Vir soon gave up on the details, opting instead to mark the general locations of each of the blue beams, along with a major landmark nearby.
By the time he was done, Vir could feel his body heaving with exertion.
While Vir was busy transcribing the map, Janak moved busily around the table. Almost frantically. A sound in the distance caused both of them to stare. Vir knew the sound well. It was the clawing and scratching of Ash Beasts out for blood.
Janak returned his attention to the table and touched his tablet. The red beams winked out of existence all at once. The blue beams dimmed and disappeared one by one.
By the time the last light—the light of Praya Parul’s chamber—faded, Janak had already gathered his things, stuffing them unceremoniously into a rucksack, and fled to a door on the other side of the room. Rather than afraid, Janak looked worried. Anxious. His eyes rested upon the table at the center of the room for a long moment, before he uttered a garbled command Vir couldn’t hear.
The lights turned red. The tables and work stations all began to descend, retracting into the ground. Within moments, no trace of Janak’s work remained. Including the table map.
Janak left through the far door. Right as the world went black.
54A CLOSE HAUL
“Hold! Hold, or by the gods, I will take your Kothi head myself!” Lagen barked, dealing a vicious blow to an Ash Wolf in mid-jump. Without the prana of the Ashen Realm to protect it, Lagen’s talwar cut deep into its soft belly. Such was the force of his blow that it redirected the animal’s momentum, sending it sprawling past Gunin, who stood with shaky legs and clattering teeth.
“Get a hold of yourself, Chit!” Lagen shouted. There was an edge to the Gargan’s voice—a sheen of deranged anger that no amount of self-control could suppress. Gunin shirked back from the pressure Lagen exuded, but then it was gone, with Lagen targeting his next opponent.
While the Gargan Bloodline Art Lionheart boosted his physical capabilities to monstrous degrees for a short time, it also robbed him of some degree of sanity. Complex thoughts became difficult, and if left unchecked, could even result in his total loss of control.
Control he was finding difficult to maintain, considering the demon who fought beside him.
In all his years, Lagen never once thought he would fight side by side with a Chitran. Back-to-back with the very chals who put his own clan into the ground. In fact, he planned to end the Kothi the moment Neel had left alone to Praya Parul.
Then he’d flee. With the collars no longer operational, and with his pick of Ash’va, there was no need to linger. He could escape to Panav and make a new life for himself. The Nagas had always been sympathetic to Gargan refugees, after all. Even with the collar around his neck, Lagen was confident he’d be allowed to stay there.
That had been the plan, right up until Ash Beasts swarmed them.
Lagen took a swipe at a Shredder, who jumped back in the nick of time. No longer deranged by the Ashen Realm, these foes fought intelligently. While Lagen was no stranger to combat, he certainly hadn’t expected such difficulty facing weakened beasts.
Difficulty, though, did not mean inability. Lagen roared and charged the beast, ignoring the swipes it took at his arms. With Braveheart active, it’d take more than a few attacks like that to hurt him. He felt emboldened. Stronger than he’d ever been.
A part of him knew it was not his own power that deserved the credit. Not entirely. Lagen ignored that part.
He hurled into the bipedal beast and took it down, smashing its face with the pommel of his sword. Perhaps not the ideal strategy, but it sure helped vent his anger. He had quite a bit of that, for it was only well after the creature breathed its last did Lagen rise, storming back to Gunin.
Just looking at the Kothi was nearly enough to set him off, and with Lionheart, Lagen wasn’t confident he could stop himself before he did something he regretted.
Releasing the ability, he took a deep breath, and addressed his newfound ally.
“How are you such a coward?” he asked.
“I’ve… always been this way,” Gunin replied, looking away ashamedly. “I’ve never had any talent for fighting.”
“Your clan just gave you those Bloodline Arts from an abundance of goodwill, did they?” Lagen spat. The Kothi was lying. He had to be.
“No,” Gunin replied, refusing to meet his gaze. “They threw me out because I was not worthy of them.”
Lagen paused. Growing up in Chitran-controlled Garga, Lagen had seen the brutality their kind were capable of inflicting.
They disowned him just for that? Lagen almost spoke the words aloud, catching himself at the last moment. What did it matter that his enemy led a difficult life? It changed nothing. It didn’t change the fact that his entire family was dead for no reason other than the Chitran’s selfish thirst for conquest.
It didn’t change what he needed to do now.
“We make a pretty good team, you know?” the insufferable Kothi said, eyes still averted. Lagen almost wanted to grab his face and force the Chit to look him in the eyes—his behavior was insufferable.
“Team?” Lagen said. “We are no team.”
“No, we are,” Gunin replied, shaking his head. “My Warlord’s Battlecry emboldens your own Lionheart, magnifying your strength and making the enemy more susceptible to panic. Did you see how the beasts hesitated? If I didn’t know better, I’d almost say they were meant to work together!”
Lagen wanted nothing more to refute the little Kothi, but something held his tongue.
“A-And my Warlord’s Domain,” Gunin continued, picking up steam. “It makes them move slower, and it makes you faster too! That makes their attacks weaker. And with your Braveheart doing the same, you’re several-fold stronger! It’s truly incredible!”
Gunin stopped abruptly, perhaps fearing he’d said too much.
Lagen neither acknowledged nor refuted the Kothi’s words. As much as it galled him, the Chitran’s Bloodline Arts had aided him in the battles. Though he’d never admit it, Lagen was unsure whether he would still be standing were it not for Gunin’s help.
Shrieks in the distance interrupted their conversation. Shrieks which could only mean one thing.
“Incredible enough to fight off those?” Lagen asked, pointing to the horde that had just appeared from the Ash Boundary.
Gunin gulped. “I suppose we shall find out.”
It wasn’t long before Gunin, Lagen, and their Ash’va were surrounded. Defending themselves was tough enough, but protecting the vulnerable beasts of burden? That was a lost cause.
“Cut it loose!” Lagen commanded, arriving too late to save an Ash’va from the lethal fangs of an Ash Biter, jumping away just in time to avoid being swarmed by its allies.
The poor beast of burden whined in pain as it fell, swiftly disappearing under the countless Ash Biters who rushed to rip into its flesh.
Its sounds stilled soon after.
Lagen and Gunin herded the remaining beasts into a tight circle—packing them in as close as they possibly could. The Ash’va, while terrified, seemed to understand that they were safer obeying, and were being as brave as anyone could ask. The rest was up to the warriors.
Warrior, rather. While Gunin’s powers certainly augmented his allies and suppressed his enemies’ strength, it was only Lagen who was capable of putting down their foes. No matter how strong he was, Lagen lacked movement arts of any kind, meaning he could only be at one place at one time.
It didn’t take long for their enemy to realize this weakness. After that, it was simply a matter of delaying the inevitable.