Chapter 12
The Guru rode upon a cart pulled by a yak, led by a monk. Ashok walked. Five of the monks had accompanied them, each of whom was carrying a lantern on the end of a pole to keep their group from making a wrong turn in the dark. The path was narrow, with rock walls on one side and a steep drop on the other.
The night was very cold, so the Guru was wrapped in a pile of blankets. The rest of them made do with their too-thin robes. Ashok could survive nearly anything, but this chill was enough to make him pity the monks.
“It is said discomfort leads to enlightenment, Ashok Vadal. Do you believe this?”
Ashok just gave the Guru a noncommittal grunt. He was tired of foolish questions.
“I do not know if I agree, but it is said that deprivation is good for the soul. These monks forgo comforts in an attempt to master themselves. That is why you should be happy for them. They needed to take the cart to town to get supplies anyway. This way they can make the journey in the bitter cold and pitch black, in order to bring themselves closer to understanding the nature of the universe.”
“Why don’t you get up and walk, then?”
“I’m not seeking enlightenment. That’s their path. My purpose is to seek out the avatar of Ramrowan. And since we will be parting ways soon, I was hoping you would indulge an old man’s curiosity a bit longer.”
Ashok’s patience had worn thin. “If you ask me anything else about philosophy, I’ll throw you off this cliff.”
“I will stick to practical matters, then. You said this man who would be king…Devedas? That he is the reason you wound up in the sea. Tell me about him.”
“I would rather not.”
“If the vast but barbaric nation to our north is to have a new governor, it behooves the people of Xhonura to know about his nature. Consider this answer a repayment for the kind generosity of these monks. Surely a place to lay your head, several days of nutritious gruel, and some moth-eaten robes to wear are worth some conversation in return.”
What could Ashok say to this stranger about his once brother? “Devedas is the Lord Protector, but a secret criminal, plotting to overthrow the judges. We were close, and he was the best man I’ve ever known. When last we met, we dueled to the death. It was the hardest fight of my life, but I prevailed.”
“You killed him, then?”
“No. I was about to, but I was stopped.”
“How?”
Ashok paused, because repaying hospitality only went so far, but part of him wanted to talk about what had happened, because he didn’t really understand it himself.
“I was poised to crush his head, but Angruvadal told me to spare his life, because Devedas was still necessary.”
“How could this be? You told me Angruvadal shattered long before you went into the ocean.”
“It did.” Ashok placed one hand on his chest to feel the ragged scar tissue there. “When it was destroyed, a molten shard of it was launched into my heart. It eventually cooled, yet I can still feel it there. I believe some measure of Angruvadal’s magic remains, as it sometimes warns me of danger and possibilities in battle, like it did when it was whole.”
When the Guru didn’t respond, Ashok looked back over his shoulder. By the light of the lantern hanging over the cart, he could see that Dondrub was staring at him, mouth agape, eyes wide.
“Impossible! There’s black steel…inside your body? Black steel destroys mortal flesh. It is toxic. How are you still alive?”
“Angruvadal was my oldest friend. It did not wish to kill me.” Ashok returned his attention to the path. Even his reflexes could not stave off gravity, should he step blindly off a cliff.
“No man could withstand having the element of the gods embedded beneath his skin. The magic found in demon flesh is weaker, which is why it can bond with a human, yet even then it will eventually cause the host to turn into a horrific hybrid creature.”
“I have fought those,” Ashok stated. “They are foul things, more dangerous than either of the beings they’re made from.”
“Demon is nothing compared to the magic of the ancients. Wizards say a fragment of black steel the size of my fingernail contains more magical energy than the whole body of a sea demon. Black steel is pure magic, designed by the gods themselves. No man could withstand such perfection.”
“Do you doubt my word?”
“I’m not saying you’re lying. I’m just struggling to understand.” A moment later, the Guru asked, “Then this ghost of Angruvadal commanded you to stay your hand, and you did?”
“No. I still tried to kill Devedas, only when I did not listen, Angruvadal stopped my heart.”
“Like a heart attack?”
“I would assume.” Ashok had not enjoyed being chastised by his former sword, but its purposes were inscrutable. “I was rendered helpless. Devedas survived, his allies arrived, and I ended up unconscious in the river.” He believed that had also been Angruvadal’s doing, to keep him from being pierced by a volley of Garo arrows. It might also have been how he had made it across the icy sea, placed into a state similar to the southern frogs or lizards that survived each winter encased in blocks of ice, only to return to life in the spring.
Despite his obstinance, apparently Angruvadal still had need of him.
The Guru whistled. “And you say Angruvadal is your friend. I would hate to see what it does to its enemies!”
Over a thousand times, Ashok had seen what Angruvadal did to its foes, severing limbs and exploding bones. By its mysterious and unforgiving standards, it had treated Ashok with great compassion in comparison. “It is unpleasant.”
“If what you say is true, Ashok Vadal, then you would be a unique specimen among mankind. No one has attempted to claim such power for themselves and lived to tell the tale, since the days of Ramrowan himself at least, and he was molded by the gods to be their perfect soldier. What would it even mean to be a hybrid of flesh and black steel? How could such a thing exist without the guidance of divine architects? The implications of this are…troubling.”
“That is the least of my worries.”
Except the Guru was too lost in thought to hear Ashok’s muttered response, and they continued walking for a time, with the only sounds coming from the creak of the wheels, and the endless cries of unfamiliar seabirds. Of the wise man’s many questions, he had finally gotten an answer that had rendered him too preoccupied to speak. It made Ashok wish that he’d told that story sooner.
However, their conversation had brought another incident to mind. During his battle with the wizard Sikasso, he had pronounced Ashok a hybrid, the same as him. Was this true? He had been killed, hung from a meat hook, yet had come back to life. Whether that made him some kind of magical abomination or not, it didn’t change the importance of Ashok’s vows. It was his duty to protect Thera, and anyone who intended to sacrifice her, whether they be man, demon, or god, would have to go through Ashok first.
“How much farther to this town?”
One of the monks gestured to the northwest. “We get there near sunrise, Avatara.”
“Do not call me that.”
“As you wish.”