“Your fear!” the demon roared, his black beard jostling from the wind of his breath. “I can taste it. Good. Shake! Tremble! Know your place, humans. For it is a low place, far below my kind. Tell me, what happened to your arm?”
“Enough!” Mina shouted, cradling her wooden left hand. “I come bearing a gift. And an opportunity.”
“Oh? Do you, now? Speak. I shall hear you, two-faced girl.”
“For sixteen years, you have rotted away in this dungeon, unable to use your powers. Unable to even stand. My gift is a taste of the outside world.”
“How generous of you. No, truly, you impress me with your hospitality. Your food is far superior to anything I’ve tasted in the Demon Realm. Tell me. Why should I leave?” the black-bearded giant demanded.
“If it is food you want, you shall have all the food your belly can fit,” Mina said, smiling. “But what about combat? Surely you itch to use those great powers of yours? Demons crave combat, after all.”
“What do you know of us, girl? What do you know of our culture? Nothing. Do not deign to presume otherwise.”
“I want you to hunt an Ashborn.”
Until now, the demon had lazed—bored. His speech had come slowly. Regally. But the moment the princess mentioned the Ashborn, he sat straighter, his head nearly hitting the ceiling.
“Ashborn? Explain. Now!”
It was not a request. It was an order. Mina found herself talking before she realized it.
“The Ashborn is named Ekavir. A gray-skinned, red-eyed demon. We want you to kill him.”
The demon sighed and slumped back. “You call that Ashborn? Girl, do you even understand what Ashborn means? What you speak of is a gray demon, not Ashborn. Rare, yes. But nothing special.”
“Then this should pose no issue for you, yes?” Mina replied. “Or are you afraid to kill one of your own?”
The demon scoffed. “I have killed more demons in my life than I can count. I’ll gladly kill one of my ‘own’. The demons in this realm are no demons at all. Broken and weak, they grovel before you. Before you!”
“Good,” Mina said. “Release him.”
The knights and mejai surrounding her visibly stiffened.
“There is no need to be alarmed, men!” the Mejai of Realms said. “Even without chains, he wears his subjugation collar. He is no threat to—What are you doing!”
“No need, mejai,” the demon spat, walking hunched against the ceiling to the jail bars.
“I believe you are mistaking something. You do not command me.” With each step, the stone reverberated, shaking dust off the walls and floor.
The demon extended his arms, ripping his chains free.
“I chose to be imprisoned.”
The demon gripped the bars of his cell, forcing everyone away.
“Nothing to fear!” the Mejai of Realms repeated, as if attempting to convince himself. “Those bars are three inches thick! No force can break them!”
“I chose to remain here of my own volition.”
Several tattoos flared to life on his body, glowing bright with power. He heaved and bent the steel bars as easily as a human would bend straw.
Then he stepped through.
“I am Cirayus,” the demon said, cracking his neck. “And I choose to help you. Now, go and fetch my weapons.”
The sun had only just peeked above the horizon when Vir arrived at the oasis that used to be his and Maiya’s ‘spot’. After having spent the night at the cave entrance with Bumpy and Neel, he’d determined that sustenance was his highest priority. Though he’d obtained nuts, dried fruit, and a small waterskin from his cave cache, he’d left Daha in a rush, without adequate time to prepare for a trip.
Neel had bounded off the moment he’d arrived at the oasis, excited to be back at a familiar spot. He was currently running around the pond, having the time of his life.
Vir let the bandy enjoy itself while he retrieved the oversized waterskins from Bumpy’s back and kneeled by the pond’s bank, submerging them. Ordinarily, he’d never drink water untreated, but he’d long ago confirmed that the water was clean. Something about the underground spring that fed the oasis kept the water potable.
Where do I go from here? The Pagan Order? Rani?
The question had lingered on his mind through the night. While Hiranya shouldn’t be able to track him, Vir didn’t know what resources they possessed. It’d be foolish to assume they wouldn’t send people out. Even if they weren’t tracking him, he wanted to avoid running into Hiranyan scouts and spies as much as possible.
Kin’jal was out of the question. While they were Hiranya’s enemy, they detested demons and Ashborn even more than Hiranya. It was too dangerous.
When he’d met Lord Janak’s avatar at Valaka Amara—the lost outpost of the gods deep beneath Daha—the god had told him to seek the Pagan Order.
Vir trusted Janak, but every story he’d heard of that place had been negative. He’d even seen demon slaves being shipped to the country on Bakura’s ship.
The safer option was to first head to the Rani Queendom. Known for its open borders, economic prosperity, and stable, fair rule of law, Rani was said to be a utopia. More importantly, Hiranya held no authority there, which made it difficult for them to pursue him.
Kneeling on the sand beside the pond, he traced a general map of the area with his fingers. Riyan had drilled the entire Known World into his head, forcing him to write out all the countries, major cities, and even large towns. Vir had resented the man for it at the time, but now? He wished he could apologize to Riyan. The information was worth its weight in seric.
Rani was a large country with many cities and towns, the closest of which was Parul on Hiranya’s southern border—a stone’s throw from Daha. Vir drew the various cities, placing them at approximately the correct distances.
To get there, Vir would have to travel either to the Daha-Saran highway, or to the access road that led to Brij. Then he’d break off from the road, swinging south of Daha before crossing the border. He estimated the distance at around 550 miles, all told. It’d be quicker going through Daha, but he dared not risk going through the city after recent events.
That was certainly the most logical option. It was also the one Princess Mina would assume he’d take. While Vir doubted Hiranya would pursue him to Rani, it seemed foolish to take chances.
Vir drew a series of chevrons representing the North Legion Mountain range, which ran north to south, bisecting the sliver of western Rani from its larger eastern half. He moved his finger farther south along the sand and drew an X on the west coast, west of the Legions. Zorin.
It was a small port town to the west of Rani, and much farther south than Parul. Vir estimated it at over 700 miles from his current position. Ash’vas could gallop at forty miles an hour for a few hours at max and could sustain a trot at half that speed. But on the terrain he’d traverse, Vir doubted Bumpy could manage half that. At ten miles an hour, even with a full eight hours of travel a day, it would take him nine days.
Still, there were three reasons that made Zorin appealing. First, Rani shared a border with the Pagan Order, and Zorin was just a hop away from the Pagan Order capital of Balindam. He could gather information there before deciding to enter the Voidlands.
Second, Hiranya would never suspect him of taking that route. No one in their right mind got anywhere even close to the Pagan Order. There was a reason an entire mountain range separated the country from most of Rani.
And lastly… if Vir did venture to the Ashen Realm at some point, he could travel southeast to Avi, Rani’s capital, and from there east to Matali, which shared a border with the Ash Boundary. Matali had been in decline, and their borders went unpoliced. Their garrisons on the Ash Wall were understaffed, and Vir figured he’d have a far easier time sneaking past the wall there than at Kin’jal or the Altani.