93: A New Dawn Breaks (Patreon)

“Wake up,” Princess Mina Hiranya commanded, standing with her one arm on her hip and her chest puffed out. From her haughty expression to her upturned chin, her every feature exuded an aura of overwhelming superiority.

Were a commoner to see her, they’d prostrate and grovel.

No trace of her scar remained, hidden by layers of makeup. Wooden limbs had replaced her disfigured ones, and while she hadn't gotten used to walking on a peg leg, she didn't need walking skills for what she was about to do.

The demon slowly opened his eyes. He said nothing, leveling a stare that made Mina take an unconscious half-step back, nearly falling over due to her peg leg.

The enormous chains that wrists his arms, neck, and ankles each weighed as much as a man, and yet they jingled lightly as he shifted his body to a lounging position, barely interfering with his motions. Thick, sturdy steel beams separated the demon from the princess and her cadre of knights and mejai.

“Too much gold,” the four-armed giant said from within his oversized dungeon cell, eyeing the half-dozen knights in full plate that ringed the princess. He paid the other six mejai that stood before him no mind. “‘Gaudy and hollow. That face you wear? Fake. That image you project? False. What are you, really?” the giant thundered, cracking his thick neck.

“Disregard his empty threats, princess,” a man said from beside Mina. A Mejai of Realms, and one of the finest in Hiranya. “The giant speaks grandly, but look at him. He has not a shred of power left.”

“Half giant,” the demon corrected. “True demon giants would never fit in your tiny halls.”

“Tall tales!” the Mejai of Realms replied.

Mina ignored the mejai. “You speak as if you know me, half giant. Yet we have never met.”

“Girl, after four hundred years, a demon learns a thing or two about wearing faces. Why have you roused me from my slumber? Speak.”

By all rights, Mina was the authority figure here. She was not the one bound in heavy chains, nor was she subdued by an obedience collar that suppressed her powers and shocked her when she misbehaved. She was the princess of this kingdom, surrounded by some of the most powerful mejai and warriors the kingdom had.

And yet, to all in the room, it felt as if it were the opposite. They felt like vassals prostrating before a god. The blue and gold tribal tattoos that covered every inch of the giant’s body only amplified the image. They spoke of an arcane power. A power lost to time, from an age long forgotten.

“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.”

“Oh. So 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 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 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 up, his head nearly hitting the ceiling.

“Ashborn? Speak. Now!”

It was not a request. It was an order. Mina found herself talking before she realized it.

“His name is Ekavir. A gray skinned, red-eyed demon. An Ashborn. We want you to kill him.”

The demon froze. Then 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 do 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.

“I believe you are mistaking something. You do not command me,” the demon said, walking hunched against the ceiling to the jail bars. 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 had. 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.

He kneeled on the sand beside the pond and 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 the 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 Legions mountain range, which ran north-south, bisecting the sliver of western Rani from its larger eastern half. He moved his finger farther south on 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 further 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.

And after that… what then?

That was where all the maps stopped. He’d be in a land where abominations like the Shadow Swarm were common. A land where every human who has tried to brave it has never come back. Without a map, and with no idea of where or how far he needed to go.

He could scarcely believe he was even considering it. Until recently, it may as well have been a myth to him. A place to be feared, but never something that would involve him directly. And now I’m thinking of going there. Voluntarily.

Not without a lot more information and preparation.

Vir circled the X in the sand around Zorin, just as Neel bounded up to him, tongue lolling.

“Well, it’ll be arduous, but at least we’ll have a cool breeze on our faces, won’t we, Neel?” he said, scratching his friend’s belly.

Having a destination was good, but it was only the beginning. A journey of 700 miles was out of reach with the supplies he had on hand. His water would last a few days, but Vir expected to find rivers as he traveled south. It wasn’t water that was the issue—it was food. While Bumpy could graze on the Ranian fields, Vir could not. Nor could Neel.

And the only civilization along the way were Daha or Brij. Daha was out of the question, and even Brij gave Vir pause, but he had no choice. He’d have to resupply there before continuing on.

“Alright boy! Let’s head out.”

With his waterskins filled, Vir mounted Bumpy and charted a course for Brij.

Fate, it seemed, wanted him to return to his village one last time. Vir doubted he’d ever see it again.