TŪMBṂĀR awoke. He was the last to stir as the others moved about the hall, waiting for the giant to return. He propped himself on his legs, rubbing the scar on his neck. The pain in his chest had disappeared, and he was at the very least relieved of that. He walked on the now sealed floor, and made to Iḷēhaḥ, Feyūnhaḥ, and Nakthaḥm, who were seemingly at a loss what to do with the bolt.

“Has Sthūrthaṇār not come?” asked Tūmbṃār.

“No,” said Nakthaḥm, irritated, “it has been some many hours since we came to, and not a single word or sight of a magnificent entrance have we been graced with! What does he get by trying to elude us? I should hope that not all giants should be like him! Sending us for a desire that he will not come to obtain.”

The boy ignored his complaints, looking over to the maiden, who gently held the bolt. “Doesn’t the bolt hurt your hands, Iḷēhaḥ?”

She turned his way and shook her head. “Should it hurt? It has remained rather calm in my hands and merely glows unlike when you touched it.”

“Let Tūmbṃār handle it,” said Feyūnhaḥ. “Perhaps it will respond to his touch. He was the one who grabbed it first.”

“I should hope it does not hurt him! Will you take it, Tūmbṃār?”

“Of course, give it to me!”

As soon as she dropped it in his hands, Tūmbṃār could feel his hands sting and the bolt became more so like its excited self. The sparks that arced about stood his hair up on end. He grit his teeth as he held his arms stretched to keep the bolt as far as possible from his person.

“It worked!” said Feyūnhaḥ, happy over the development before looking to Tūmbṃār’s face. “Are you okay? It looks like you’re in pain.”

“Thanks for noticing!” said Tūmbṃār through his teeth.

The bolt then shot from his hand, sending blinding ripples of lightning through the hall. The dust lifted in the air and was sent flying through the upper passage straight to the light. And when it had disappeared, the group opened their eyes. In front stood the giant in form, holding onto the bolt. It did not show on his face, but he was well-pleased. He looked down to them and said:

At last! The day has come where my vengeance shall be had! Dearly do I wish to thank ye for acquiring my desire, for never did I think it possible that this day should come. What is it that ye desire as recompense?

They were glad at this, but Sanyhaḥmān seemed to harbor doubt. They huddled together and spoke in whispers among themselves.

“I don’t think we should let him have the aura bolt,” said Sanyhaḥmān to their surprise. “It’ll indeed cause much woe were he to injure Dusdrahaḥ.”

And Iḷēhaḥ burst into laughter when he said that. “You think he could injure him with that! The Gods may have weaknesses, but for Dusdrahaḥ himself to fall to a weapon of his own making is just laughable!”

“I am rather surprised at this,” said Nakthaḥm, “what makes you think Dusdrahaḥ shall be injured by his own weapon? Could he not just nullify it?”

“That’s where the problem lies—it’s been on my mind as of late,” Sanyhaḥmān said, now mulling over his thoughts. “There’s a story I heard long back, of the great monkey-king, whose name I share and who forcefully attended the banquet of the Gods and instigated a war with them having been slighted. It’s said that overpowered Dusdrahaḥ, wielding the bolt upon his staff along with all the soldiers and Celestials sent his way. I know of no other incident where a Ṃārhaḥn could overpower a god in such a way. Were it not for the intervention of Ishvhaḥṃār, Vshephaḥ, and Īrshevhaḥ, he could have surely killed him. I sometimes wonder why the latter have chosen not to usurp Dusdrahaḥ’s role, being much wiser and perhaps more powerful in many aspects, but I guess it’s not in their making to act as such.”

“That cannot surely be true!” said Aiṛth. “While I have had many revelations traveling with all of you, the tale you speak of sounds like many other such tales of the Gods being deceived and defeated. What makes you sure that this specific tale is true?”

He sighed and said, “Because he is still alive. Seemingly having been given immortality by them.”

There was silence now, and they looked to him wide-eyed.

“He too, carries a bolt of Dusdrahaḥ, and a magnificent staff. It’d be more accurate to say that I’m in search of him, so that I can find the location to the Vaisvyamhaḥ and, in due time, commence the divine banquet. But there are certain conditions I have to meet till such a time comes.”

“To what end, may I ask?” said Nakthaḥm. “You have still withheld from us why it is you seek it?”

“Though I am an outsider to this group, even I wish to know, for it intrigues me,” said Yūrmatṛtha, “but only if you should be willing to tell us? It would not be ill to lay your troubles on us and let us know what ails you. You have ever remained cheerful among us, but there was something amiss when you last spoke of this.”

He scratched his head and exhaled. “I seek it for the continuation of my kin.”

“What does that mean?” said Feyūnhaḥ, confused along with the others.

“It’s a long story that involves my progenitor name-sake, but I promise that I’ll relate of it when the time comes,” said Sanyhaḥmān with solemn face. “For now, I wish you to trust me.”

He then bowed to them.

Tūmbṃār lifted him and said to the others, “Well, if he really wants to prevent something bad to Dusdrahaḥ, why not let him? It can’t hurt.”

“’Tis not the problem,” said Iḷēhaḥ vexed, “he—like me—and the princess here seems to hide troubles of his own. I and perhaps Feyūnhaḥ wished to speak of such things when an opportune time presented itself, and no doubt Sanyhaḥmān is in the same position. But seeing how this bolt seems to cause him enough distress to ask us to let him take it away from the giant, it seems at least deserving of us to know the full extent of his reason for wanting to protect the King of the Gods—though I feel the concern unwarranted, the story of his being true or not.”

Tūmbṃār looked to him and asked, “Will you not tell us?”

He shook his head. “Perhaps when we have reached my village I shall say, but for now I wish you to trust me on this.”

“Regardless, we cannot let you take to aura bolt from him,” said Iḷēhaḥ. “There is likely an exit to these ruins but I would much rather leave here now and not continue any further seeing as how Yūrmatṛtha and Hvesykhiḥ will not guide us from here. I should think the giant is our only means out and risking angering him could prove even deadly to us.”

“Aye, we must part ways when the giant has been satisfied and I too agree that you best not anger him,” said Yūrmatṛtha.

Sanyhaḥmān thought for a bit and said, “Perhaps there’s another way around this. Allow me to converse with him. Perhaps I can have him make a promise that should be in all our interests.”

Iḷēhaḥ was still unsure of this. She looked to the others, who also looked rather hesitant, but Tūmbṃār out of all them, seemed to be the only one to seem to trust him. She sighed and said, “As long as you promise to not make him hand over the bolt, then we should be fine. What say all of you?”

“I trust the monkey. He did, after all, carry me through the desert, even if it was by dragging. Remind me when I should need to do that for you,” said Nakthaḥm with a grin, to Sanyhaḥmān’s annoyance.

“No objections from me,” said Feyūnhaḥ.

“If the goddess trusts you, then so shall I,” said Aiṛth.

“While I am not a part of this group, I too see no issue in it,” said Yūrmatṛtha.

Vrihkhaḥ nodded, as did Hvesykhiḥ.

And Tūmbṃār said, “We’re all in agreement! Go talk to him Sanyhaḥmān.”

The monkey-man bowed to them. “My gratitude to all of you!”