That doubt evaporated the moment he saw the Kothi’s Chitran bloodline tattoos.
“Relax,” Vir said. “I’m not here to hurt you. Just… why are you running away from me? Have I wronged you in some way?”
The Kothi stood up, dusting off his robe. “I’m Chitran,” he said. His voice was higher-pitched than Vir expected.
Ah. Of course…
Vir fought the impulse to pinch his nose. “Look, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have issues with the Chitran. I imagine every Gargan does. But you need to understand that this does not mean I hate all Kothis.”
The skittish demon gave Vir a look of extreme suspicion. “But… You’re a rebel.”
“Yes, I did say as much. And yes, I am working to overthrow the Chitrans. I am not, however, trying to eradicate them, as they’ve tried so hard to do to the Gargans. I don’t even know you. How could I have anything against you?”
“You may not hate me, but did it occur to you that I might hate you? You’re Gargan.”
Vir shrugged. “Maybe you do, but I doubt that. Call it a hunch. Besides, I think we’ll have ample opportunity to learn more about that in the near future. When you come with me to Praya Parul.”
“P-Praya Parul?” The Kothi stiffened visibly, taking a half step back. “Surely, there are more suitable warriors?” he said, glancing nervously around. “I can’t fight, you know?”
“There are, and I know,” Vir said. “But I need someone to tend the Ash’va that will haul our gear. That’s you.”
The Kothi continued to looked around, and finding no one he could foist the responsibility to, finally gave up. He hung his head and nodded.
“As you wish.”
Vir set out with little fanfare, pausing only to announce his departure to the troops in hopes of procuring the weapons and armor they’d need to survive. He’d initially wanted to sneak away without making a scene, but Balagra convinced that their leader stealing away would demoralize the troops to the point of no return.
Vir was glad he’d listened. Rather than despair, many of the demons felt a sense of renewed vigor. That, if Vir succeeded in his mission, they’d have proof to bring back to the Chitran. Valuable spoils of war that might just allow them to be pardoned.
Given the dire supply situation, Vir took only the bare minimum for a three-day trip. They could stretch that if need be, but Vir was loath to take any more food and water than they absolutely had to. The prisoners would have a hard enough time as it was.
Riding alongside Vir was the Kothi Gunin and Malik’s lifelong enemy, Lagen. While they were odd company for such a mission, Vir had plans for them both, and he hoped to use this outing to advance that plan several steps. What’s more, they both boasted strong tattoos, even if only Lagen considered himself a warrior. Their powers would be crucial for defending themselves and their beasts of burden.
Lashed behind them were three more Ash’va—taken from the supply beasts and those the Chitran guards had ridden. They’d need every ounce of their hauling capacity if they wanted to bring back enough gear to outfit two hundred people.
“So, about Praya Parul…” Gunin said, breaking the weighty silence that weighed upon the group. “Has anyone been there?”
“If any of us have, it’d be you. That was your clan’s city, after all,” Lagen replied curtly. “So? Have you?”
“Not personally, no. Though, my father told me enough stories that I certainly feel like I have,” the Chitran replied. “I admit I’m a little excited to see it after all this time. Even despite the danger.”
“Then by all means, please regale us with stories of your wonderful city,” Lagen said, making no effort to hide his distaste for the Kothi.
“I’d hardly call it that,” Gunin said softly. “Praya Parul was an unsafe place decades before my people fled it. Many of our clan perished manning the walls. Defending the city against unending Ash Beast assaults.”
“You were hardly the only ones who lost good demons to the Ash. Still doesn’t give you the right to annihilate another clan,” Lagen said.
“No. No, I suppose it doesn’t,” Gunin replied, earning a look of surprise—and derision—from the red demon.
Vir remained silent. Cirayus had said that the Chits felt the effects of the encroaching Ash the most. That they spent an inordinate number of resources—more than any other clan—defending their vast border, even as it was slowly eroded away.
Just like Matali.
Vir knew all too well the sort of desperation and hopelessness such a slow, inevitable destruction could have on a people. It didn’t excuse what the Chits did. It certainly didn’t excuse Asuman’s mistreatment of the Gargans in Samar Patag. It did shed some light on how Garga’s downfall came to be, though, and Vir couldn’t help but wonder if things might’ve been different had his mother and father paid more attention to the Chitrans before events came to a head.
When the first opportunistic Ash Beast swooped in on the convoy, Gunin and Lagen had nearly soiled their pants. After Vir drove them away for the dozenth time, they barely even fazed his companions anymore.
“Never thought I’d look at one of those Ashen terrors with pity,” Lagen muttered under his breath.
“On that, we agree,” Gunin replied, nodding vigorously.
They’d both kept their voices low, to avoid being overheard by their leader. Unbeknownst to them, said leader possessed hearing far above those of any ordinary demon. Vir allowed a small smile to creep onto his face, which, of course, went unseen by either.
Vir’s good mood was swiftly vanquished when the soot-blackened ruins of Praya Parul’s walls came into view.
“What is this feeling?” Lagen said from behind him, shuddering.
“Death,” Vir replied. He didn’t need Prana Vision to inform him of the death trap that lurked within those walls.
The shrieking wails did plenty of that already.
49THE RUINS OF PRAYA PARUL
The world flashed white. Deafening thunder struck just paces away, leaving ringing ears and a sizzling, scorched earth behind. The sky had turned nearly black, and the Ash fell almost as heavily as it did in its namesake realm. All that was missing was the overwhelming prana of that blighted realm.
“I want you two to retreat to a safe distance,” Vir said in a tone that left no room for dissent.
“We’re not following you in?” Lagen asked. “Not like I want to run headlong into… whatever it is that’s in there, but, well… No demon should have to deal with those foes alone. No matter how strong they may be.”
Vir squeezed the demon’s shoulder. “Thank you. Truly. I’ll be alright. We can’t risk stray beasts attacking the Ash’va, and since my arts allow me to move quickly, I can ferry the armament to you. Just have them strapped and ready to go. I don’t want to linger in this place any longer than absolutely necessary.”
“That makes two of us. May Vera be with you, Neel,” Lagen said. Gunin nodded his sentiments, already marshaling the Ash’va away.
Vir had hoped the city wasn’t so far gone. It’d been a fool’s hope. With half the city enveloped by the shimmering Ash Boundary, the condition was dire, and certainly no place for Ash’va.
After seeing the two off, Vir turned his attention to infiltration. With no eyes on him any longer, there was no need to restrict his powers. Even so, he’d be lying if he said Praya Parul didn’t scare him just a bit. Logically, the beasts that lurked within wouldn’t hold a candle to the hordes he’d fought deep inside the Ash. Let alone the Wyrm he’d taken down with Ashani’s help.
And yet, as he gazed up at Praya Parul’s tall, sturdy walls—now stained black with Ash—he wondered just what lurked inside. That the city was such a trove of weapons and armor spoke to the chaos that must have ensued when its citizens fled. This was a place of death. More a mausoleum than a proper city.