Without the bone dagger, he would cease to exist, and he dreaded the day when it decomposed into the earth, like all things that once lived.
Knowing it would be many, many years before that happened, didn’t quell the anxiety that his time was running out.
Why couldn’t that emotion have left him, instead of staying on like an unwelcome relative?
“Kill me, too, please,” came the elderly man’s raspy voice. “What is there for me to live for? You have killed my family. Why do you hesitate to kill me?”
Maayavi spared him a glance as he finished cleaning the bone dagger with water and then wiped it down with a cloth before wrapping it carefully in another. “Well, I needed your son’s body. And I needed your daughter-in-law to kill him with my dagger so I could transfer my soul into his body. She fought me and knew my secret, so she had to die.”
“And the baby…” Maayavi straightened and shrugged. “I forgot it was in the hut when I set fire to it, and I didn’t want to rescue him at the risk of burning my new body.” He nodded to himself, pleased he had lost none of his reasoning capabilities. These re-formations seemed to prune his emotions but left his mental faculties and magic intact, but it didn’t hurt to make sure.
He still had the rage, envy, and hatred that made him the way he was, but more importantly, he still had his purpose. Like a miser, he hoarded them.
“In a few days, you will die of hunger and thirst if I leave you here with no one to help you. You are no threat to me,” he said to the weeping, half-dead man on the ground.
The wizard’s gaze swept toward the horizon and the silhouette of the temple city nestled in the plain. Hopefullyyesterday’s use of magic had fulfilled what was required to reveal the hiding place of the key piece. Now, all Maayavi had to do was to get it. Thianvelli better provide what he asked of them.
But maybe he would wait a day or two to retrieve the key piece. After all, it wasn’t going anywhere.
None of those people in the temple city were even aware of the significance of the ritual with the idol and the three-river confluence. They thought it had to do with cleansing.
Over the years, those fools had even changed it slightly, building up the drama around the ritual, so the idol didn’t ever go to the bottom of the confluence. It was outrageous!
Without that significant event, the hidden place of the key piece wouldn’t be revealed.
“Then have pity on me and kill me,” came the defeated voice from behind.
Maayavi’s crouched to look at the elderly man closely. “What does pity feel like?”
Chapter 28: The Recuperation
Veer’s eyes opened. The palm-thatched roof swirled lazily in his eyes before steadying. An intense burn burrowed in his chest. It was unlike the burn of the healing stone; although, he felt the pain of that too.
But this fire was on the inside, like something was trapped there that didn’t allow him to breathe. He coughed violently.
He clawed at his chest, trying to free it. Immediately, his hands were held. He fought them. A cool hand touched his brow. He recognized the gentle touch of a calloused hand.
“Chandra.”
“Yes, it’s me.” Her face came into focus. Her smile radiated through the tears. “You are awake, I’m so glad.”
Was it her or him crying? he thought deliriously.
He tried to reassure her he was all right, but his body demanded rest, and he slipped into unconsciousness.
When he woke up again, Veer felt much better. Enough to sit up on his soft rush mat and take note of his surroundings. He was in the hut he shared with Chandra. Evening sunlight slanted through the bars of the window, lighting up the dust motes in the air.
Numerous shallow bowls with various crushed leaves and unguents lay spread around him. The air was thick with moisture from a steaming pot on the stove. An incense nearingits life smoked on the plinth before a small statue of Goddess Parvathi that his wife worshipped without fail.
An earthen pot of water was placed to one side of his mat. Seeing it brought thirst rushing back. He reached for it.
“I got it.” A hand reached past him. Chandra carefully filled a tumbler with water and handed it to him. He drank greedily, water running past his chin.
She was watching him like a hawk. Concern swirled in the amber depths of her eyes. He was unused to seeing it there. Especially when it was for him. He couldn’t decide how he felt about it.
“I won’t die,” he said. His voice sounded hoarse.
“I’m glad,” said another voice. Shota was leaning against the doorway.
