103. [COUNTERPOINT] Sleepless in Krongard

  Loha of the Reticent Tribe had always been a light sleeper.

  She’d been that way when she was a young nomad trekking across the Badlands with her Rakshasa family. She was that even after she’d become a Wayfarer, as she saw and conquered all that hell had to offer—its lowest lows and highest highs. And she was still a fussy insomniac now, as she lay upon a bed of Nether-kelp in her private chamber atop the Realmtree.

  Her eyelids were heavy, but so were the niggling worries that weighed on her mind. Tonight, the worries were winning, and by a comfortable margin at that. It was only a matter of time until all thought or possibility of sleep left her, long before the sun could rise upon a myrtle-green sky.

  Somewhere in the next leaf over, King Tyr let out a snore loud enough to disturb the ripples for miles around. While his wife tossed and turned, the Realm Immortal slept soundly in his giant hammock, without a care in the world over which he himself was the ruler.

  Loha sighed. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t the snoring that had caused the couple to sleep in separate rooms, but it certainly hadn’t helped matters. She also could’ve chosen any far-flung corner of Krongard if she’d wanted to avoid the snoring altogether, but she didn’t.

  Because now wasn’t the time to distance herself further from her husband. Because now, more than ever, she needed the king by her side and in her sights.

  Loha stood, then carefully folded her Nether-kelp bed, so as to keep in the moisture as much as possible. Given the recent events down in the Roots, a certain measure of austerity was in order—at least for the time being. At least until she could find another ‘well’ in which to stake her claim.

  Ever since she’d learned of Mully’s death, Loha had been in a rather nostalgic mood. And whenever nostalgia struck, she liked to share it with the one entity in Pretjord that wouldn’t judge her for her moments of weakness. To that end, she slipped on a fur shawl over her nightgown before heading outside, the better to gaze up at the night sky.

  The queen’s chamber—like all other rooms in the palace that had belonged to one royal member or another—had been constructed from several of the topmost leaves of the Realmtree’s Crown, folded together to form a near-spherical recess. This sphere had then been extended with a balcony of petrified sap, complete with scaffolding that rose a hundred feet from the nearest branch.

  For a thing that served such a simple function, it’d required a concerted feat of engineering, one Loha herself had blueprinted and supervised. It was also one of her very first gifts from Tyr Djofulsen, who’d spared no expense in his efforts to woo her some 381 years ago.

  She thought back on their unexpected and tumultuous courtship now, as she sat on her favorite balcony. Around her was only open autumn air, and above her only sky, centerpieced by the pale-jade face of the Pretjordian moon. The sight of the moon, along with the memories it summoned, made Loha break into a melancholic smile.

  The best lies were often half-truths, and one of the first lies she’d ever told Tyr—one that had yet to be exposed even after 381 years—had been that she loved this balcony for its moonside view. While that was half-true, the other half was that she’d just been so taken by his grand romantic gesture. She loved the balcony because it’d been the first and most tangible evidence that Tyr loved her.

  After all, even after having spent nearly all of her life as a Pretjordian, the core of Loha would always remain Narakite. And as a Rakshasa who’d survived and escaped the worst hell had to offer, she couldn’t imagine anything more romantic than a man who wanted to build a house with her.

  But that had been 381 years ago. A lot could and did happen in 381 years. And after all the heartbreaks and betrayals, all the rivals Loha had fought off, and all the children she and Tyr had outlived, their marriage was no longer what it once was. So much so, that if Tyr were to ask her the same question now, a half-lie might well end up being the whole truth.

  Presently, a gust of wind swept through and ruffled Krongard’s leaves, including the one attached to an ambered balcony. Loha tightened the shawl around herself, the better to fend off the bite of late autumn upon her aging skin.

  The seasons never ceased its churning, and soon, winter would be upon them. Another year. Another notch against Loha’s very much mortal lifespan.

  She’d kept the end at bay for so long, thanks to her endless hunting, gathering, stockpiling, trading, and scheming… but perhaps even that was about to come to an end. Age was quickly catching up to her, especially in the last decade or so, and with Mully gone, she no longer had the means to slow its charge.

  Perhaps this is the end of my Path, Loha thought as she shivered in the light of a pale-jade moon. And maybe… that’s not so bad. All journeys must end somewhere, even for a nomad who’d found herself a forever home…

  “I’d hoped you’d be up, Rakshasa. I knew you’re not one to take this lying down.”

  Loha froze, but only for a fraught second, before she turned slowly towards the voice. Even before she did, she knew exactly what she’d find.

  The intruder had chosen to remain hovering in the air rather than join Loha on the balcony. More accurately, it was their giant, levitating dog that did the hovering, while they themselves sat casually in their saddle. An angelic being clad from head to toe in radiant, lotus-white armor, with their face hidden entirely behind a veil of woven silk.

  [Designation: SUBLIMITY—Herald of the Righteous Chains]

  Immediately, Loha’s thoughts first turned to Tyr—specifically to the possibility that her husband had been made aware of the Deva’s arrival. As soon as she was able, she strained all of her concentration to read the ripples, using her pair of onyx horns as the sensor in lieu of fish scales.

  Even after 381 years, hers was a scuffed version of the ‘real thing’, nowhere near the range or precision of even a Yaksha youngling. On this occasion, she needed not have worried, for she soon heard the rumble of Tyr’s snoring with her perfectly functional ears.

  “Herald,” Loha managed stiffly as she got to her feet, bringing herself ‘eye’-level with the elliptical jewel that adorned the Deva’s helmet. Subconsciously, she wrapped her shawl even more tightly around herself, as if that could somehow lessen the sensation of having every atom of herself laid bare before an all-seer. After taking the briefest of Ksanas to compose herself, she continued, “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. I thought I’d made my feelings abundantly clear during our last meeting.”

  “You did,” Sublimity admitted easily, “and that fact might even be relevant to this discussion, were that you were capable of convincing yourself—let alone me—of your lies.”

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  Loha opened her mouth, but stopped short of uttering a retort. She couldn’t quite trust herself to speak—not when the Herald’s words rang a little too true for comfort.

  If Sublimity had grown impatient with Loha’s reticence, they didn’t (or couldn’t?) show it. They were, however, the first to speak again, maintaining their stock-still posture and neutral voice as they did.

  “I see you’re as stubborn as always. I say, are all you Rakshasa Wayfarers like this, or just the two I’ve had the misfortune of meeting? If you won’t agree to a direct offer, let me first ply you with small talk. Tell me, little queen, how fares your kingdom of late? It hasn’t been long since my last visit, but I take it much has changed in the intervening weeks?”

  Loha stiffened again. Her first instinct was to deflect and prevaricate, but unlike the secrets she kept within her heart, this lie would be too easy for a Deva and their flying dog to debunk. So, she did the only thing that would move things along, which was to tell the whole truth.

  “There’s been nothing but good news for the people of Pretjord. The rivers have returned to the Roots, and soon the wildlife should follow. Energized Rotgardians have already taken to the task of rebuilding their lives. In fact, it’s kicked up something of a ‘mining boom’, with even some Stamgardians willingly moving down in search of new opportunities. We up here in the Crown are just as ecstatic, of course. After all, strong Roots are the foundation to a healthy Realmtree.”

  Loha paused, then pushed her luck by adding:

  “That is to say, all is well, Herald. We Pretjordians can look after ourselves.”

  “An inspiring sentiment, and eloquently put,” Sublimity observed dryly. “In fact, you’re starting to sound a little like your braggart of a husband. I suppose it can’t be helped after centuries of an intimate and faithful partnership. Speaking of, how is the king? Rolling up his sleeves to join the restoration efforts, no doubt?”

  Lies and truths. There were times when even Loha herself wasn’t totally sure which was which.

  “Not exactly, no.” Loha made her pick. “Tyr and I did make one appearance in the Roots, where we—he—hosted a grand feast to ring in a new age for Rotgard. But a king ought to sit where he belongs… which is the throne. After all, an Immortal can’t be expected to rule a Realm from its lowest point. Would you not agree, Herald?”

  “Quite, quite,” Sublimity agreed easily. “Far be it for me to doubt King Tyr’s merits as a ruler. After all, he’s not called ‘the Great Pacifier’ for nothing. Isn’t that right, Rakshasa?”

  Loha made a conscious effort to keep her expression neutral. The autumn wind blew past her again, but for whatever reason, she no longer reacted to the cold.

  Across from Loha and utterly unruffled by the wind, Sublimity stared back with their jewel that might as well have been an eye. They allowed the silence to steep a moment longer, then went on.

  “The moon is beautiful tonight,” they said, without having once looked up at the sky. “Nights like tonight never fail to put me in a pensive mood. I ponder the churning of the seasons. I wonder about the clamor of souls and all that they’d leave behind once they’re Dust—and more that they take with them, never to be seeded again upon the soil of Mount Meru. Do you, little queen, never wonder the same?”

  Loha measured her words carefully. “My Path has been a long and winding one, but I’m… satisfied with where I’ve ended up. Some might say I’ve taken the easy way out, but I don’t see it that way. I’m proud of what I’d leave behind, and grateful for all that I’d take with me when I’m gone.”

  Loha paused, then tested her courage by adding:

  “That is to say, I have no regrets.”

  “Proud, are you?” Sublimity intoned, betraying none of the intent behind their words. “As proud as you are of what you’d built then left behind in Naraka, perhaps? Well, I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news, but that bit of your legacy has since been dismantled—or cleaned out from the inside, I should say. And not that long ago, I might add. You might’ve even met the individuals responsible.”

  Loha no longer felt the cold at all. Instead, a familiar fire smoldered inside the furnace that was her soul. It warmed her body with its brazen hunger and filled her heart with its blackened wrath.

  It wasn’t enough for you to take Mully from me and flaunt your youth in front of my husband. You also had to destroy the one monument to my journey through hell—the one thing to mark where it all started.

  Even in her rage, Loha didn’t fail to note that this piece of information had been absent from her last conversation with Sublimity—one that took place before she’d even known of the existence of a Serac Edin. She also saw the intent behind the omission, of course. The Deva fancied themselves a master manipulator, one who knew exactly which string to pull and when to pull it.

  Well, at least on this occasion, Loha was more than happy to be manipulated. Was she not entitled to enjoy the fruits of her labor—as much and for as long as she damn well pleased? Did she not have a gods-given right to protect and treasure her own legacy, without fear of theft, destruction, reprisal…

  … Or even death?

  Loha’s grip on her shawl loosened, and it fell soundlessly onto the ambered floor, exposing her bare shoulders and aging Rakshasa frame to the elements. Around her was open air, above her the pale-jade face of an all-seeing moon. And before her loomed the radiant figure of a god who wanted nothing more than to answer one soul’s zealous prayers.

  “Have we come to an understanding, then?”

  Loha nodded her understanding.

  In response, Sublimity wasted no time to move things along. They leaned forward in their saddle, grabbing their hound by the scruff of its neck and yanking it back with brutish force.

  The dog opened its jaws wide and coughed. Once, twice, thrice—until something solid and blinding bright fell out of its yawning maw. Sublimity caught it, then promptly handed it off to Loha, without so much as a word of warning.

  Loha didn’t even have the time to be offended by the thing’s bilious odor or its saliva-covered texture. Instead, she found herself fascinated by its appearance and riveted by its description. For it was the nascent bud of a lotus flower, one labeled by Pathsight as:

  [Designation: The Effervescent Lotus]

  [Item Class: Consumable]

  [Item Description: Some truths are learned, while others are broken up and chewed on, until it seeps into every fiber of a soul’s being. When consumed by a [Synthesis]-adept Wayfarer, the Effervescent Lotus imparts the core tenets of an existence unburdened by strife or struggle. Effects may vary depending on dosage and route of administration.]

  Loha knew not for how long she’d stood staring at the object in her hand, which even now dripped with bilious saliva that stained the granite of her HEARTHSTONE. When she finally managed to tear her eyes away, she saw that the gift-bearer’s attention too had drifted from her person.

  Sublimity remained leaning forward in their saddle, but now to stroke the dog’s head in tender apology and to whisper assurances into its ear. This was far and away the most emotion the Deva had ever shown in front of Loha, and their dog returned them in kind, craning its neck with a sort of whimpering forbearance. Theirs was a co-dependence of the most toxic kind—a cruel yet loving master and their helplessly needy steed.

  The sight of it made Loha’s skin crawl… at the same time as her heart ached in empathy. She could lie to her people, lie to her husband, and even try to lie to a god. But the one soul who always saw through her lies was herself.

  I’ve gotten this far by brushing off heartbreaks, fighting off rivals, and surviving my children, Loha thought, even as she set her new resolve in stone. What’s one heartbreak more? One rival more? And one—

  “Do you have a notion, little queen, of what you might cook up with that ingredient?” Sublimity suddenly spoke, still holding their hound in a possessive embrace. “You saw the trouble I went through to deliver it into your hands. I trust you won’t let it go to waste. After all, there’s no authority in all of Mount Meru to claim that a Rakshasa can’t be the Immortal to rule a Realm of Yakshas.”

  Patreon (27 advance chapters + lore/RPG wiki) or leaving a tip on . Every little bit goes a long way!

  Chapter 69 as [COUNTERPOINT] as well. Regardless of what the tag is, if you see a bracketed musical term in all-caps, you can expect that chapter to be a POV switch of some sort.