Page 23 of The Enduring Universe
Below him, the jungle was a ruined mess. Tree trunks lay haphazardly, smashed into chunks. Dust and earth ballooned everywhere, and rivers of mud cascaded like avalanches. Hills and valleys formed unnaturally, and wet earth snaked up Iravan’s nose even through his air shield. At one point, he saw a whole section of the jungle cut off, leading into a massive yawning crevasse so black that he could not fathom how deep it went. It appeared as though a gigantic creature had taken a bite out of the jungle, and Iravan shivered, his eyes scanning for movement and light within the torn landscape.
Despair curdled within him. The everpower burned his skin. He saw his failure in the utter stillness of this terrible jungle where life had been erased. His power scored his own body, the shards of his air shield inflicting pain, and he felt the planet shudder as if it could feel his intention. He would bury himself, and everything else in his rage and grief. It would not be a conscious decision. It would simply… be.
Light flickered in the depths of the dark green.
Iravan blinked.
He saw them. Archeologists of Irshar, looking miniscule from up where he was, but alive, walking one behind the other in singlefile. Amidst them he found the shape he had been looking for. He would recognize her anywhere, the bent of her body, the soft trudge that had memory of a lilting walk. His vision sharpened and he saw her face. Ahilya—in shock, and barely conscious, but unhurt. Alive.
Iravan made to fly down, to rescue her and the rest of them, and bring them back to Irshar with the everpower if he needed to. But his vision trembled, and within his constantly cycling Etherium, another voice spoke, Agni, then Bhaskar, then Mohini, his past lives overlaying one other in an awful echo.
She is corrupted, they said, their eyes glinting silver.She is sympathetic to the Virohi.
Iravan struggled against the voices, but it was as if his limbs were locked. He was imprisoned within his body, staring down at the line of archeologists, his wife at the front. The group had to traverse a dangerous jungle—it could take them days to return, and they could injure themselves. They could sicken of thirst and hunger, perhaps become lost. He spun the everpower, forcing it to respond to him, but his mind blazed with pain and Iravan retched.
And he knew.
He could not save her. He could not interfere. Not when doing so was against his capital desire. His past lives were right. She had supported the Virohi. If not for her, the cosmic creatures would be destroyed. In going to her now, he would be betraying all of his lives, his very consciousness.
A howl of anger and grief escaped him—but there was no one there to hear.
Return, Nidhirv/Jeevan/Bhaskar/Mohini/Askavetra and a dozen others commanded him, their bodies blazing in silver light, their eyes glinting.
Iravan diminished against their combined strength.
And obeyed.
16
AHILYA
They moved through the jungle in a blur. Eskayra kept a brutal pace, marching without break. Ahilya trudged behind her, then moved alongside her, trying to keep her attention only on the architects who would periodically break out in sudden tears. They seemed physically fine, yet they displayed none of their earlier alacrity. Several couldn’t be roused at all. Pari had to be carried on a makeshift stretcher, dragged through the forest floor. Chaiyya refused to walk, simply staring into nothing and weeping. It was only the mention of her children that made her blink and follow, her steps faltering.
Non-architects were faring no better. They had seemed to escape the fate of their architect friends, but two days into the march, Ranjeev complained of terrible headaches that brought him sinking to his knees, gasping for breath. Meena vomited all over herself, her skin breaking out in hives, and Teertha and Manogna, builders from Eskayra’s team, had to be asked the same question several times before a response was forthcoming, as if they had trouble hearing.
There was enough to be troubled by. The jungle had changed, and though they took the shortest path Eskayra could map, the devastation that Ahilya’s battle with Iravan had unleashed was everywhere.
Hills had arisen where once there had been none. Trees lay sunken across their path. Massive, gaping holes with water streaming down them created chasms they could not circumvent. Eskayra stopped often, consulting the paper maps she owned, muttering to herself before leading them on. Sometimes, she consulted with Ahilya, and though Ahilya tried to help, she knew it was fruitless.
The jungle was dense, and it was impossible to chart any sense of direction. Even before this destruction, Ahilya had needed the help of the Virohi to reach the city-site.
Ahilya tried to understand what had occurred. The jungle had been still, until the Moment had shattered. All this change was a result of that cataclysm. Or maybe this was the Virohi’s doing? Had she brought this about by letting the cosmic creatures escape Irshar? She attempted to speak with them, hunting for them within the mirrored chambers of her Etherium, but they were no longer there. They were silent, curled into a tight ball within her heart like they were nesting within the core tree. Nothing she said to revive them made a difference. She remembered that haunting image of them that had filled her mind after Iravan’s attack. Her own face, perforated and pocked, as though Iravan had attackedherconsciousness with his bomb. Her mind swam, and for Eskayra’s sake she tried to focus, but she had trouble thinking.
Eventually, Eskayra stopped consulting her. They traveled past landscapes they had not seen before, and though her friend did not say it, Ahilya knew that their earlier estimation of how soon they would return to the ashram had been a joke. Neitherof them could have known the scale of devastation the battle had unleashed.
Ahilya lost track of how many hours passed. The canopy of the jungle lifted, and they moved in a surreal dimness, unable to tell whether it was day or night. No one spoke, and the architects had to all be helped with water and waste.
At one point, Eskayra tied a rope around everyone’s waist, keeping them connected lest they lose an architect on the march. At another she passed around dry crackers, forcing everyone to eat. Ahilya’s mouth felt like bark but she swallowed the rice biscuits that tasted like sandpaper. One foot in front of another, it was all that mattered. The landscape echoed on, trees rippling, breaks in the sunlight, twilight descending. Ahilya blinked when a light caught her eyes—dawn? How many dawns had come and gone?
Eskayra had led them over a small hill. The expeditionary team huddled together, breathing hard.
“Rages,” Eskayra breathed, her voice coming out cracked. “What has happened here?”
Ahilya stared. Eskayra took her trembling hand in her own. Ahilya couldn’t think, exhausted with hunger, but the longer she stared, the more the dim shapes began to make sense.
Gigantic arms and legs frozen in shadow. Curving vines that looked like monstrous tentacles. Misty shades of smoke made solid. This was Irshar, but it was starkly different to the ashram she had left. Ahilya could barely comprehend it.
When they had left Irshar all those days ago, the ashram had spanned miles in the jungle, a flowing, beautiful city, with valleys, hills, orchards, and roads constructed with care and finesse—a refuge of civilization within the alien jungle. Now the city looked like a monstrous, leviathan creature frozen in pain.
