Kuvaja began preparations to travel south. The journey would require two or three weeks, even though the road leads directly to Daayata. Kuvaja has originally planned to travel alone with one or two swordsman. The basha [1], however, is quite generous and provided sixty men for his protection. Kuvaja would never complain, not even in secret. However, preparations for all the soldiers and equipment take much longer than preparations for a handful of men.
Working diligently to prepare, yet still fulfilling his duties, the time finally arrived for the trip to Daayata. Kuvaja was eager reach the city and speak to Rohana. The mystic sees very few travellers outside his human disciples. Many seek an audience, but very few are granted one. He had so many questions for the priest that he feared he would embarrass himself and bring dishonor to his basha [2].
As the caravan made their way to the southern gate, the basha himself came to wish them a safe journey.
“You have served me well these many years,” he said. “It is only fitting that you make a pilgrimage to Daayata.”
The basha smiled broadly and presented Kuvaja with a sword.
“May the gods protect you my faithful servant.”
Kuvaja bowed and accepted the gift. The blade was inscribed with the ancient script bearing the message, the Destroyer of Gnolls [3].
**********
The first few days of travel were uneventful. Kuvaja’s rhino kept a brisk pace just ahead of the caravan. In the quiet of the countryside, Kuvaja thought more and more about the curious scroll that made this trip necessary. The man requesting a copy had no distinguishing characteristics. He was not on a ban list. In fact, he requested copies of religious texts every three weeks. He was a steady customer that seemed to have quite an appetite for the Vedic hymns [4].
Yet on this day almost four months ago, he came in with a thin leather-bound book to copy. He paid his silver and requested a copy of the book’s first few pages. The raghu-veda [5] quickly produced the roll of rice paper for the patron and created a complete copy of the book in the librarian’s secret compartment. After the man left, Kuvaja eagerly retrieved the large roll of paper and read the first few lines.
It was the Hymn of Creation. This hymn, however, was not the traditional one that spoke of the Sun god bestowing light on the void. It did not speak of Khalu the destroyer creating the night. Instead it spoke of the Mpura, the great mind of the universe. The librarian was giddy with the discovery of this text. The ancient emperors banned the cult of Mpura centuries ago. Any scrolls associated with the cult were destroyed. Kuvaja mused to himself about how this unassuming man with a taste for Vedic hymns could have possibly acquired an ancient heretical text. As far as Kuvaja knew, the songs of Mpura had not been sung since the days before the empire. This book was a rare treasure indeed.
The text also described the Mpura as the one that created order and substance in the universe. Kuvaja had little success with translating large sections of the text. It was written in a very old and unfamiliar dialect. For many days, the librarian struggled to grasp it’s message. Kuvaja found that his need to understand the text grew to be insatiable. He mustered the courage to ask his basha for the time necessary to investigate this prize. The basha was happy to grant his request despite his lack of interest in a “mad religious poem”. He asked only that the librarian seek more magic treatises in Daayata. The basha implied that there would be a healthy reward for anything written by Rohana, himself. Kuvaja understood all too well that this was not a ‘request’ but a demand for something to justify the expense of parting with so many soldiers.
After the caravan traveled for two more days, it began to rain. Without the rain, the caravan would have reached Daayata by the next morning. The rain would make progress slower and invite bandits to attack the caravan. Kuvaja and the captain of the soldiers ordered the caravan to stay close together. The men drew their weapons. Kuvaja gave the sword to the captain of the soldiers. He had no real training with this type broad-bladed sword. The captain offered other weapons, but Kuvaja reassured him that there was no need. Presuming the librarian to be some kind of sorcerer, the captain did not question further.
The rain continued throughout the afternoon. As dusk approached, it became more difficult to see. The rain interfered with the soldiers’ magical devices that allowed them to see in the dark. Despite their numbers, the soldiers grew restless. The caravan painfully inched forward. The only sounds were the heavy fall of the rain and the rhinos feet sloshing through the water on the concrete road.
As the caravan came out of a turn in the road, Kuvaja heard a disembodied voice whisper “NOW.”
In one motion, he unwrapped the urumi from his waist and swung its three blades to full extension. He struck the lead gnoll while it was still in the air. It was dead before it hit the ground. As the other gnolls rushed in on his rhino, Kuvaja continued to whirl the blades to keep them at a distance. Some of the soldiers rushed to the front to help Kuvaja. Others soldiers desperately scanned the land on both sides of the road hoping to intercept any other marauders.
Kuvaja heard the shout “KA-HEE!” and tried to warn the captain of the soldiers. A huge ball of fire obliterated a cart near the front of the caravan. Five of the soldiers nearby were thrown from the road by the force of the blast. “ONI attack!” shouted the captain of the soldiers. As practiced, the soldiers shot a wave of arrows into the darkness hoping to hit the oni and prevent another attack.
Kuvaja dispatched two more gnolls before jumping back to the charred remains of the cart. “Why would the oni attack us? This doesn’t make sense,” he thought to himself. From the cart, he could see the soldiers were engaged with other gnolls or launching a volley of arrows. Peering into the darkness, Kuvaja heard the shout of “KA-HEE!” again and concentrated on the source of the sound. The oni managed to shout half the incantation but was unable to complete the spell. A ball of fire erupted near the end of the caravan not far from the road. “Attack the fire!” shouted Kuvaja and the oni was soon felled by a wave of arrows. The gnolls were growling about ogres and grunting to each other that they would arrive soon. Kuvaja peered again into the darkness and knew that the ogres would not fight. Once the oni was killed, they retreated back into the darkness to regroup.
Realizing that the ogres and oni were no longer fighting, the remaining gnolls leaped back into the darkness. Five of their comrades had fallen. One of the soldiers, a foreigner, had a sword to the throat of an injured gnoll on the ground. She was barking at it asking about the location of the others. The captain of the soldiers shoved her off the gnoll and ran the gnoll through.
“Gnolls recover from their wounds while they touch the ground. The only way to kill them is if they are in the air,” the captain shifted his gaze to look at Kuvaja, “or with this,” he said brandishing the sword. Looking back to the foreigner, he shouted to the rest of the soldiers, “Do not question a gnoll!” He took a breath and exhaled slowly into the cold rain. Looking to the soldiers, he spat, “Destroy them or let them flee.”
Eight of the soldiers were injured from the attack. Two of them died from their wounds shortly after the fighting stopped. The captain of the soldiers took cold consolation that his men would be buried in a city of priests. Kuvaja remounted his rhino and tried to regain a sense of calm. Listening to the sound of the falling rain, he took a deep breath and thought about meeting Rohana late tomorrow.
********************
The rain stopped later that night, so the caravan made camp. Kuvaja gave the soldiers a double portion of meat and asked the cook to make an Ekagra sauce with coconut milk. The spicy stew warmed the members of the caravan as the moon shone its eye from behind the clouds.
When the sun rose the next day, the caravan began again. The rest of the journey was uneventful and they arrived in Daayata late in the afternoon. The gates of the town were a welcome sight to the travellers. To Kuvaja’s surprise, Rohana stood atop the main gate talking with the guards. Already more than head-and-shoulders taller than the guards, Rohana appeared all the more impressive atop the high walls. He waved his trunk from side to side as he spoke. His hands rested on a war hammer that appeared larger than the guards. The hammer’s head was a thick as a man and ornately decorated with a scene from one of the later Vedic hymns. Kuvaja smiled in anticipation and led the caravan into Daayata.
Footnotes
- A basha is a wealthy landowner that serves as a patron for hundreds (even thousands) or individuals in Shayakandi society. He or she is a feudal lord that receives goods and services from those that use his land. This would include merchants and librarians, not just farmers.
- As a member of the Librarian social class, it would be considered childish and rude to pester someone with too many questions.
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- Vedic hymns are popular texts because of their value in mental discipline and raising consciousness.
- The raghu-veda is a magical device that produces a copy of any written material. It can produce copies of the entire text or selected portions of the text. Many librarians make secret copies of every new document visitors bring to have copied. All copies, regardless of the original, are produced on one long scroll of rice paper.
Stories in the Ether is a series of digital short stories and flash fiction that will be published in print and as a multi-format digital anthology in 2012. If you are interested in contributing to the project, please visit the Stories in the Ether submission page!
