Chapter 3
The date was unknown to him. It had become impossible to count the days in the dark, but Ashok believed it to be sometime in late summer or early fall. Except there were no trees to see if the leaves were changing. Or Fortress might always have such a miserable, cutting chill, since the island was on the very southern edge of the world.
From what he had seen so far, Fortress appeared to be a land of barren rock and black sand. The terrain here was unlike anything he’d known in Lok, consisting of boulder fields and jagged peaks. The only plant life seemed to be stunted grass and the occasional stubborn bush. He had not thought that a place could be harsher than the volcanic wastes of Devakula, but he had been mistaken.
He ran for hours, then slowed to a walk as the sun began to go down. It would have been far too easy to fall off a cliff in the dark, and in order to keep moving he needed the Heart of the Mountain to aid his body, not his eyes. When he stopped to listen carefully, he couldn’t hear the shouting of trackers or the baying of hounds, which was fortunate. Following him would have been easy, considering how much blood his lacerated soles were leaving on the ground.
Naked except for a filthy loincloth the guards had tied around his waist before his trial, Ashok might have frozen to death that night if it hadn’t been for the Heart sustaining him, much as it had during his imprisonment.
The worst part of being in that miserable dungeon hadn’t been the endless hunger, or the pain of rotting skin and dying muscle, but the knowledge that by being there he was shirking his duty. Deprived of any opportunity to escape, that feeling had gnawed at him worse than the rats. It had given him time to think, though. To ponder on his many mistakes and failures, of friends who had lied to him, and of systems that had failed.
Once satisfied that he had evaded any pursuit, he had gone to sleep beneath a rock shelf.
He dreamed of Thera.
At dawn, Ashok awoke to the smell of cooking meat.
It could have been a trap to draw him out. They had to know he was starving—he had been fed so very little for so long—and he had seen absolutely nothing to forage during his escape. He had seen no signs of civilization other than the fort. That fire might have been started by warriors searching for him. If so, that was even more reason to investigate.
The scent was easy to follow. The smoke was coming from a narrow ravine below him. Ashok crept forward on his belly across the sharp rocks until he could see down inside. There was a lone figure sitting by a campfire. Still concerned it was an ambush, Ashok used the Heart to sharpen his senses—and the instant he did all the physical agony it had been pushing aside came flooding back—but there was no sign of others lying in wait, so he turned the Heart back to keeping his body alive.
Ashok stood and limped down into the ravine.
The man by the fire was old and wiry, dressed in bright orange robes, with his head shaved except for a single silver braid at the back. He wore an ornate sash that was clearly some symbol of office. As Ashok approached, the stranger studied him, seeming almost bemused. “When the collectors said they found a dead man on the beach who came back to life, I didn’t know he would still look like death walking these many months later.”
Though Ashok hadn’t had an opportunity to see his reflection lately, the description was surely not an exaggeration. Thin as a famine-struck casteless, with hair grown long and matted with filth, and skin that was covered in sores and rat bites, Ashok probably appeared more corpse than man.
“So you know who I am.”
“I only know what I’ve been told about you. Whether those tales are true or not, I’ve come to decide for myself. Please, sit, warm yourself. Eat.” And when Ashok hesitated, trying to puzzle out the odd accent, the old man said, “You are a stranger here, unused to our customs. If I offer my hospitality it would be a terrible sin to betray you to your enemies or poison your food or drink.”
The thought of poison as a trap had never even entered Ashok’s mind, but that was because he was immune to most of those anyway. “Thus far I have not been that impressed by the hospitality of your people.”
“Fair. The Guildsmen Council are cruel and pragmatic, yet simultaneously bound by custom to not slay anyone who claims to have the spirit of Ramrowan returned. However, that doesn’t mean that they cannot imprison them in the hopes that nature will take its course and the nuisance will be removed. For it was written that Ramrowan required less sustenance than needed to keep a small child alive, for his body would be nourished by his righteousness.”
“Your beliefs sound ridiculous. So my imprisonment was a trial to see how well I can starve?”
“It is more of a tradition now than anything. There have been so many frauds and false claims over the years that the guilds have dwindled in unbelief that Ramrowan will ever come back to us. Yet they must keep the masses appeased. After all, if mighty Ramrowan were to return as prophesized, what prison could hold him? If you are really him—”
“I am not.”
“Then surely it would not have taken you nearly a year to escape.”
“Impossible.” A weakness had come upon him after coming out of the ice water, the likes of which he’d never felt before, and after being captured he had fallen into a great slumber. Only he couldn’t have been asleep that long. “Do not lie to me.”
“Don’t believe me if you don’t want to, but do I sound like I’m trying to lie to you?”
It did not. It appeared it was even harder to track the passing of time while alone in the dark than he had thought. “The month. It is the end of Bhadra, then?”
“We use a different calendar than you mainlanders so I don’t know what you name the months.”
“The last month of summer. Autumn begins in Asvina.”
“My, you must have been in the water for many days even before getting here to not know when you are. It is still summer, but fall is upon us soon…Be at ease. I am of no guild. You are safe here. Rest, eat. Let us converse.”
The elder had to be mistaken, as there was no way an entire year had passed. Even in his delirium it could have only been a month or two. For now he would attribute this misunderstanding to a difference of language. Ashok sat, and he had been so chilled for so long the nearness of the flames immediately made his flesh sting. An unidentified piece of meat was cooking on a spit. His stomach twisted with hunger pangs, while his mouth watered at the smell. The old man passed over a gourd that served as a water container. When Ashok drank deep, it was the best thing he had ever tasted.
“Who are you?”
“I am Guru Dondrub.”
“Guru…I am familiar with that title.” Ashok had once been sheltered by a decrepit forest casteless who had claimed that same honor. Keta had seemed to think it mattered, but Keta also fancied himself the high priest of a forgotten god. “I was told guru means you are supposed to be a wise man.”
“Some fancy that I am wise. Others think me a fool. I have followed your trail all night because you are Ashok Vadal, an enemy from across the sea, whose stubborn refusal to die has created quite the commotion in Xhonura.”
“I’m too busy to die.” Ashok took the offered skewer of meat. “Why have you sought me out?”
“My people have waited centuries for Ramrowan to return to us. I have watched for sign of him my whole life. I’m checking to see if you are him. I have never been to the mainland, for I always believed Ramrowan would be reborn here, among his servants who remained faithful instead of the infidels who deny the gods he served, but I see no reason he couldn’t be reincarnated among your people instead. I would hate to miss him just because his avatar got lost in our mountains.”
Ashok took a tentative bite, then nearly gagged, because it had been so long since he had had any real meat, and this piece was mostly gristle and hot fat.
“Do you not enjoy seal?”
He had seen those odd creatures on the shores of Devakula, flopping about and barking like dogs. He didn’t like things that lived in water like fish or demons, but weren’t either. It seemed duplicitous. Only Ashok was so hungry that casteless gruel would have been a delicacy right then. “I will honor your hospitality, then I must return to Lok.”
“I’m sure you will, in time.”
“There is no time.” When he had been cast into the sea, the Capitol had been exterminating whole regions’ worth of casteless, and Ashok was oath-bound to defend them. Who knew what had happened in his absence? “I have duties to attend to.”
“What manner of duties?”
“There is a rebellion, led by a prophet. I am sworn to aid that prophet.”
“And this entire rebellion will fail if you’re not there?”
“The rebellion will more than likely fail even if I am there. It is mostly casteless fighting against the entire might of the Law and all the power of the Capitol and the great houses. However, it is my responsibility, so I must return.”
“That sounds futile.”
Ashok shrugged and took another bite of oily seal fat.
“Some would argue that life itself is futile, Ashok Vadal, though I do not ascribe to such pessimistic beliefs myself. However, you don’t look healthy enough to fight a war right now. I marvel that you are alive at all, after the neglect of the guildsmen. The journey back to your homeland would be the end of you.”
“I will recover.”
“You sound certain.”
“I am.” Even though he was no longer a member of the Order, he would never tell this stranger about the Protectors’ secrets. Ashok kept his vows, even to the institutions that were now actively trying to kill him. When it came to Protectors, it was either kill them fast, or not at all. His body would heal. It always did.
“Ah, to live a life with such certainty.”
“Only about some things,” Ashok muttered before going back to his meal, which was simultaneously sickening and a long-denied delicacy.
“I am envious. Even naked in the wilderness, starving, unarmed, alone in an unfamiliar hostile country, you think you have your path figured out.”
“I have.”
“Oh really? The guildsman I spoke with yesterday said you intended to leave the way you arrived. Sadly, even in the unlikely event that you were not devoured by demons, that is not how the currents work. Things from the mainland drift to Xhonura, but things from Xhonura are swept south, where there is nothing but icebergs. That does not sound like a very good plan to me.”
Normally Ashok would have been annoyed at the stranger’s prodding, but he had been alone for so long it was actually nice to talk to someone other than himself. “Fortress has remained unconquered because of the water between us. In rare years it is cold enough for the ocean to freeze solid enough to march across.”
“And when it does, your warrior caste inevitably tries to invade us, only to be driven off by our guns.” The Guru shook his head sadly. “It is most tragic to watch their bodies accumulate on the beach—until their blood attracts the demons, of course.”
“I do not have the time to wait around hoping for a winter sufficient to walk home. I’ve seen firsthand that your Fortress magic—those guns you speak of—are sometimes smuggled to criminals on the mainland. The rebellion had some ourselves. Your people bring them in somehow. The Law never discovered your method, but it is clear there is another path your people use. I will return by this smugglers’ route.”
“And how would you find this most secret way?”
Ashok was unsure of the details. “I will make someone talk. They always do.”
“A good plan. Direct, though it will be difficult since you know so little of our culture. One of the pitfalls of diplomacy, I suppose.”
“There will be nothing diplomatic about it. I know enough about you to proceed. Your guilds sound like our great houses. Powerful factions making demands of one another. Nominal allies, yet sometimes foes. If this gun smuggling is approved by these guilds, then someone of high status among them will know the way. If the smuggling is against your laws, then your criminals will know. I will find out which, seek the suppliers out, and then force them to tell me how they get their weapons into Lok.”
The Guru nodded along at his plan. “It is a well-kept secret. Those people will fight you. How many lives would you be willing to take in order to accomplish this goal?”
“I don’t know. How many people live on this island?”
The old man chuckled, until it slowly dawned on him that Ashok wasn’t exaggerating. “You would be willing to commit such savagery in pursuit of your goals?”
“I do not enjoy it, but I am good at it.”
Though elderly, it was clear his mind was keen, and he studied Ashok with calculating eyes. “You’ve taken a great many lives, haven’t you, Ashok Vadal?”
He didn’t need to answer. If Dondrub truly was a wise man, he would be able to read the truth from Ashok’s countenance. Well over a thousand men had died directly by his hand, and who knew how many more had perished as a result of his actions. To most it would be a weight greater than the dungeon’s chains, but to Ashok, killing had simply been his existence.
“Perhaps you are Ramrowan reincarnated, after all.”
Ashok chewed more of the greasy seal meat in silence for a moment before saying, “Those are the beliefs of your people, not mine. I have spent my life believing there is no such thing as spirits. That there is no life after this. Yet…I think I met this Ramrowan once. If not a ghost, a memory of him that remained in the black steel of my sword. It spoke to me while I was at the edge of death.”
“Ramrowan spoke to you?” Guru Dondrub scowled as he thought over the implications of that. “Hearing the words of the gods’ champion is a bold claim, usually made by charlatans or mad men.”
“Do I strike you as deluded or dishonest?”
The Guru shook his head no, or at least Ashok assumed the gesture meant the same thing in this strange land.
“Good.” He went back to his meal, trying to eat slowly, so as to not make himself ill because his stomach had become so unaccustomed to real food. He would force it to stay down because his body required nourishment to heal. Magic could only do so much.
“I don’t think they’re allowed to talk about the Age of Kings in your lands, so do you even know what Ramrowan’s mission in this world was?”
Keta had talked about it a lot. How the gods had sent a hero to give man magic, and drive the demons into the sea, and how Ramrowan’s descendants, yesterday’s kings, had become today’s casteless, but Ashok didn’t know what of that was real history and what was Keta’s wishful thinking. “Not really.”
“I could teach you about it.”
“I already have one priest to preach at me. That is more than enough. I believe he makes his religion up as he goes along. I expect you would be no different. Only at least I know his intentions are honorable. Your intentions are a mystery. I am merely being open about my plans with you because if you are truly the wise man you claim to be, then you will see the wisdom in aiding me. The sooner I get off this island, the sooner your people will be safe from me.”
“I will ponder on this.”
The two of them sat in silence for a time, the Guru seemingly deep in thought as Ashok ate, comfortable by the fire. When the old man spoke again, his manner had become solemn, his voice barely a whisper.
“When you met Ramrowan, what did he tell you?”
Ashok had to think back to that moment, shortly after the molten chunk of Angruvadal had been buried in his chest, as he had waited on the edge between life and death. “He told me to finish what he started.”
During their conversation, Guru Dondrub had told him there was a small settlement in the next valley where Ashok could rest and get supplies. Though it pained him to postpone his duties any further, the old man was right about him being in no condition to travel, so he had grudgingly accepted the invitation. He would recover his strength, then find a way off this island.
There was no reason for him to trust anyone on Fortress. All he knew for certain was that they had been enemies of the Law for centuries, the one place that did not bend its knee to the Capitol. The criminal alchemists of Fortress were despised and feared by all Law-abiding men.
Despite that, the Guru struck Ashok as a straightforward, genuinely curious type. The old man swore that their destination was outside the jurisdiction of those who had imprisoned him. Ashok doubted this was an ambush, but if it was, so be it. At least then he’d probably be able to loot a pair of shoes from the dead.
He had taken the Guru’s offered blanket to use as a cloak. As they walked downhill, Ashok discovered that Fortress wasn’t quite as unhospitable a land as originally thought. It was still biting cold, but on this side of the ridge there were a few trees and some grass, and in the foggy distance he saw herds of small hairy cattle. When Ashok remarked upon those, the Guru seemed surprised that he could see that far, but then he explained that they were an animal called a yak, which were the island’s main source of milk, meat, and hair, and one of the few types of livestock that could actually withstand the winters here.
“Do they not have yaks in your country, Ashok Vadal?”
“Maybe. I never had to concern myself about such things.”
“Everybody should concern themselves with where their supper comes from. Keeping food in your people’s bellies is the basic foundation of a society.”
“I was of the first caste. Agriculture is the obligation of the worker caste, though much of the labor is performed by casteless.”
“I thought you said that your leaders are killing off your casteless. Yet they are who grow your food? Your leaders must be rather stupid, then.”
A few years ago such brazen talk about those of higher status would have caused Ashok to take offense. Every man having a mandated place had been one of the fundamental truths of his life. Except much of his old foundation had crumbled while consorting with rebels, and weeks in motionless solitary with nothing to do but ponder the Capitol’s hypocrisy had eroded it even more.
“Many of them are fools, yes. A few are rather smart. Others are dumb, yet cunning. The Capitol is a place of treachery and lies.” The words were bitter, as he thought about his battle with Lord Protector Devedas—who it turned out was just as much the criminal as Ashok was—or how Grand Inquisitor Omand had cruelly set Ashok down this path of rebellion to begin with. “It is vain men plotting against each other, with no cares who they destroy in the process of getting what they want.”
“What are your leaders good for, then?”
“They make law. Law is necessary.” It turned out that despite everything he had gone through, some answers were still reflexive. The wizard Kule had been thorough when he had rebuilt the broken mind of a casteless boy into a perfect servant of the Law. Ashok scowled as he reconsidered the issue for himself. Even Thera’s rebels had required rules and order to keep them from destroying themselves. “Some law is necessary.”
“You’d think foolish men would make foolish law.”
In the old days, Ashok had never questioned the Law. He had simply done what was required of him, always. Good and evil hadn’t mattered, only legal or illegal. There was no need for conscience when one had status sufficient to justify any act.
“Sometimes.”
Guru Dondrub continued to pontificate as they made their way down a path so steep he had to use his walking staff to keep his balance. “It is my experience that there is a certain malady that powerful men often fall victim to, where they think their being clever about one subject makes them an expert on all the other many things in the world. They declare all their thoughts correct, merely by wishing them to be so. Then the masses must force false smiles onto their faces and cheer on their betters, even as those elites vomit up ignorance and proclaim it as truth.”
“Are you sure you’ve never been to the Capitol?”
The Guru snorted. “If your rebellion triumphs, what manner of ruler would you be instead, Ashok Vadal?”
The question was unexpected. “I’m no ruler. I am bound to serve the prophet, so I will.”
“Ah, but if you are Ramrowan reborn, then you are destined to rule. He was king once and it is said he will be king again. If it is a true prophet you serve, the old gods’ commands shall come through them, but it will fall upon a mortal man to bring about their will in this world. The avatar of Ramrowan will be the one to rebuild his kingdom. It is said he will be a great leader.”
“Then that is one more reason I am not the man you seek.”
“Perhaps, but I’m still trying to decide.” The old main pointed with one arthritic finger. “Our destination is atop that far hill.”
As Ashok called upon the Heart to sharpen his vision, it momentarily stopped providing his body with strength, and the sudden impact of exhaustion and trauma nearly dropped him where he stood. The settlement consisted of one large building, surrounded by several small huts. Once he was certain there was no sign of soldiers waiting there to recapture him, he let his eyes return to normal, and waited for the light-headedness to pass. Ashok despised feeling feeble and hated using up the precious magic of the Heart like this, but he had no choice. He did his best to not let the Guru see his momentary weakness.
“What is that place?”
“It’s a monastery. I suppose with religion being stamped out in your lands for so long you won’t be familiar with the concept. It’s a place where monks—priests of a sort—gather in study and contemplation.”
More priests were the last thing Ashok wanted. He would have preferred the soldiers.