“O Gazhishrahaḥ, Ashphaḥhyēma—King of the Snakes, and He whose Army is without Possessions!” called Iḷēhaḥ. “I know of your feats in battle when you engaged in the War of the Five Brothers, on the side of Zūryaṃār—how the many horses you and your soldiers commanded on that day trampled across the battlefield and laid waste to many foes!”
“Ho! That much is known by thee! I had thought my participation a forgotten memory!” said the King as he laughed. Iḷēhaḥ tried hard to hide her displeasure in having to eulogize as she prostrated to him. He raised her and shook his head. “Continue, child, thou needst not give the details of my accomplishments; what request is it thou wishest to make of me?”
She cleared her throat and continued, “We have journeyed far across Trdsyṃhaḥ, seeking aid in our divine quest.”
She reached into Tūmbṃār’s bag and produced the Dvhaḥṣhtro before the King: its glow as potent as when they first came upon it. Often the light would recede and issue at varying intervals, but whenever Iḷēhaḥ or Tūmbṃār held it, never did the jewel cease in its radiance.
When its light reflected on the crystal dangling over the maiden’s forehead, the King took interest, and said, “What is it thou holdest, and what is it that flies from thine head?”
“’Tis the Dvhaḥṣhtro of Dusdrahaḥ, and what hangs from my head is the Crystal of Ascendence, said to have awakened Levāñyhaḥ, and was passed to me by the leader of the northern wolves, Hṛjvāpaden.”
Now the King’s gaze became sharp upon hearing those words and his smile turned solemn. He seemed to know what it was they had come seeking from him.
“So it is that ye come bearing that divine weapon: the Natjhṛsa, divine bolt of Dusdrahaḥ,” said the King. “And thou comest not only bearing that, but that crystal of which that divine agent so long before had bore. Though I had thought the ornament lost, whence she departed from the unified kingdom.” He shifted his gaze to the others and then looked up, shutting his eyes and breathing deeply. “Ye have been sent by the Dehaḥṃār, is that not right?”
Before the others could speak, Iḷēhaḥ said, “Yes, we have come on accord of their purposings; having divined that in less than twelve years’ time, the Yavhaḥṃār should invade Ārhmanhaḥ. We come seeking your aid along with the other Lords and Kings across the continents.”
“That is all?” asked the King, suspecting Iḷēhaḥ of hiding something. “That man seated beside thee is a demon, is he not?”
Iḷēhaḥ, flustered, immediately spoke, “My apologies! I had no intention of hiding his nature from you.”
Feyūnhaḥ and Aiṛth shuddered, for they worried that a similar result in Trdsyḷūr could come about. Tūmbṃār however, was nonchalant, having a large grin on his face as he rocked himself back and forth until the maiden hit him on the head again. Yet even should an unfavorable response arise, it was not wholly unexpected to them, for the Ṃārhaḥn, regardless of their pity, had their troubles with the Demons, no doubt due to their insatiable appetite and terror. And as such, no blame could be placed for holding greater suspicion regarding their quest. Yet what he said after surprised them all the more.
“We have a special relation with thy kind, but thou lookest rather young. Tell me, what is thy name? Do thou knowest of what I speak?”
“I am called Nakthaḥm, my lord, for I am One Who is of the Night, and indeed I am young; not even an age have I lived! But what might this special relation that you speak of be?” said the Demon with the self-same grin.
His demeanor among persons of interest never seemed to change, and this irked Iḷēhaḥ and gave more worry to the others. Nakthaḥm ignored their silent dissent.
“Our kind, unlike the other Daivhaḥhō, fought split between the Mānuzhhaḥn and the Yavhaḥṃār during the War of the Ṃārhaḥn. My forefathers did ally with thine own in that time, but what came after was most terrible for both sides. If having to slay our kin was enough for recompense, the Mānuzhhaḥn had wrought that detestable sacrifice!” he shouted in anger and bore his fangs.
The group could see that the other servants that stood by them seethed with rage as well, their tails shaking and rattling.
The King quickly calmed himself, and swayed his left hand up and down, calming the others in the room, and continued, “I do once again apologize, but our memory of such events has long persisted in us far from that age and I am afraid that it should not leave anytime soon. Cursed we may be to burden ourselves with such malice to those who are already long dead. It would seem, however, that ye know not of what it is I speak. We have time, so perhaps I shall relate of that event for well ye should know of this before I give my response.”
“It seems the King shall tell us a rather long tale,” said Nakthaḥm in a whisper to Iḷēhaḥ. “The same one you had planned to tell us. Fortunate we are indeed to be given this rather than madness cloaked in wrath. How things work out perfectly!”
Iḷēhaḥ clicked her tongue, being none the happier at this development. She felt it would be all the more difficult to secure his aid. And Tūmbṃār, though giddy over hearing another tale, felt as if he was to hear the same thing he had seen before.
