.” She held her hands in prayer and bowed to him. “You’re always welcome here.”

She then gave some sweets and desserts to Tūmbṃār who tossed them into his sack. He then thanked her, bid her well, and exited the shop as she waved her hands to him.

Feyūnhaḥ, Nakthaḥm, and Tūmbṃār met back in the center of town. It was noon, and the sun was directly overhead the Fiyukthi, but the sky slowly became overcast as it lightly drizzled. They waited a while for Sanyhaḥmān’s return, but as the hours passed Feyūnhaḥ began to fear something or the other must have happened to him.

“It would seem the monkey will not be joining us,” said Nakthaḥm.

Feyūnhaḥ shook her head and sighed. “No use waiting any longer; I hope nothing terrible has come his way. We’ll have to share what we found and find him quick! What have you discovered, Nakthaḥm?”

He related to them what he had found on account of following the Servants and upon finishing, the boy then turned behind, intending to run, but Nakthaḥm grabbed him by the neck of his shirt. “And where do you intend to go, boy?”

“To the sewers! There’s no reason to wait, Iḷēhaḥ may be there!”

“We have yet to hear what the princess has to say. And I much doubt the maiden is staying down there, regardless of her will or by force.” Tūmbṃār stopped resisting and hung his head low. “Now princess, tell us what you have found.”

She took out some wrinkled yellow paper and scrolls and passed them all to the boy and the demon.

“What’s this?” asked Tūmbṃār.

“They’re notes on experiments that the man who wrote this was conducting. I happened across a lone lady in the city and befriended her. It seemed her husband had disappeared as well, and after telling her that I would help find him, she immediately brought me to her home. It was filled to the brim with all manner of items and furnishments, and were it not for the exterior, I would’ve thought it much a palace. She even treated her servants quite well, unlike many of the other aristocrats I’ve seen!

“We talked for some time, and she afterward showed me her husband’s study. The room was quite spacious but also a mess. There were papers and ink and various utensils scattered across the floor and desks. I looked through them and gathered what looked to be the most important of them. When I was to leave, however, she became quite resistant, seeming to think I had only stayed there for a short time, even though many hours had passed; but after a little bit of convincing, she let me free, much to her dismay. It doesn’t seem as though she has many friends, and I felt bad for her.”

“You seem quite fond of her,” said Nakthaḥm with a grin. “But what of the notes?”

“Ah yes, sorry! Much of what these relate are of the essence of the elements and the powers and how one could extract them. Beyond that, however, I can’t make much sense of it. For what purpose power extraction would have and its relation to the current incidents at hand, I can’t speak on.”

Nakthaḥm and Tūmbṃār thought for a bit. The boy then had an insight and said, “Couldn’t he be extracting them from people?”

The princess gave him a strange look. “That’s not possible. Never has such a thing been done before, and were it even possible, what use would it serve? Such potent energy is beyond the capabilities of a regular person.”

“Perhaps the boy is right,” said Nakthaḥm.

He bent to the stone floor and laid the scrolls and paper on the ground. He traced his sharp nail along a paper depicting several drawings of people with lines and dots running through them, and illegible characters on the sides.

“These characters are symbols of my kin and the lines and dots going through these drawn persons represent the flow of energy. He may indeed intend to extract it. I have an idea as to what it could be used for, but I will not say what it is; not until I have confirmed for myself. Yet, with priests and priestesses involved, this elevates the matter even more. They may very well be working with other Yavhaḥṃār.”

“Surely that can’t be so?” shouted Feyūnhaḥ. She covered her mouth and looked about her, whispering to them, “Even though the Ṃārhaḥn are, for the most part, indifferent to your kind, to associate with them is another matter entirely, especially for priests and priestesses. You saw how it was my people reacted when they saw me bringing you, Nakthaḥm. I don’t see any good in this news. Sanyhaḥmān may already have chased after them. We sent him to the priests’ quarters; he must’ve found something of import there. Nakthaḥm, show us the hidden passage!”

He smiled and bowed. “As you wish, princess.”

The three of them then ran to the eastern side of town.