The Last Rudra

Amito was three years older than Diya. 

"A fine boy with too much curiosity." The smith had told Ishit one evening. 

"I had seen it coming long ago and warned Arvindo too. But he didn't listen.  For him, my advice and ding of my hammer are alike. " He went on, shaking his head. 

"Lomans are not folks you make friends with. You should just buy their spices and if you're a woman with roses in your cheeks then some trinkets, too. But never buy their tales or news they bring with them. Tales of mighty druids, druidess, and Glass Castle. They enchant you and lure you away from the soil you're made of, away from the protection of your motherland as they did to the boy, Amito."  The smith sighed as he narrated the boy's story, who had run away from his home. 

Amito, like any other boy of his age, loved the tales of Lomans ( traders who roamed through the realms, selling spices and other trinkets, and buying harvests from farmers.) 

Even the grievous news of wars with stone giants and trees were fascinating to him, not to speak of Princess Sia whose eyes could steal the soul of a beholder. The tales of valor of red-cloaked druids would boil his blood, while the stories of wise arch druids made him long for ancient archives of Avida where druids were trained.

The boy got so obsessed with the sorcerers that he would imitate their ways like talking to birds, reading clouds, and gazing at the stars, going as far as sitting all night out on the highest mound under the winter moon. 

Arvindo, who had become a father for the first time, also pumped up the boy's fantasy by calling him a little druid. 

Dhrita said it was not the lad's fault for getting so infatuated with sorcery. The magic of Avida was too powerful. It could coax its people from thousands of miles away. 

Anyway, It didn't matter whether it was Amito's longing to join the order of druids or the ancient magic of Avida. He disappeared from Lamia on the night of Yule ( a night when druids sit on an earthen mound till dawn). 

Arvindo, along with the villagers, searched all the valley and nearby villages too. However, he found no trace of the boy. 

Uma still sobbed in the dead of night, whispering prayers for her child's safe return. 

Diya, the silly girl, asked lomans each winter if they had met his brother somewhere. 

Amito reminded Ishit of himself. The day when he found out that he couldn't wield spirit. The dark night with no promise of dawn had engulfed his world. It was this suffocating gloom that had made him take the fatal risk. 

It didn't mean Ishit liked the boy's foolish action, at least not now after finding out what his own mother had gone through in the three years when he was in a coma. 

Uma, Amito's mother, was not different from his mother.  He had sensed the pain she was hiding in her heart. 

"Your soul might be yours, but your body is another matter."

****

From Dhrita, the only man who had ever left Lamia's cozy arm, Ishit learned he was in Glassia; of course, he had never heard of it, not even in Suta's tale. So the information helped him little in his cause. 

Glassia was ruled by Nirvano, an arch-druid, who lived in his Glass Castle in Avida. 

As for druids, Ishit reckoned from the little information he could get from the priest; they were like spirit-wielders of Varta. Of course, he was not completely sure, for druids seemed to have some unique powers he had never heard in Varta. 

Take the example of the strange healing art.  According to the priest, it was not just limited to curing ailments. A good healer could even heal death, forcing death- demoness to trade with something else, equally valuable to the dying man. Ishit doubted any Nimohis of Varta could pull off such a feat.

After seeing Ishit's uncanny mastery of the healing art, Dhrita encouraged him to go to Vasta, a nearby city where the priest himself had learned the art.

He gave him the medallion that would allow him to take an exam of the druids' shrine. 

Having no clue about his trial, Ishit didn't oppose the idea; Moreover, after realizing the art's power, he too wanted to learn it properly. 

So he decided to leave Lamia. But he didn't know how to break the news of his departure to the family.

During this short time, he had become the fourth missing member of the family. A son to Uma and a brother to Diya. As for Arvindo, his face, too, would brighten up after seeing him at the dinner table. The way he asked of his day reminded Ishit of his lord father. 

He didn't want to make the poor family go through the same thing they had experienced two years ago. 

But the problem got resolved on its own. However, the way it did had given Ishit a lifetime of regret. 

***

It was a moonless night. The sky was dripping as if shading tears at the death of stars and the moon. 

However, It didn't stop Ishit from going to his favourite spot to practice his spirit skills. 

Lamia was nestled between four grass carpeted hills. The villagers had given them names as they usually did to everything they owned, from farms to cattle. The hill Ishit was standing on was called Kubri's mound. Ishit had chosen it for two reasons, 

First, it had a grove of trees giving him a natural shield. Second, it was quite far from the village, lowering the risk of someone accidentally spotting him wielding the spirit. 

Ishit was experimenting with his new insight about spirit senses when he heard unusual sounds.  Sound of footsteps, too many footsteps shuffling in the dark.

The strong spirit ripples in the air. 

Ishit activated his senses to their full capacity and looked in the direction of the sea. What he saw froze him on the spot. 

The dark shadows with glowing red eyes were coming towards Lamia.

Ishit broke out in a cold sweat seeing so many defilers. He recalled the conversation he overheard on the beach between the defiler and Millian.

So, they were talking about invading Glassia. 

The thought sent a shudder through his body. 

Then was he supposed to defend the empire?

  If it was true, Bhadra must have lost his mind. Ishit cursed the fowler again for not telling him anything about the damn trial. The only thing that had stopped Ishit from dripping his blood on the emblem was the fowler's warning, "Don't trust anyone, not even your thoughts."

Ishit shook his head. It was not the time to think about what was his trial about.

He should alert people. He knew it wouldn't change their fate. It was something he could do. 

So he dashed off towards the sleeping village. 

However, as soon as he entered the village, he realized the difficulty of his task. No one would believe him if he rapped on their death and told them that defilers were coming.

They would ask him what he was doing in the middle of the night on the hill.

Ishit's brain throbbed as he pondered the problem. The ripples were growing stronger. 

There wasn't much time left when the defiler would be here. Then he would have to run for his own life. 

Standing on the temple roof,  the tallest building in the village, he looked on the village lying in silence as if it was waiting for its doom, holding its breath. 

A thought suddenly struck his mind. His eyes glowed with determination. It was wild thought but the only feasible way he could think of at the moment. 

Ishit condensed a fireball and threw it at the chapel setting it on fire. With it,  he started a frenzied bombardment of fireballs on the houses. 

Soon the cries and shouts filled the village as the people fled for their lives.

They picked up their wailing children and ran out of the village,  away from the hungry fire that was greedily devouring their houses. Surprisingly cattle had already fled from their sheds. 

Of course, they didn't notice it until they were out of the village, which was burning like a large bonfire.

And when they thought they had escaped the inferno, a hooded figure flew out of the fire. His eyes glowing blue, and two bright fireballs burning in his hands. 

Ishit glanced at the scared crowd, pooled together before him. They were looking at him like he was a monster. 

"You have five minutes to flee for your lives; after that, I Ashura will start his hunt. So run now. " Ishit thundered; he had modified his voice.  For effect, he threw a fireball on the nearby tree that turned into ashes in a blink. 

But none moved. The villagers looked towards each other, and a loud murmured ran through the crowd. 

What the hell were they discussing now? 

Dhrita coughed bitterly. Ishit noticed his long goatee had burned away. So were his clothes. Ishit felt guilty, but he had to do it. The defiler must have noticed the great fire. He hoped it would delay them a bit more. 

"Have you not heard what this master of All evils said? "Ishit thundered again, seeing none of them in the mood of fleeing. 

Did they not want to live anymore because he had burned their houses? Ishit wondered.

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