A nightmare for any army, but his enemies were no army. They were Ash Beasts, guided not by commanding officers, but instead driven by primal instinct.
They could very well attack from the north.
And yet, the nature of the sea meant most beasts would fork to the south, entering Iksana lands. Vir had initially hoped they would disperse there, but Janani said that while some of the previous hordes veered farther south to Jalak Kallol—Iksana’s underground stronghold—many came straight for Samar Patag. Whether attracted by the denser prana of a demon-inhabited city or for some other reason, nobody knew.
Immediately to the south of Samar Patag lay the natural barrier of the Garga River, which originated from its namesake inland sea. A single stone bridge crossed it—one that Vir was now rushing to destroy.
Yet even without that passage, Vir feared the river wouldn’t stop the horde. Years of careless trash dumping into the sea—another Chitran legacy—had led to debris gumming up the river, and its flow was pitifully low.
While an army might not attempt to ford it, Ash Beasts would have no such reservations. Destroying the bridge made sense—anything to slow them down—though Vir regretted being unable to do anything more.
Maybe it’s for the better, Vir thought as he cut through the bridge’s supports with his katar’s Blade Projection. It’ll be easier to guard the city with an enemy right at the walls. Less distance to travel.
It was a dangerous gambit, and Vir knew it. One slip-up and the monsters would charge through Samar Patag’s decrepit walls, flooding into the city.
It wouldn’t take many before Shan was overwhelmed. It wasn’t a question of numbers—Shan held a full reserve of prana within him. Vir fully believed his friend could down dozens of the weakened horde.
The issue was that there were many paths enemies could take once inside the city. Buildings in which they could hide. He couldn’t find them all before they found the hiding Gargans.
Vir cut the last support and observed as the bridge crumbled in on itself. Most of the debris was swept down the river. The ones that didn’t budge, Vir cut up further to dislodge them. Minutes later, all traces of the bridge ceased to be.
The Chitrans would have their work cut out restoring it, but that was a problem for a different day. For now, Vir focused on the present. His means were limited—not only could he not use Dance of the Shadow Demon, he’d be forced to fight efficiently, conserving every last drop of his body’s prana.
A difficult trial lay ahead. Perhaps the hardest of any he’d ever faced.
For this time, it wasn’t his own life that was at stake, but an entire city’s. People were depending on him to keep them safe. Men, women, and children.
Am I truly ready for this?
Vir didn’t feel like he was. Unfortunately, Fate wasn’t one to pay feelings any mind.
Vir glimpsed movement on the horizon to the south. Time had run out.
The horde had arrived.
27
RAY IN THE DARK (PART TWO)
Bolin snuck out of the orphanage, eyes darting for any sign of Janani as he ushered the others to follow.
“Quiet!” he hissed, silencing the whispers breaking out between Hiya and Ekta.
Janani had guided the children to the old storehouse where the rebels always had their talks. It was one of the few buildings in town both large enough and sturdy enough to stand up to an attack. But Bolin knew well that no structure could withstand an Ash Beast. Let alone a horde.
They’d be no safer in there than they would be out on the walls.
And on the walls, they’d get to see Neel, or rather, Vaak. A true Warrior of Ash. Fighting off an enemy that would ordinarily require an army to subdue. Alone.
It felt impossible. It felt like something out of a heroic tale. If Bolin knew anything about fights, it was that this one would be one to watch.
“I don’t know, Bolin,” Ekta whispered. “I’m scared. I-I think Janani will be worried and look for us!”
“It’s fine,” Bolin replied, waving off her concerns. “Neel will keep us safe. You worry too much.”
It didn’t take long to reach the southern wall. Bolin knew the city like the back of his hand, and could navigate its streets with his eyes closed. Still, while this was by no means their first foray to the walls, they hadn’t ventured this far in years.
The guards didn’t take kindly to their presence. Whenever they got too close, they’d be thrown out, usually with a painful lesson to dissuade them from trying again. They stopped coming after a few of those encounters.
It wasn’t so much the beatings that gave Bolin pause; he was used to it. He could handle suffering. It was watching Hiya, Ekta, and the others in pain that wrenched his heart open.
Ordinarily, Bolin would never have agreed to Hiya’s idea to sneak out. He’d never subject her to that pain again. This time, though, was different.
The ramparts were deserted.
“This doesn’t make any sense!” Ekta, youngest among them, said. “How is it that nobody’s here? Where are the guards?”
Bolin’s expression darkened. He found himself grinding his teeth. “Protecting the Keep, of course. Just like last time. We’re nothing to them, Ekta. Nothing.”
Ekta’s face fell. She knew he was right.
All their lives, the orphans had suffered under the Chitran’s thumb. They’d endured shopkeepers swatting their emaciated hands away, all while happily doling out fresh fruit to fat Warrior Calling kids. Kids who’d then smirk, taking a bite in front of them before tossing the rest to the ground, laughing as orphans desperately scrambled for the fruit before it became tainted with the grime of the road.
The orphans had dealt with hunger, mistreatment, and guards who heckled them for no reason other than sheer boredom.
Bolin ascended the stairs with the girls, dark thoughts coloring his mind. He couldn’t envision a world where the Chitran would ever protect them with their lives. There was only one person who would.
“Look! Over there!” Hiya shouted. They’d only just reached the ramparts, and she was pointing into the distance.
Great trees surrounded Samar Patag to the south, east, and west, but a clearing of a few hundred yards ringed the city in each direction.
Bolin strained his eyes, and when he finally saw what she had, he paled. There, somewhere inside the forest, was a wall of dust. A wall that grew steadily larger.
“That’s… Is that what I think it is?” Hiya asked.
“What else could it be?” Bolin said. “What else can kick up a dust cloud so large?”
The horde had arrived. And they were stampeding toward Samar Patag.
“But I thought they weren’t due for hours!” Hiya said, panic rising in her voice.
Bolin hardly heard her. His attention was elsewhere—fixated on the small, dark form that stood at the edge of the forest. Alone.
“It’s him,” Bolin whispered. “It’s really him!”
“Alone?” Ekta said. “Why, Bolin? He… He’s gonna die!”
“Shut up,” Bolin snapped. “Just watch.”
The cloud of dust grew larger and larger. But Vaak did not move. He did not tremble. He did not back away in fear.
Finally, the horde broke through the forest, and Bolin understood just how enormous the threat really was.
Bolin wanted to believe. He wanted to believe that Neel—that Vaak—could defeat them. Another, more sensible part of his mind, told him that Ekta was right.