AS soon as morning came, the group packed and walked up the river. When it was much shallower and the flow calm, they climbed atop Vrihkhaḥ and made it to the other side with his great leap. Now he could not traverse the stone steps lined around the walls, and so with the others off his back, he leaped from the cliff and plunged into the pool. Then, he swam to the other side and sat in wait. The three who stood at the top looked down and saw the small ripples through the sliver of a gap in the mist. Feyūnhaḥ slid her foot across the first step, and it was thoroughly soaked.

“This would be an excellent time to use your powers unless you’re okay with slipping to your deaths.”

The two gulped. Feyūnhaḥ waved her hands and swiftly dashed down the steps. The water splashed about her feet, repelled by some force, and in a matter of moments, she was beside Vrihkhaḥ, and she waved back, calling to them.

Iḷēhaḥ and Tūmbṃār shouted in anger, telling her to get back, but she simply laughed. This became a rather dangerous test, for even though they had control over the elements, it was quite difficult to keep it active in small bursts. They had neglected to train honing the elements around themselves.

They slowly walked down the steps, using air to push the water off while also blocking the mist. It took them nearly an hour to scale it, and when they reached the bottom, they were exhausted.

“You two still have some work ahead of you. Had we the time, my brother would have taught this to you. With you two having little experience in honing the elements, it was more important that your offensive measures were as great as they could be. Might is more important than precision when enemies of great power are concerned. But with that said, I think it’s best you get used to it now. It should prove to ease your burdens in travel and teach you how to utilize your power better. ‘Fine precision of honing shall ensure greater mastery over the elements’, so it is said.”

Vrihkhaḥ feeling better, carried the two on his back. They passed through some glades before entering back into the forest as the descent became steady. The breeze from the ocean came through and cooled the air about them. Trees rustled, and the leaves crackled under their footsteps; palm and pine and even sandalwood were interspersed among the woods, and the sandalwood in particular released a pleasant aroma.

Many birds flew about and even settled on the wolf, unafraid of him. Vrihkhaḥ seemed to have little appetite for birds, though not much could be said for his other dietary habits. He was still choosing to eat away from the group.

It also drizzled a bit as rain clouds trailed toward the north, but the canopy blocked most of the rainfall. The sound of the droplets hitting against the leaves calmed them, and it made their rest all the more relaxing. A week’s worth of travel still lay beyond them, and it seemed there would be no end in sight to the trees, though they presented little problem with the path still visible. And all the while, the maiden dearly wished to go toward the ocean and see the waves.

With fifty leagues and seven days past, the group walked along the self-same path, and the scenery had hardly changed. They had camped many nights along it, and to either side, the trees slowly arching to cover up any crack or sliver between them. No animals could be heard, and all was silent. It was as if they were caged within, and only faint traces of light could pierce the canopy and illuminate what would have otherwise been a dark path. It would have made any person feel uneasy, though for the group—and particularly the boy—they had grown quite used to it.

The boy and maiden now felt prepared for whatever they were to face, having kept to their strict training regimen each night. Each grew stronger and increasingly adept at bending more potent streams of powers to their will. And as they journeyed through the day, they kept a steady stream of air encased around the tips of their toes and balls of their feet, only breaking it every other hour. Difficult it was to hold for the first few days, but they quickly became accustomed to it. With yet more training would they be able to expand it farther around their person and move it along with exact precision. Indeed it could help greatly in battle were they to master it, no more having to rely on luck when issuing their attacks.

The trees slowly released their arch, and sounds once again assaulted their ears. In the distance, there was a bright light. They hastened to it and when they had passed through, the forest ended, and in front of them was a large field with pockets of trees about. Though they could not be seen, Feyūnhaḥ could faintly hear the waves in the distance and her ears perked up in delight.

The grass was soft, and the breeze was cooler, but not chilling. The path curved about a large rock-laden hill and the group followed it down. Tall, erected stone pillars lined the path with much wear and no visible inscription, much like the gate at the beginning of their journey.

Feyūnhaḥ was relieved that Iḷēhaḥ did not stop to pay her respects to each one, thinking it still a foolish endeavor. In truth, she and Vrihkhaḥ felt uneasy. They could hear what sounded like voices in the air, unintelligible and strange, especially since it was the middle of the day. The princess and wolf kept watch for any suspicious actors.

“Tūmbṃār. Iḷēhaḥ. There’s something strange about this place; be alert and vigilant. My brother’s worries don’t seem unfounded here.”

The boy and maiden bore their weapons and walked carefully along. It was not long after that they reached the end and saw the cave before them, a circular opening, the roof of which was nearly forty feet high with two imposing statues standing beneath it on either side. They—like the statues at the entrance to Siḍhrehḷūr—donned the same sculpted armor and weapons, seemingly positioned in exact likeness. But now, they could see the qualities of the Autirsāh in them, two horns that shone through the helmets and three ears on either side of their heads.

The boy’s eyes grew wide, and he lowered his sword, amazed by the statues. “Iḷēhaḥ! Is this what you saw at the entrance?”

“Yes, very much like it! The ones at the entrance looked more like men than they did Autirsāh however. Perhaps these statues are linked in some way to the others. Their construction and wear look undoubtedly similar. But no matter, we should pay our respect.”

The boy and maiden folded their hands and sat on their knees, bending toward the statue’s feet and touching their heads to it. A large gust of wind then rushed through the opening, and the sound of shrill voices echoed their way. The entrance of the cave looked to grow larger now, the darkness inside seeming to expand and encompass their view.

Tūmbṃār and Iḷēhaḥ quickly backed away and quivered in front. Feyūnhaḥ drew her daggers, and Vrihkhaḥ whimpered. The princess’s body heated as sweat trailed down her face, her hands also shaking in both excitement and dread. Then all too quickly did the phenomena cease, and the surroundings become silent again. They let down their guards and relaxed, and the princess panted. Though it could be likened to a vision, it felt all too real to the group. They could not dismiss it either as a mere hallucination. Though the boy also shook, he smiled and was excited for what lay in there.

He turned to them, his eyes gleaming with spirit, and said, “Let’s go through, friends! I don’t sense any ill presence now nor the demon around here, and I can’t wait any longer to enter. I want to see what’s inside!”

Feyūnhaḥ relaxed and stroked the fur of the wolf. “Aye, we should enter now. There’s not much sense anymore in waiting. We’re fully prepared as is. Let’s be done with this!”

Iḷēhaḥ, Tūmbṃār, and Vrihkhaḥ nodded and they entered the cave.

Long and dark was the passage, and their footsteps echoed as drips of water falling from the ceiling unnerved them. The space was not something they could well accustom themselves to, and the eerie darkness that pervaded it did little to assuage their tension. Feyūnhaḥ lit their path using a lamp with one of the self-illuminating flowers. Tūmbṃār and Iḷēhaḥ were surprised it had not already died, but perhaps these flowers held a longer lifespan when cut. The path slowly descended, and they came across some steps and walked down slowly.

After some time, they came across a fork with two sets of entrances. The boy pointed right, and the maiden pointed left, and they bickered that each could sense something in one direction or the other. Vrihkhaḥ then picked up Tūmbṃār and put him on the left side, and Iḷēhaḥ nodded in approval. It was not long after they took that direction that the four of them could hear whispers and voices that made their skin prickle with unease.

The voices at first held a faint wisp of dissatisfaction by their tone, but they soon spoke with menace, Venture no farther; begone from these halls, ye who are unworthy!

Tūmbṃār still held a smile even though he was frightened. Iḷēhaḥ clung to Feyūnhaḥ in fear, but the princess—who was indeed uneasy—was not wholly afeared. Vrihkhaḥ, however, whimpered and hung his head down low near the boy.

Then the air became heavy, and the passage seemed to grow long. The boy held his hand out, noticing the strangeness, and it stretched into the horizon as if to be sucked into an abyss. The senses of the rest of the group also warped, and their pace slowed to a crawl. They were swaying from side to side, and the light of the flower could no longer be discerned. Their vision became black, and their eyes grew weak. But they could not fall and felt compelled to trudge forward. They crawled, and every step forward was like the world pulling them down through the surface, as if to drag them to the Hells. Hours passed like this, and they did not speak a word, only groans, and moans. To say a single word was just too much for them to do. And the voices became louder and angrier and shouted for them to turn back.

Tūmbṃār stopped, and looked forward to behold a thing like a giant man, its stature nearly as high as the ceiling, its body transparent like a window, and its shape deformed and warped by grotesque knots. Behind stood even more spectral entities standing just as high, and they all held expressions twisted by anger. The towering apparition picked Tūmbṃār up, and he quivered. He tried to grab onto it, but his hands fell through its arms. Then more of them flew forward and held the other three.

The one that held Tūmbṃār spoke in a sharp and commanding tone:

Why dost thou come here? Of what affliction could thou have suffered so, to tread so far these halls through which no other has pressed for many an age? Dost thou seek fame? Nay, riches? Nay, power? A divine armament rests within, and one wonders what business an Autirsāh, maiden, wolf, and boy have here. Dost thou wish to take it for thyself? To covet it in all its glory? Hah! A vain attempt, that it is! Not even the lord of such valor and might, Athruyam, may spirit it from us! We who were felled by it so long ago! The demon has done a great favor in keeping the Autirsāh from here! Thou think us to be illusions, but I say, we are very much real! Let it be known that the armament that shines as the ten thousand suns of Samiztrahaḥ, that radiates like the flames of Zayagñavhaḥ, and that carries within it the potent energy of the bolt of Dusdrahaḥ is ours alone and none shall have it! Perish, fools!

The mouths of the entities grew as long as they did wide. Feyūnhaḥ, Iḷēhaḥ, and Vrihkhaḥ had no strength left to resist. But Tūmbṃār could see a light past the specter. And the light looked like a man, one he had seen before, his face of death staring straight at him with a smile. He walked ahead into the darkness, beckoning the boy to come.

Tūmbṃār then felt a sharp surge of vigor from within him, and he lifted his arms and issued sharp gusts of wind that cut himself and the others behind them. They fell to the floor, and the entities became hazy, their visages no longer recognizable, and their voices all muddled. The four panted and coughed but quickly got up and took flight farther into the cave. The entities gave chase, but they could not keep up, eventually vanishing into the darkness, their voices no longer heard.

After running far from their initial position and with the entities no longer in sight, the group stopped, collapsing against the walls. They kept silent for a while, trying to catch their breath and calm themselves.

Iḷēhaḥ at last broke the silence. “What were they? Those ghastly apparitions are unlike anything I have ever seen. ’Tis almost like they were ghosts! Were those the visions your brother spoke of, Feyūnhaḥ?”

The princess turned her face to the maiden and mustered a weak voice. “I can’t say; they felt much too real for me to judge one way or the other. I wouldn’t be surprised were there to be more of them. I think this cave is more than just a place that holds the Dvhaḥṣhtro.”

“O forefathers, I pray we do not see any more within here! We should hurry and get the Dvhaḥṣhtro and be out quick. I wish not to linger here too long.”

“I don’t think that wish will be answered. We’ve walked for hours, and still no sign of the armament can be had. I can’t even sense any power other than ours within here. We’ll surely have to journey longer to find it.”

Vrihkhaḥ whimpered, and Iḷēhaḥ hung her head low. It did not seem that she would be seeing the ocean anytime soon.

The boy looked to his hands and turned them up and down, and closed them in and out. Though he could not see them under the dim light, he could feel the cuts across his hands and arms. He looked to the others and saw they too had them, but much more shallow. The maiden, seeing the boy, looked to herself. She asked him, “What is the matter Tūmbṃār? You need not mind our cuts, for you surely saved us, but you do not look so sure.”

“I sent out that gust, and it freed us, but I don’t understand how I could’ve done so. My strength felt sapped, and then suddenly, a rush of power came, and I released it as if commanded to do so. Though I’m thankful for it, it doesn’t feel I did it myself, and that frustrates me! I saw a man with hair of ash, eyes of blood, and skin that was death. He was there too at Athruyam’s dinner party, and terrifying to behold, but it didn’t seem anyone else could see him. He was also the one who made me speak that story then. It seemed he wanted me to come to him. But I’m afraid of going near; I feel he’ll spirit me away.”

Iḷēhaḥ was surprised. “You can hone the elements, you can talk to animals, and now you tell me you can see invisible persons! Never do you cease to surprise, child!” said Iḷēhaḥ.

She then stumbled toward Tūmbṃār and laid his head on her lap. “Though I do not jest in saying that. I believe you, but I have no answer as to who the man you saw could be, and I think you should not worry about your powers. It was not as if those powers did not already exist inside you; perhaps he just gave you the push you needed to release them. But enough of that. For now, rest. I fear we shall have to rely on you. This passage does not seem like it will end anytime soon. We should just hope that you can see that man again, for he appears to be a guide.”

The light on the lamp was dimming, and Feyūnhaḥ shook it—and at that very moment, it went out. “The flower also seems to have perished. I had hoped it would last longer.” She then perked her ears and continued, “I can still hear the breeze coming from the ocean behind me, but as we journey farther, the sound will vanish. Tūmbṃār, I too hope the man you speak of appears, even if he strikes fear in you. You’ll just have to bear him for now.”

Tūmbṃār closed his eyes and put his mind on happier things.