DARKNESS had settled in that space. The pillars would exert no more energy, but light once again came in the form of fire, which danced on the princess and the demon’s hands. They alighted the pillars, and the red and orange tinges brought sight back to them. The high priest sat dejected on the ground. Feyūnhaḥ picked up Tūmbṃār and she, Sanyhaḥmān, and Nakthaḥm sat around the high priest.

He looked up with a sullen face and asked, “What more do you seek from me? Have I not given you all what it is you wanted?”

“You seem to have forgotten our reason for coming,” said Nakthaḥm. “We seek the maiden you met with; what was she doing, and where did she go? Yet having seen the circumstances surrounding you, we would also like to know why it was you were summoning one of my kin? Especially during such a time as this.”

The high priest sighed. “There is little meaning in me being silent, so I shall do as you ask. After all, my life is now forfeit. Let me answer your second question first. I wished to destroy this town and journey to the summit of the Trdsyhrvti to see if it were possible for us to commune with the Gods and to do that, I sought the aid of Druhastuṃār. Were the Gods really there, then surely they would have come to meet him. And I know of the situation of which you speak but do your friends know? Perhaps it would be better for you to relate this to them before continuing.”

Nakthaḥm agreed, and turning to the princess and monkey-man, said, “Before I speak of that, Sanyhaḥmān, we have not yet told you why it is we are traveling. With us is a Dvhaḥṣhtro, and a very powerful one at that.”

“What! You four have acquired a Dvhaḥṣhtro?” asked Sanyhaḥmān, greatly surprised.

Feyūnhaḥ and Nakthaḥm nodded and he scratched his head, breathing deeply. “Ah me, what have I gotten myself into? I found it unusual that two of you carried Dvı̄sahlvah, but I suppose there’s greater reason for you to hold them than others. Do you know what it is you’ll find atop the mountains?”

Before Nakthaḥm could continue, the priest interjected, “A Dvhaḥṣhtro! So, it is true; the Gods really are there after all.”

“Ho! So, people’s beliefs are failing,” remarked Nakthaḥm before continuing, “so monkey, while it is true that we journey to the mountains in the distance, we do not yet know what it is we shall find there. What comes shall be determined by the boy and perhaps even the maiden. That is currently all we know in relation to our destination.” He then remained silent for a bit and looked around him as if he were being watched. “I sometimes think my kin are about watching my every move. The situation in the Lower Realms is not altogether good, yet I guess one could say it was never good to begin with. Certain factions have arisen, and many of those, though subordinate to the lord, still wish to encroach upon Ārhmanhaḥ. But now is not the time for them to do so. As Athruyam said, it will still be some time before they come. I suppose the boy’s task is related to this mess in some fashion.” He turned to Feyūnhaḥ and said, “Has all I said satisfied you, princess?”

“For now, yes,” she said with a sigh.

“Now high priest, would you tell us, why is it that you sought to destroy this town? You destroying it and climbing the mountains seem to be two separate things, do they not?”

The priest bit his lip and said, “Nay, I desired to side with the Demons when the time came to pass. I thought much that the Gods had abandoned us as have many others; there was little reason for any of us to believe when we had not heard a single word from them over these long years. Though we acted pious and sometimes zealous, we only wished to keep ourselves from unwanted attention. It would do little good for us to renounce our livelihood. Even so, I wanted to see if the Gods were truly there or not, if they truly had abandoned us, and if so, make them pay for it! But only after siding with your kind. Me destroying this town with Druhastuṃār’s power was one way I sought to do that, perhaps giving all the killed denizens as food for them.

“Having communed with various apparitions and Demons from the Hells, I came to know of the impending invasion. I could have become a demon myself, but had not initiated the contract, and even if I had, such a transformation would do little good for me.”

“In my opinion, that would have been the better bargain,” said Nakthaḥm much to Feyūnhaḥ’s and Sanyhaḥmān’s displeasure. “It would not have been as easy to ally with the Demons as you suspect it to be, especially given that you used our own power to do as you bid. The Yavhaḥṃār do not take kindly to such actions.” He clicked and brushed his nails. “Yet the Gods remain, but they have indeed abandoned you, and no more shall they come to your aid. If any business they have in Ārhmanhaḥ, it is merely for their own interest. It has been a long time coming, but events leading to this day and even into the future have set in their minds our role in this grand universal play.”

The priest remained silent and seemed angry but more so saddened by the news. He had just a little hope that they would come back to their lost siblings.

Nakthaḥm then asked, “And what of the maiden? What was her business here, and where did she go?”

The priest hesitated for a bit, yet composed himself and cleared his throat. “I was immediately drawn to her upon sight. She seemed, as it were, almost like a goddess. And the amount of energy flowing in her was incredible! Were I to have taken her captive and used all the power contained within, I could have surely summoned Druhastuṃār then and there. Alas! It was not meant to be so, and perhaps for the better. Her presence seemed heavy, and it took all I had to approach her. Her face, while gentle and serene, held beneath a cold and perhaps raging persona.

“I could feel it and asked her, ‘Where it is that you plan on going, pious child?’ as if almost directed. She had come to the Fiyukthi to pray, and though I had ill intentions, that was all I could say.

“She stood before me and bowed and said, ‘To the mountains on a pilgrimage. Perhaps to see my forefathers.’

“I gave her my blessings and took her to these underground chambers, though away from the captives so as to not arouse suspicion. There is a path that leads directly into the mountains, and bidding me well, she went on her way. That was the last I saw of her.”

“Well, we have the information we sought, yet she must be rather foolhardy to make the journey through such a desolate path. I suppose we should bring these people back to the surface,” said Nakthaḥm as he stood up. And looking down at the high priest, he continued, “We shall have you and your conspirators help us, and after that will the lord decide your fate.”

Using the earth element, Feyūnhaḥ and Nakthaḥm chained the high priest and the other Servants by their hands and feet, though they left the hands just a little loose. With them now passive, no more desiring to resist, they made the conscious ones carry one other with them. But there were not enough to go around, and so many rounds they made that stormy night until all the kidnapped individuals were brought back to the town.

The priests and priestesses were clandestinely handed to the guards, who were distraught over this revelation, yet they made sure to keep this quiet and away from the eyes and ears of the citizenry. When their loved ones were returned home, there came much clamor among the residents, and for long into the night, they chanted the names of their saviors.

Morning had come, and the southeastern sunlight shined through the window and concentrated on Tūmbṃār’s face as if having aimed itself toward him. And he awoke with a sudden impulse and looked about to see that he was back at the inn. He could smell the petrichor outside the window as small droplets of water fell from its edges.

The sun had just crept over the roofs of the buildings but he noticed none of his friends’ belongings around. Remembering what had happened the day before, he immediately sprang out of his bed and with haste, got himself ready and rushed out of the room. He asked the innkeeper where they had gone and said a procession of guards had taken them to the lord’s castle in the northern district. He thanked him and ran from the inn.

He followed the crowds of people making their way to the north side, toward the aristocrat district. While the aristocrats would have been displeased over the procession occurring near their homes—regardless of the lord’s mandates—today was special as all the captives had been returned home and all in the city knew about those who had saved them. When the crowds noticed the small boy pushing against them, they recognized at once that he was one of the saviors and carried him toward the front. Tūmbṃār thanked the people before running off.

The crowds started to thin a fair bit as he got closer to his destination. They were kept a good distance away from the gates by a barrier of guards, but he snuck underneath as the people pushed against them. The guards saw Tūmbṃār running behind them, and a few broke from the line and gave chase. The crowd then took notice of Tūmbṃār and shouted that he was one of the saviors, and the guards immediately stopped. When he reached the large white gates, two heavily armored soldiers blocked his path.

“Let me in! My friends are on the other side!” shouted Tūmbṃār.

They bent down and took a close look at him. Noticing he was the one who had been on Feyūnhaḥ’s back the night before, they bowed to him. “We apologize, Sir Tūmbṃār. Pass beyond the gates; the lord and your companions await you.”

They opened the large gates, and beyond them, Tūmbṃār could see an expansive garden with trees and flowers of all kinds. Though he did need to hurry, he could not help but take in the sights along the way. Red lilies, acacia, jasmine, iris, and white saxaul wafted their aromas about him, and within each flower patch was a set of three sycamore trees laden with ripe figs.

The garden was elevated on terraces, and he walked along an upward path, passing through many archways leading to a summit. And when Tūmbṃār arrived at its end, he looked down the straight path to see a white castle comprised of the same smooth stones of the town but packed into taller structures. The courtyard filled with similar flora was surrounded by a tall white fence.

The castle had four towers – two on each side – encircling a pillared dome consisting of seven layers. The fence lowered in height as it moved closer to the castle, and beyond, he could see the entirety of the lake spread before him on a promontory, endless and vast in all its glory. The boy gazed in awe as he walked along the path. When he returned to his senses, he noticed soldiers standing on either side of the path toward the entrance. Among them was the captain whom Tūmbṃār had met at the Fiyukthi.

“Salutations, Captain!” said Tūmbṃār as he approached him. “Did you happen to see my friends? I was told they had been summoned to the castle?”

The captain was delighted to see Tūmbṃār and ruffled his hair. “Yes, child! Make haste; the trials are to be held soon. Quite the surprise it was to see a band of priests and priestesses, including the high priest held responsible for the kidnappings. Though many of us are happy that the captives were recovered, it comes as no consolation to know the Servants of the Gods were responsible. I know not how the lord should react to this,” he said as he sighed and lifted his hand from Tūmbṃār’s head. “I hope you and your friends can do something of this; it would not bode well were they to be given the death sentence. The Ṃārhaḥn forgave their order of their misdeeds during the Era of Unification, since it was still they who held the paramount duty of contacting the Gods on our behalf even though it was in our power to do so on our own. The people have become a selfish lot, burdening the priests and priestesses with much while we continue to live to our hearts’ content. Regardless of intention, I and many others feel they should be forgiven.”

Now the boy had an understanding as to what was going on, and said, “Don’t worry, captain; if it’s in my power, I shan’t let anyone die!”

The captain smiled, and Tūmbṃār bid him well before scurrying off into the castle.

Large spanning halls met Tūmbṃār, many painted with images of the Gods and legendary figures. The pillars from the outside continued into the interior, but the boy was confused in which direction to go.

A servant, however, heard his call and rushed to the boy. He wore a shirt similar to Tūmbṃār’s but a sarong for his lower half. He was perplexed as to why a child was in the halls of his lord, but eventually recognized who Tūmbṃār was and bowed to him.

“Sir Tūmbṃār! Quickly now, the trials are about to begin. Your friends are waiting in the throne room.”

The two made haste across the large halls and eventually came to two towering but magnificent doors. Instead of opening the outsized doors, however, within the center, he pushed open two smaller ones to the surprise of the boy.

“Why have such large doors if they aren’t going to be opened?” asked Tūmbṃār.

Through the servant seemed in a rush, he decided to answer the boy’s question. “These halls were constructed long before us by the forefathers of the lord. It was said that this castle has stood here since the Era of Foundation when our ancestors were still like giants upon this earth. Without considerable strength, you would not be able to push open these doors.”

He then remembered Feyūnhaḥ’s story. But aside from that, it seemed sad to him that these magnificent doors should remain closed. Then an idea came to him, and he asked the servant to step aside. He held out his arms from his body toward the center of the two doors, and a rush of wind came from the south and circled them. With the strength of a tornado, the air shot from his arms and forced them to open directly into the walls, smashing a considerable amount of its surface.

On the other side sat a man in an ornamented throne seated within an even larger throne. Upon its tall ceiling was a magnificent painting depicting the Yoking of the Gods, a scene where the Gods conjoined with the Svyamhaḥ, made by the seven sages. In its center was an oculus that not only allowed the light to pass through but also spread it throughout the entire space. It was as if the room were self-illuminating.

A series of steps then led to the smaller throne, and on either side stood heavily armored soldiers, all attentive and resolute. Tūmbṃār shifted his gaze to the sides and saw many aristocrats, dressed in exquisite robes and seated on tiered bench seats. And toward the middle stood his friends and the high priest who was in chains.

All within the room looked at him with wide eyes and were dumbstruck over what had just occurred. The doors to the throne room, not opened for ages, were launched to each side as if they weighed nothing to the child. And that child held a grin on his face. A mix of emotions welled within the room, but the single man sitting on the throne stood and bowed. He was the lord of Viprūtaram and bore a tight raiment, gilded with many patterns, a golden fhorlia, sash, ornamented scepter, and a thick beard.

“Welcome, child, to my castle! I am Lord Prelūshyodhaḥm – for I am One who is to Shine as a Ray of Light before my subjects. I have heard much of you from your friends, but to think one such as yourself could open the doors to the throne room! Magnificent! Not even the strength of a thousand soldiers could push those doors open,” said the lord as he clapped. The aristocrats, though confused, clapped as well.

“Why does he lack tact in these situations?” said Feyūnhaḥ as she slapped her forehead with her palm.

Nakthaḥm patted her shoulder and said, “While true he does not seem to understand courtesy in any general sense, he does have an endearing heart, and it seems the lord has noticed that, regardless of his display of power. Be not too harsh on the boy.”

“I said something similar to Iḷēhaḥ before,” she said with a laugh. “Perhaps I should take my own advice.”

The boy then ran to the princess’s side and looked around him. “Wow! This room is huge! So, this is what it’s like inside a castle. It’s even bigger than the rooms in your home, Feyūnhaḥ.”

“Aye, we don’t take much pride in having large spaces, though given this place’s history, the magnificence it exudes is to be expected. Not unlike the ruins and statues you’ve already seen in the Western woods and the entrance to Siḍhrehḷūr.”

“Right! but the people on the seats are dressed differently. Are they aristocrats?” asked Tūmbṃār his eyes beaming with wonder. While he had seen many in Siḍhrehḷūr, this was the first time seeing ones of his own kind.

Feyūnhaḥ was quite confused over his amusement but she nodded. The boy then ran to the seats, and then, folding his hands, he bowed to them. The aristocrats were surprised, and the one closest to him stood, walked toward him, and bowed in likewise fashion.

“Speak your name, child,” said the aristocrat.

“Tūmbṃār!” answered the boy with delight but then—remembering that it was proper to give the meaning—he continued, “for I am They who shall Overcome!”

The aristocrat smiled and responded, “And mine is Hayutsu – for I am One who Desires to Fight, or perhaps argue is better. You may not remember, but you and your companions saved me and many others. Your companion Feyūnhaḥ had talked with my wife Sāstishā and had promised her that she would rescue me and the others, though it seemed she and you were already intent on doing so before having met her. I once again give my gratitude to all of you, as much as can be dispensed from my heart!”

He prostrated himself before Tūmbṃār and even clasped his feet. Surprised and shocked, Tūmbṃār leaped back as if in fear of having his feet touched.

“I’m sorry, but it’s not right for you to pay me such respect. My teacher would get quite mad,” said Tūmbṃār in an uneasy manner.

This confused and saddened Hayutsu but brought approval from the rest of the aristocrats. Though Tūmbṃār and his friends were recognized as saviors, pride still held strong in the aristocrats who saw all others as beneath them. One could say they felt great shame that it was not one of their own who rectified the situation, even more so that it was not even a commoner of the city. To have to rely on outsiders greatly unnerved them.

“Though it saddens me that you cannot accept my gratitude, I ask, who is your teacher that has bestowed such power and given you such commands?”

Tūmbṃār hesitated for a moment, looking to the others for guidance, but they did not know what to do. It was up to him to decide how to respond. He thought for a bit on that spot while all were eager for his response.

At last, he said, “My teacher told me to be wary of giving his name, but I shan’t refuse your question. His name is Vādruhaḥ Thoesyum.”

The entire assembly fell quiet. Then deafening clamor resounded all at once, for all were shocked; his friends, the aristocrats, the lord, the guards, the servants, and even the chained high priest. Prelūshyodhaḥm ran down the stairs toward the boy.

He grabbed his shoulders tightly, and in desperation, said, “Surely you jest! You cannot really mean to say that he is your preceptor?”

Tūmbṃār did not understand the reason for such a response. Prelūshyodhaḥm was beside himself, as were many others in the assembly. Though his teacher was special in many ways, he hardly found him a person to garner such attention.

He said, “That’s what he called himself. Why is it so surprising?”

Prelūshyodhaḥm gazed into his eyes and then loosened his grip and sighed. “This is quite the revelation. The sage said to have lived during the Era of Tribulation is still alive!”

The boy was even more confused, “What do you mean? He couldn’t be that old? He looks no more than seventy or so. Though his hair is very ragged.”

“Do you not know that the person with that name is the one who has written the Atneṃārhaḥn and is the compiler of the Vādrunṃs?”

The boy’s eyes grew wide upon hearing that. “He’s the one who wrote that!” shouted the boy. In all his time with the sage, he had not once thought him to have been related to those holiest of works. “Couldn’t he just be another person with the same name? There have to be other people with it.”

Prelūshyodhaḥm shook his head. “I assure you, there is none other with that name. That name has power behind it; not just anyone can be given it. We are all bound by the powers that still reside here, and such titles that are conferred by the Gods themselves have much power behind them. Even the name you speak of can only be uttered by a few; none within this room should even be able to utter it. Perhaps such a thing will change in another time, but since the division of the continents, the power behind certain words, names, and titles though weakening, have not wholly vanished.”

Tūmbṃār though shocked like the rest, felt he had been cheated by not being told this. He looked about him to the aristocrats, the high priest, and the others. All either looked away or shook their heads, not knowing what to say.

“To think such a great sage was your teacher?” said Prelūshyodhaḥm. He prostrated before him but did not clasp his feet. “Though I wish to receive the blessings of the sage for my sickly daughter, alas! I shall refrain from touching your feet. I shall not force you to disobey the words of your teacher who may well curse for me for pushing you against his injunction.”

“Things seem to have taken an even more interesting turn,” said Sanyhaḥmān. “Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea to follow you guys after all; this indeed should turn into a delightful adventure.”