Ashborn Primordial

Chapter Ashborn 397: To Wrangle With Gods

It was with heavy steps that Vir stepped through the Ash Gate back to the Bairan camp, and from there, to his garrison in the outskirts of the Ash, where he’d left Ekat’Ma in the capable hands of Tara and Balagra to acclimatize.

“Vir, never once in my life have I heard of anyone with the ability to read the future,” Ashani said as they walked through the Gate to Vir’s Nexus, at his primary base in the Deep Ash. Its location alone made it unassailable—though over two dozen Gates were erected in two concentric rings, none needed any real defense. The prana would kill all who were stupid enough to enter.

“My people had probabilistic models and accurate forecasting of various events, yes, though even those marvels of magic failed with regularity,” Ashani said. “‘Twas something of a running joke among my people.”

“She prophesied my birth, Ashani,” Vir said. “She was the reason my mother died having me in the Ash. She was the reason I’m the Akh Nara.”

“Who can say?” Ashani asked. “No one knows how the Akh Nara’s cycle of reincarnation works. Perhaps you would have been born with that tattoo, regardless.”

“Perhaps,” Vir said. “But my gut tells me Greesha is right. She has never been wrong before.”

“Then what will you do?” Ashani asked. “Will you call off the rebellion?”

Vir sighed. “I don’t know. Prophecies are not so easily avoided, I’m afraid. It seems that no matter what I do, Samar Patag will burn.”

“I don’t know,” Vir said. Just a few words, and his entire world had been turned upside down. He almost wished Greesha hadn’t told him. At least then, he wouldn’t be burdened with a guilty conscience.

“That speech I gave?” Vir blurted suddenly. “Those demons I assuaged? Was it all a lie?” Was he doomed to live with the weight of this revelation, unable to lift a finger? What purpose did his blood, sweat, and tears serve now? What use was his peoples’ sacrifice?

Vir wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees and wail in frustration at the gods. He felt as though he’d aged a century.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve half a mind to release the army and let them go about their lives. If Samar Patag should burn, at least my Warriors can survive, right?”

Ashani stepped in front of Vir, blocking his way. She grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the eye. She said but three words. Three words that stopped Vir’s spiraling thoughts.

“This isn’t you.”

Vir opened his mouth to rebuke her, but no words came out. How could they? For she was right. Vir was being indecisive, acting without purpose. What kind of leader behaved that way? Normally, it would be Maiya to scold him… But Maiya wasn’t here.

“It seems I ought to thank Fate for giving me a goddess to steer me true,” Vir said with a chuckle.

Ashani smirked. “It would seem so.”

“You think we can win, Ashani?”

“Would I encourage you if I did not believe we could?”

“You don’t believe in Fate, then. You don’t believe there are beings who can influence it?”

Ashani’s smirk grew somewhat darker. “Oh, no, Vir. I fully believe such an entity exists. And I can happily say you have nothing to worry about.”

“Wish I shared your optimism…” Vir muttered, wondering what exactly made her so confident. Something tingled at the back of his mind. A half-recalled memory from long ago, but it was gone just as soon as it came, and Vir dismissed it.

“We should keep to ourselves,” he said tiredly. “I’ll consult Cirayus, of course. Just… there’s no point causing panic with the rest of the group. Morale is high right now, and justifiably so. It seems foolish to ruin it.”

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Ashani nodded in approval. “That’s what a leader should sound like.”

Vir smiled, but it was hollow. If Greesha’s prophecy was indeed true, it must have been the doing of these Fateweavers Maiya told him about. The beings that apparently controlled the Children of the Ash, guiding Fate itself somehow. Until now, Vir had dismissed the whole thing as the ludicrous ramblings of a deranged cult. He’d wondered if they’d started to corrupt Maiya’s thoughts. He wasn’t so sure anymore.

What were the chances Greesha received such a prophecy now, of all times? What were the chances it would pertain to his rebellion?

Vir soon realized his thoughts were running in circles, and there was but one person who could help him. “I need to speak with Cirayus.”

Cirayus listened silently as Vir narrated everything he’d learned, his face an expressionless mask the entire time. Vir had found the demon out on the field training the troops, and they’d walked over to a nearby storehouse.

“She said you will fail, did she?” Cirayus asked from his seat atop a wooden crate, stroking his beard as he did.

“Yes. She said she saw failure,” Vir replied.

“Did she say whose failure?”

“No,” Vir replied, frowning. “But—”

“And so?” Cirayus barked, an edge to his voice that Vir rarely ever saw. “What will you do, lad? Give up?”

“How can I honestly have hope for the future when an infallible prophecy hangs over our heads?” Vir fired back testily. “How can I delude myself?”

“Perhaps not,” Cirayus said. “Greesha’s prophecies always come true, yes, but seeing the future is always a tricky thing, mired in shadow and steeped in the arcane. She must have said so herself.”

“She did. Said that the details often elude her.”

“Aye. Details are missing, critical events invisible. Like viewing pieces of a painting, Greesha must fill in the rest with her own interpretation. She told you she saw a city ablaze. Did she say which city?”

Vir frowned. “No, but—”

“No, she did not. She saw death and tragedy, yet she did not specify from which clan. Most of all, she called out failure, yet she did not specify whose.”

Vir felt like he was about to have a headache. “I see your point, Cirayus, but I do not think Greesha would lie. She felt convinced it was our rebellion that would fail. If there was any doubt in her mind, she would have said so.”

“And I’ve no doubt she believed it herself. Greesha experiences intense emotions during her visions,” Cirayus said. “She feels the pain of the vanquished, and the pride of the victor.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Vir said slowly. “Still, I do not think there is any ambiguity here. Greesha said our rebellion would fail, and I think we must move forward believing that.”

“Then there is no hope for you, lad. Call off the invasion. Allow these poor sods to go home to their families.”

“I didn’t say I was giving up.”

“No, but you think it,” Cirayus said, holding a finger up to his head. “I can see it all over your face. I can smell it on you, like a thick miasma, worse than any cloud of Ash. Lad, I will tell you now—there is no better way to ensure you die than to go into a war expecting to fail. Were it just you storming the gates of Samar Patag alone, that would be one thing. What of the thousands you lead into battle? Will you sacrifice their lives because of an old woman’s interpretation of a prophecy?”

“Funny thing you say, Cirayus. What if I did go alone?”@@novelbin@@

Cirayus blinked, trying to ascertain if Vir was being serious. When he realized he was, the giant scowled. “Then you will surely die. I did not cross the Ash twice

Vir’s eyes widened. Cirayus had rarely, if ever, rebuked him like this. Not even when Vir had failed repeatedly in the Ash, struggling against all manner of powerful foe. For him to get this upset now…

Vir shook his head. “You’re right. I’m being a chal right now, aren’t I?”

Cirayus crossed his arms.

“We proceed as planned. I will hold on to the hope that Greesha’s interpretation was incorrect. We will take every precaution imaginable.”

“Lad. While it is true that Greesha’s prophecies always come true, you are the Akh Nara. If there is one being in this realm capable of thwarting Fate itself, it is you.”

“I shall pray to all the gods that you are right. Besides, it sure can’t hurt to have a goddess on our side, yeah?”

“No, lad,” Cirayus said, grinning. “No, it surely cannot. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a new sword to receive.”

Vir frowned. “A new sword? You can’t mean…”

“Aye. Sikandar. I’ve had it reforged! It should be ready at Camar Gadin. Would you like to accompany me there?”

“While that sounds wonderful, I will have to pass,” Vir said. “Too much to get done here.”

“Well then,” Cirayus said, cracking his knuckles. “I’ll be sure to give you a proper demonstration upon my return. Perhaps the two of us can go kill some hordes together, just like old times?”

Vir smiled. “I think I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

Vir was returning to his quarters when he was intercepted by a familiar face.

“Welcome back,” Tara said, falling in beside him. “Good trip?”

“Quite,” Vir said, summarizing the Iksana Trial, his trip to Camar Gadin, and his speech at Samar Patag.

“Half the realm in under a day,” Tara chuckled. “Unbelievable. With your airship, Ashani and her Gates, and your demon army—you really ought to see their progress, by the way—we’ll be unstoppable. I almost feel sorry for the Chits.”

“Unstoppable. Right.” Vir gave her the best smile he could muster.

“What’s wrong?” Tara asked.

Apparently not good enough to fool the Naga. Riyan would have admonished him.

“Nothing,” Vir said. “Nothing worth mentioning. You’re right. We possess nearly every advantage, and what we lack in numbers, we more than make up for with our unique advantages. With luck, the Chits won’t know what hit them until it’s too late. So… Any luck on that task I asked you about?”

“Yes. About that,” Tara said, her face losing all of her prior joviality. “We need to chat. I’m afraid you’re not going to like this.”