“A FINE fine meal that was!” said the bear-king, belching and exhaling a stream of hot air. “Yes, but much better if there had been some meat,” said the demon, rubbing his full stomach in what looked to be a state of dissatisfaction.
“Do not complain too much on that,” said Zvarañt, “for while I would very much like to dine upon meat as is given to be my nature, given the disposition of the Mrigūhvha, they will not dine upon animals as a whole of whom they once were. Surely that is not only their will, but also the will of their progenitor, Vūragam.”
“Well, that’s better for me!” said Tūmbṃār, rubbing his teeth with a pick in a more joyful mood in respect to the others.
“Can you not eat meat, Tūmbṃār?” asked Bahṛigfar. “That is quite the surprise to me.”
Tūmbṃār shook his head. “My teacher forbid me from doing so, unless I had no other choice. I’ve eaten meat across our travels, and while I can’t deny it tasted good, I still didn’t very much like it.”
“I suppose I should not have expected any different, given how strict one’s adherence to practice must be,” said Bahṛigfar, laughing. “But there is a much more practical reason why we cannot eat meat.” He opened his mouth and pointed to his teeth, “All our teeth are quite dull and while we physically can digest it, eating it would be more than unpleasant for us; I myself would rather not spend chewing for some minutes or even hours on end.”
And Tūmbṃār laughed on thinking to himself of how the prince would spend his days doing just that unable to swallow.
“All right!” said Sanyhaḥmān, standing up and stretching, with his wagging tail. “the demon and I shall have to take our leave. We still very much want to walk around the city. Good luck on the training!” He waved his hand behind, not looking at Tūmbṃār, dragging Nakthaḥm who slumped in his chair looking a little sick, and the two vanished past the steps.
“I shall also be taking my leave,” said Zvarañt, standing and bowing; “if you have any need for assistance, I shall be at the palace. Good day to you two!” And he too vanished past the steps.
Now it was just Tūmbṃār and Bahṛigfar, and the boy had realized he did not know what to do for the rest of the day. The ladies were busy with Iḷēhaḥ’s Dvı̄sahlvah and he himself did not wish to train, seeing it futile to do anymore practice. He felt he needed rest and a way to calm his mind some more, but he could not come to a decision. He stretched out his legs to the table and rocked himself in the chair with his arms behind his head. The Mrigūhvha about them began to give them funny looks, and some shook their heads in disapproval.
Then Bahṛigfar patted Tūmbṃār’s shoulder and said, “Shall we go see the ship once more?”
Tūmbṃār’s ears perked up to that, and he gave him a confused look. “You want to go there, Bahṛigfar? What for? I’m sure neither you nor I would want to see the destroyed village.”
“And I think that is all the more reason we should venture there once more,” said Bahṛigfar seeming now more serious, but still holding a smile. “But the ship is the main thing I want to show you. I also think the forest should have swept away most of the rubble and perhaps cleaned up the ash. It should look like a regular clearing now even if the marks of violence and their deaths have still marred the site.”
The boy thought to himself for a bit, and then looking about himself seeing the slightly angry faces of the Mrigūhvha who cast glances his way, he said, “All right, let’s go!”
They walked along the trail of the western path, deep into the golden woods. It seemed strange to Tūmbṃār that the path seemed to abound with such vigor and joy, as if the incident of nearly a week before had not occurred. Any and all signs of being burnt had vanished.
The leaves glistened in the light and their slightly dewy surface condensed the droplets toward the edges dripping on both his and Bahṛigfar’s head. The stone surface was now clean, with all weeds having been seemingly plucked, and the grass being neatly cut and tapered to the height of the stones. The roots of the trees that jutted out at the side seemed like a small fence, variegated with flowers, not all unlike what the group had seen earlier in their travels through the forest. And what was even more unusual, was he could see between the trees toward vast clearings or sparsely populated woodland, as if the trees had once again shifted position (which they most likely had).
Continuing along the same path, keeping pace with one another and watching the sun that slowly descended in its arc, the land lowered, and they passed by the same streams, that now were filled with many lotuses and whose water was so pure and clean that they could drink from it (which Tūmbṃār himself could not help but do).
They continued past it for many leagues until at least reaching the clearing where they had fought the Demons. The high mound that was there had not returned, but the land looked clean, for the beaten earth was now fully covered in flowers and grass, where the petals were caught in the breeze and fluttered alongside the leaves.
“It would seem the trees are thanking us,” said Bahṛigfar.
“That it does,” said Tūmbṃār with a gentle smile.
The two of them spent sometime laying on the surface, enjoying the breeze and smells of the myriad flowers. This forest was indeed special, and Tūmbṃār silently wished to himself if only the rest of his journey could be this pleasant as it had been at its very beginning. No troubles or worries to be had. Yet a thought he had had on the meadows near the western side of Trdsyṃhaḥ, came once again to him, and he remembered to himself what that was.
He suddenly laughed upon realizing that.
“What is so funny, Tūmbṃār?” asked the prince, bewildered by his changed in mood.
“It’s nothing special, but I just remembered something I had thought to myself almost a year back—back when I had just started this journey.”
“Oh and what was that?” asked the prince.
“That ‘suffering and burden was—after all—much needed to truly appreciate the little moments as these that made journeys such a wonderful delight’,” said the boy, brimming with pride and realizing he remembered that thought word for word.
“Hah! Very much indeed,” said the prince laughing alongside Tūmbṃār.
When they had their rest, they made back into the woods waving to the trees behind them. The thin trails had widened and the stone path had replaced the dirt trail and they followed along it, past the swerving trees, the pure streams, and the branches of the banyans until at last reaching the village.
Just as Bahṛigfar had said, most of the rubble had been cleaned away, and the pieces that remained merged into the landscape as piled stones, with growing flowers and moss covering them. There were also many rings cut into the grass that had marked the locations of those that had fallen, and to his surprise, the Fiyukthi was burning and it seemed the trees delighted in this. But upon taking a closer look he could the fire within the bowl was not a regular flame, in fact it had the same haze and glow as the fire they alighted on that night, and as if compelled by some desire, Tūmbṃār approached the bowl and put his hand into the fire.
Bahṛigfar then tried to grab onto him but halted in his movement. He saw that Tūmbṃār’s face remained calm and that his hand did not burn. The fire was cool to the touch, and Tūmbṃār felt revitalized as the vigor of the flames coursed along the length of his body. He took a deep breath and exhaled. He took a step back and calling Bahṛigfar to his side, they folded their hands and silently gave their prayers.
They then walked past the Fiyukthi and on the far side of the clearing dwelt the massive ship. It looked like a mountain from where they stood, and its form of wood and stone and metal was something to marvel at. The grain of the wood melded into the stone and metal without seam and it looked as if they were of one component unseparated by form or nature. The great wings that looked like those of a hawk’s spread far and wide and shadowed all underneath its span, with the pieces that made its self resembling feathers as odd as that was to Tūmbṃār. And high above stood the main part that indeed looked like a temple, with its majestically sculpted forms, and the images of the Dehaḥṃār and Daivhaḥhō surrounding it on all sides as if bestowing it their protection.
The sun made the gold and silver upon it shine with a divine luster and the two stood transfixed with their heads locked to the pinnacle, where shined an orb of radiating light. Yet it was not terrible to behold like that of the Drasūvayeznd; indeed, its beauty was like that of a jewel, great and splendorous and unable to be marred should any foul thing come its way to assail it. If this ship should at some point fall in the future, that orb alone they knew would survive; even into the very depths of space of where none may recover nor again behold its luminous gaze.
“Let us make to the tower upon the ship,” said Bahṛigfar, cycling the air about himself and hovering. “There is still more to see on the inside.”
Then with an embarrassed face, Tūmbṃār said, “Would you mind carrying me up there? I can’t fly.”
Bahṛigfar gave a curious look and soon after burst into laughter. “For as much power as you have, I did not think you would lack in control.”
“It’s not my fault, I still need more practice. Besides isn’t it difficult to hover like that?”
“Only as difficult as you want it to be,” said Bahṛigfar with a grin.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you better straighten your mind if you want any of these more special abilities to come your way.”
And then the prince picked up Tūmbṃār like a distressed maiden, and flew high into the air while Tūmbṃār shouted at Bahṛigfar to carry him normally. He could not help but think at that moment when he carried Iḷēhaḥ, and he became all the more flustered and embarrassed.
Atop the deck, where there were much smaller structures that made the place seem like a small city, they stood a little bit aways from a massive circular gate lined with spiraling inscriptions in Ahasṭṛṭhaḥr. The rims were lined with gold and the entire gate was recessed into the form of the high temple-like tower. They walked on the stone path toward it, taking a close look at all the buildings along their way. Great forms of arching, cylindrical, and towering constructions of wood, stone, and metal, all having circular doors and connected by massive bridges above them.
If one were to look closely, it looked as if the structures layered atop one another giving rise to many levels of this small city, but not high enough so as to overshadow the main sight. And along the entire length, was there grass, trees, and many flowers, which was yet another oddity the boy noticed. Would not such things perish within the depths of space of where it was said that not even the four natural elements reigned? But Tūmbṃār did not press further on that point, thinking the Mrigūhvha had some special power or ability to allow such things to be managed. There were still many mysteries concerning the Daivhaḥhō, and Tūmbṃār relented that not all of them could possibly be known—not that he cared to know at that time.
Upon reaching the massive gate and gazing upward to see just how tall they stood, they heard a sound like a click. They shifted their gaze forward and saw that circular seams appeared within the door, almost to the exact height of them. And when they had fully formed, they recessed a section of the door, and rolling to the side they revealed a dimly lit space within. Though by what Tūmbṃār could see was haunting and eerie, the prince beside him reassured him all was right, and they walked through the opening.
What had before seemed dim and dark, was now wholly lit with brilliant lights lining the surface. The ceiling stretched high, and there were many paths set before them, ascending and descending, and crossing one another to various doors on the far ends of that hall. The lights glimmered like gold against the white surface, and at the end of the straight path, there stood two massive pillars holding an arch high above. Bahṛigfar had already decided on going there, and they went straight along the middle path to reach it, being careful in their footing, for the rails and the balustrades stood not very high.
Within this next hall, were many platforms all resting motionless yet it would not be long until they would come to life. The lights here shined with a silver hue, and a great light above seemed as like the sun, shining its rays upon all the pillars, platforms, and segments that connected them. Bahṛigfar and Tūmbṃār took to a platform that stood not far from the center, and with the prince holding his hand forward, the platform began to vibrate, illuminating itself with many colors. And not a moment too soon, did the platform fling up with great speed, holding itself steady against the invisible rails.
Unlike the lifts in the city’s tree, this one seemed to go slow, or perhaps the roof of the hall was just very high.
“Say Bahṛigfar,” said Tūmbṃār, “where’ll you go with these ships? I heard from Feyūnhaḥ and Sanyhaḥmān that the Daivhaḥhō will all end up leaving at some point soon. And thought it makes me sad, I wonder why it is that you have to leave to begin with. Is there some reason that you can’t stay?”
“From what I know, our time has come to an end upon this planet,” said Bahṛigfar with a sigh. “No more will the Foremother bear the numerous peoples of the land. It seems at some point in the distant past it was decided the Daivhaḥhō would eventually sail the stars upon the dawn of Annihilation, having come to such a resolution after that war of the Ṃārhaḥn. And I should think it would make sense, given the terrible things that are said to occur in that future time.
“But why it is we cannot bear such trials with you seems to have been on account of the grace of the Gods, who would grant us leave to either embark to their worlds or take domain in other places: ones they have said they would scout for us. And most likely it should be other planets that we will visit and eventually settle in, but I wonder how long the journey should take. It could well be many generations till we reach our destination and if so, by that time, I will have been long dead. To have to stay under such artificial constraints in the depths of space unnerves me, but I must attend to this duty, for it is the will of my parents and of the people. I shall ultimately have to lead them.”
“You do wish to leave this however right?” asked Tūmbṃār. “If it were in your power that is.”
And Bahṛigfar looked at him with a smile and said, “If it were so. But that power would not come just from me, but also from the people I would soon govern. So in effect, I should only leave if they all would give me the permission to do so, but that will not be the case, and nor should it be.” And now his face having become serious he said, “There are many things we must do in this world, Tūmbṃār, things that we do not yet know or perhaps understand, yet all the same important. They shall guide us to the destination that we seek, if followed with full commitment, and upon its end should we at last reach the place that we should call, home.”
“Home? Isn’t our home here, in Ārhmanhaḥ?” asked Tūmbṃār confused. Bahṛigfar gave a curious look and shook his head. Tūmbṃār continued, “I know that even should we go to the Heavens or the Hells, that we shan’t stay there long. When our dues have been paid, we’re supposed to come back here. And I suppose at the end, its to seek liberation, but I always thought that meant to be with the Earth, to not feel separate from her.”
“I thought the sage would have taught this to you,” said the prince surprised.
“He probably did, but I, being as I was as a child, didn’t pay much attention to his lectures (though I memorized the entirety of the Vādrunṃs),” Tūmbṃār said with a weak laugh.
It seemed he regretted having not spent more time listening to the sage, yet he knew in the back of his mind that the chance would present itself again, and when that time would come, he would do well to prod him as much as he could and in turn listen with directed attention, as was befitting a disciple.
“You still are a child,” said Bahṛigfar, laughing.
“Aye! And so are you!” said Tūmbṃār slapping him hard on his back.
“True, true, but as for your earlier doubt,” the prince said pointing up, “the destination we should be seeking is above the Earth and even the Gods themselves. You already know about Arhaḥṃār do you not?”
Tūmbṃār nodded. “I’ve heard it many many times, both from teacher, and the others, but understanding it is still far beyond me, as I’m sure it is for the others. I can’t help but see it as just another god. In fact, that’s the only way I feel I can understand it.”
“You and me both, Tūmbṃār,” said Bahṛigfar, laughing.
After having spent much time on that platform, they at last could see the light above grow brighter until it completely eclipsed their sight. And passing through that luminous region, the platform halted and their eyes adjusted. When they could once more see, they beheld a vast open grassland set before them where the blades were hued by the evening of the sun that washed the sky in red, yellow, and orange hues.
In the distance on all sides could they see the green dots that were trees, and making their way forward, they eventually came upon a lone one that looked to have been neatly planted near what looked to be a cliff. And when Tūmbṃār took a closer look at the fruits suspended from its bough his eyes lit with joy, and he suddenly jumped onto the trunk and began climbing quickly, all while Bahṛigfar laughed. Tūmbṃār hanging from the boughs snatched the pod-like casings, and chucked them down onto the prince, who quickly caught them in succession.
The boy after having collected enough jumped down, and started peeling away at the casing to reveal a deep brown fruit inside. “Tamarinds!” he said, and he quickly started tossing them in his mouth and chewing away at them. “Ah! so sour yet so sweet! I used to eat many of these from the trees in my village but teacher made me stop after I started getting consistently sick from stomach aches and the sour aftertaste. But these are so much better!”
“Well, I am glad you like it, friend!” said Bahṛigfar who likewise began eating the fruit en masse.
“Was this what you wanted to show me?” said Tūmbṃār with his mouth full.
The prince shook his head. “Not quite, but we shall see it soon enough. Let us eat some of these first though. I have become quite hungry.”
And so they continued to eat and delight it in its taste, but all the while things were silent about them. There was no rustling of the leaves or swaying of the grass, and it seemed at that moment that the environment, though very beautiful, looked somehow sterile to Tūmbṃār. And there were neither animals nor insects to be had, but he was sure they would come upon the ship’s completion.
“Is this what you meant by it looking artificial? I can’t hear any of the sounds about me, and it seems like everything is dead.”
“That is one part of it, yes, but the main reason lies above,” he said pointing up.
Tūmbṃār turned his gaze up, and he could faintly see a thin white lining that seemed to arch above, and following that lining, he saw more of them in the distance though they were even fainter. And he wondered to himself what that could be.
But Bahṛigfar would give him little time to think about, for he said, “Above us lies a grand barrier that covers the whole of this ship. It is what shall allow us to survive upon this vessel, yet at the expense of denying anything from the outside. It does indeed make sense to do so in the depths of space, for the natural elements do not exist in the form that they do so here, but it nevertheless feels like a cage above us.” He then sighed and continued, “There are some of us that can persist without the aid of those elements, and could walk or perhaps fly into the depths of space unharmed, but if only the rest of the people could do as such! Then we would have no need for the dome that shuts us in.”
“You won’t be stuck there forever,” said Tūmbṃār still chewing away at the tamarind, “I’m sure you’ll reach your new home in good time!”
“I should hope that is the case. It is not as if miracles are foreign to us, so perhaps such a thing could work in my favor,” said Bahṛigfar now smiling. “Let us put such talk behind us,” he said seeing that most of the tamarinds had been eaten up (mostly by Tūmbṃār), “there is still the matter of the sight that I wish you to see.”
Tūmbṃār nodded and stood up with the rest of the tamarinds held within his shirt. They walked through the shining grass soon reaching what was indeed a cliff, and walking along its side, they found a set of stairs that curled around the bend and merged into a stone path the led off the edge of their sight. And climbing down the steps and coming to its bottom, they now saw that the trees that looked like green dots from far away, were now as they once should be: towering giants of the landscape, with their outspread boughs and dangling branches and thick canopies.
They continued to walk onward for some time, now passing through the trees of where the eerie silence still held. The golden light that pervaded the forest outside was missing here, and the darkness that they had not seen for some time, had without notice intruded and left their surroundings as a black mass. The forms of the branches and the trunks and the roots and the vines and the stone could barely be discerned from one another, and this brought even further unease to Tūmbṃār. Yet Bahṛigfar held strong and it seemed he had already grown used to this, following to a strict trail that he must have memorized from sometime before, as the path snaked about the trees with the feeling of the stone changing from smooth to rough. The boy followed close behind him, trusting in his friend’s intuition.
It was not long that they should remain in there, for within a short time they saw the dim light in the distance that became more effulgent as they approached. And as they drew near, the light washed away to reveal a region of silver, green, and gold. The stone path merged into a self-same surface that descended as ramps far beneath them. But they did not need to reach its bottom, for at their current place, they could see the numerous estates and mansions, built from marble and lined with gold markings, floating about on suspended clouds. And below they could see the silver and gold of the structures upon the ship’s deck shine like the great jewels of the Heavens: the fourteen Grahelā, of whose luster not even the divine weapons could compare.
“What do you think, Tūmbṃār? Beautiful is it not? There are more of these in the interior of the ship, but not at all as grand as what you can see here.”
Tūmbṃār could only nod his head, for it felt to him as if he was once more atop the great world tree. Yet the small city below shined with greater brilliance than the city of the Mrigūhvha: golden light as far as the eye could see.
When they had finished reveling at the sight, they made their way down the ramp to a platform that was level with the floating buildings. And standing on it, a path of sparkling blue light appeared and trailed far off from them. Walking along it, they took a closer look at all the estates and mansions, seeing their many pillars, and tiered domes and in some cases their balconies, though from their spot, much of the upper portion was no doubt obstructed from view. Looking below, they could see more blue lit roads, connecting the arches and becoming as like a layered concentric grid, that seemed to connect all the structures to one another.
Upon reaching the end of their current road, they stood upon another lone platform, floating, and they could see the sun setting far in the horizon. And the white lines of the dome blended in with the fading rays like lined silver drops, slowly falling onto the trees.
They sat there for quite some time, as dusk came, and night fell, and the stars and moon were once more visible. And while they should have made their way to back to the city, Tūmbṃār felt at ease here. The trials that were to come tomorrow, were of now little importance.
He was glad to Bahṛigfar that he brought him here, for now he knew he would be able to face what was to come with the needed determination and resolve.
