ashed and she can lay no more, but she bears within her body the
burning power of the sea-glow."
"And you think she would aid me?"
"She would aid no other. She is the last of her kind. She will only
assist a peer."
"Then know that the one who was known as Durga now wears the body of
Brahma, chief among our enemies."
"Yes, which makes both of you men. She might have taken the other side,
had Kali remained a woman. But she has committed herself now. You were her
choice."
"That helps to even things a bit."
"The Rakasha herd elephants and slizzards and great cats at this time,
to drive against our enemies."
"Good."
"And they summon fire elementals."
"Very good."
"Dalissa is near here now. She will wait at the bottom of the river, to
rise up when she is needed."
"Say hello to her for me," said Sam, turning to re-enter his tent.
"I will."
He dropped the flap behind him.
When the God of Death came down out of the sky onto the plains beside
the Vedra, Taraka of the Rakasha set upon him in the form of a great cat out
of Kaniburrha.
But immediately he fell back. The demon repellant lay upon Yama, and
Taraka could not close with him because of it.
The Rakasha swirled away, dropping the cat form he had assumed, to
become a whirlwind of silver motes.
"Deathgod!" the word exploded in Yama's head. "Remember Hellwell?"
Immediately, rocks and stones and sandy soil were sucked up into the
vortex and hurled across the air toward Yama, who swirled his cloak and
muffled his eyes with its hem, but did not otherwise stir.
After a time, the fury died.
Yama had not moved. The ground about him was strewn with debris, but
none lay near him.
Yama lowered his cloak and glared into the whirlwind.
"What sorcery is this?" came the words. "How is it you manage to
stand?"
Yama continued to stare at Taraka. "How is it you manage to swirl?" he
asked.
"I am greatest among the Rakasha. I bore your death-gaze before."
"And I am greatest among the gods. I stood against your entire legion
at Hellwell."
"You are a lackey to Trimurti."
"You are wrong. I have come here to fight against Heaven, in this
place, in the name of Accelerationism. Great is my hatred, and I have
brought weapons to be used against Trimurti."
"Then I suppose I must forego the pleasure of continuing our combat at
this time . . ."
"I should deem it advisable."
"And you doubtless wish to be taken to our leader?"
"I can find my own way."
"Then, until we meet again. Lord Yama. . ."
"Good-bye, Rakasha."
Taraka shot like a burning arrow into the heavens and was gone from
sight.
Some say that Yama had solved his case as he stood there in the great
birdcage, amidst the darkness and the droppings. Others say that he
duplicated Kubera's reasoning a short while later, using the tapes in the
Vasty Hall of Death. Whichever it was, when he entered the tent on the
plains by the Vedra he greeted the man inside with the name Sam. This man
laid his hand upon his blade and faced him.
"Death, you precede the battle," he said.
"There has been a change," Yama replied.
"What sort of change?"
"Position. I have come here to oppose the will of Heaven."
"In what way?"
"Steel. Fire. Blood."
"Why this change?"
"Divorces are made in Heaven. And betrayals. And shamings. The lady has
gone too far, and I know now the reason, Lord Kalkin. I neither embrace your
Accelerationism nor do I reject it. Its only mattering to me is that it
represents the one force in the world to oppose Heaven. I will join you,
with this understanding, if you will accept my blade."
"I accept your blade. Lord Yama."
"And I will raise it against any of the heavenly horde-- saving only
Brahma himself, whom I will not face."
"Agreed."
"Then permit me to serve as your charioteer."
"I would, only I have no chariot of battle."
"I brought one, a very special one. For a long time have I labored upon
it, and it is not yet complete. But it will suffice. I must assemble it this
night, however, for the battle will commence tomorrow at dawn."
"I have felt that it might. The Rakasha have warned me as to the
movement of troops near here."
"Yes, I saw them as I passed overhead. The main attack should come from
the northeast, across the plains. The gods will join in later. But there
will doubtless be parties coming from all directions, including up the
river."
"We control the river. Dalissa of the Glow waits at its bottom. When
the time comes, she can raise up mighty waves, making it to boil and
overflow its banks."
"I had thought the Glow extinguished!"
"Save for her, it is. She is the last."
"I take it the Rakasha will be fighting with us?"
"Yes, and others . . ."
"What others?"
"I have accepted assistance-- bodies without minds-- a war party of
such-- from Lord Nirriti."
Yama's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.
"This is not good, Siddhartha. Sooner or later, he will have to be
destroyed, and it is not good to be in the debt of such a one."
"I know that, Yama, but I am desperate. They arrive tonight . . ."
"If we win, Siddhartha, toppling the Celestial City, breaking the old
religion, freeing man for industrial progress, still will there be
opposition. Nirriti, who has waited all these centuries for the passing of
the gods, will then have to be fought and beaten himself. It will either be
this or the same thing all over again -- and at least the Gods of the City
have some measure of grace in their unfair doings."
"I think he would have come to our assistance whether invited or not."
"Yes, but by inviting him, or accepting his offer, you owe him this
thing."
"Then I will have to deal with that situation when it arises."
"That's politics, I guess. But I like it not."
Sam poured them of the sweet dark wine of Keenset. "I think Kubera
would like to see you later," he said, offering a goblet.
"What is he doing?" asked Yama, accepting it and draining it off in a
single swallow.
"Drilling troops and giving classes on the internal combustion engine
to all the local savants," said Sam. "Even if we lose, some may live and go
elsewhere."
"If it is to be put to any use, they will need to know more than engine
design . . ."
"He's been talking himself hoarse for days, and the scribes are taking
it all down-- geology, mining, metallurgy, petroleum chemistry . . ."
"Had we more time, I would give my assistance. As it is, if ten per
cent is retained it may be sufficient. Not tomorrow, or even the next day,
but. . ."
Sam finished his wine, refilled the goblets. "To the morrow,
charioteer!"
"To the blood. Binder, to the blood and the killing!"
"Some of the blood may be our own, deathgod. But so long as we take
sufficient of the enemy with us. . ."
"I cannot die, Siddhartha, save by my own choosing."
"How can that be, Lord Yama?"
"Let Death keep his own small secrets. Binder. For I may choose not to
exercise my option in this battle."
"As you would, Lord."
"To your health and long life!"
"To yours."
The day of the battle dawned pink as the fresh-bitten thigh of a
maiden.
A small mist drifted in from the river. The Bridge of the Gods
glistened all of gold in the east, reached back, darkening, into retreating
night, divided the heavens like a burning equator.
The warriors of Keenset waited outside the city, upon the plain by the
Vedra. Five thousand men, with blades and bows, pikes and slings, waited for
the battle. A thousand zombies stood in the front ranks, led by the living
sergeants of the Black One, who guided all their movements by the drum,
scarves of black silk curling in the breeze like snakes of smoke upon their
helms.
Five hundred lancers were held to the rear. The silver cyclones that
were the Rakasha hung in the middle air. Across the half-lit world the
occasional growl of a jungle beast could be heard. Fire elementals glowed
upon tree limb, lance and pennon pole.
There were no clouds in the heavens. The grasses of the plain were
still moist and sparkling. The air was cool, the ground still soft enough to
gather footprints readily. Gray and green and yellow were the colors that
smote the eye beneath the heavens; and the Vedra swirled within its banks,
gathering leaves from its escort of trees. It is said that each day
recapitulates the history of the world, coming up out of darkness and cold
into confused light and beginning warmth, consciousness blinking its eyes
somewhere in midmorning, awakening thoughts a jumble of illogic and
unattached emotion, and all speeding together toward the order of noontide,
the slow, poignant decline of dusk, the mystical vision of twilight, the end
of entropy that is night once more.
The day began.
A dark line was visible at the far end of the field. A trumpet note cut
the air and that line advanced.
Sam stood in his battle chariot at the head of the formation, wearing
burnished armor and holding a long, gray lance of death. He heard the words
of Death, who wore red and was his charioteer:
"Their first wave is of slizzard cavalry."
Sam squinted at the distant line.
"It is," said his charioteer.
"Very well."
He gestured with his lance, and the Rakasha moved forward like a tidal
wave of white light. The zombies began their advance.
When the white wave and the dark line came together there was a
confusion of voices, hisses and the rattle of arms.
The dark line halted, great gouts of dust fuming above it.
Then came the sounds of the aroused jungle as the gathered beasts of
prey were driven upon the flank of the enemy.
The zombies marched to a slow, steady drumbeat, and the fire elementals
flowed on before them and the grasses withered where they passed.
Sam nodded to Death, and his chariot moved slowly forward, riding upon
its cushion of air. At his back, the army of Keenset stirred. Lord Kubera
slept, drugged to the sleep that is like unto death, in a hidden vault
beneath the city. The Lady Ratri mounted a black mare at the rear of the
lancers' formation.
"Their charge has been broken," said Death.
"Yes."
"All their cavalry was cast down and the beasts still rage among them.
They have not yet reformed their ranks. The Rakasha hurl avalanches like
rain from the heavens down upon their heads. Now there comes the flow of
fire."
"Yes."
"We will destroy them. Even now they see the mindless minions of
Nirriti coming upon them as a single man, all in step and without fear,
their drums keeping time, perfect and agonizing, and nothing behind their
eyes, nothing at all. Looking above their heads then, they see us here as
within a thundercloud, and they see that Death drives your chariot. Within
their hearts there comes a quickening and there is a coldness upon their
biceps and their thighs. See how the beasts pass among them?"
"Yes."
"Let there be no bugles within our ranks, Siddhartha. For this is not
battle, but slaughter."
"Yes."
The zombies slew everything they passed, and when they fell they went
down without a word, for it was all the same with them, and words mean
nothing to the unliving.
They swept the field, and fresh waves of warriors came at them. But the
cavalry had been broken. The foot soldiers could not stand before the
lancers and the Rakasha, the zombies and the infantry of Keenset.
The razor-edged battle chariot driven by Death cut through the enemy
like a flame through a field. Missiles and hurled spears turned in
mid-flight to speed off at right angles before they could touch upon the
chariot or its occupants. Dark fires danced within the eyes of Death as he
gripped the twin rings with which he directed the course of the vehicle.
Again and again, he drove down without mercy upon the enemy, and Sam's lance
darted like the tongue of a serpent as they passed through the ranks.
From somewhere, the notes of a retreat were sounded. But there were
very few who answered the call.
"Wipe your eyes, Siddhartha," said Death, "and call a new formation.
The time has come to press the attack. Manjusri of the Sword must order a
charge."
"Yes, Death, I know."
"We hold the field, but not the day. The gods are watching, judging our
strength."
Sam raised his lance in signal and there was fresh movement among the
troops. Then a new stillness hung about them. Suddenly, there was no wind,
no sound. The sky was blue. The ground was a gray-green trampled thing.
Dust, like a specter hedge, hovered in the distance.
Sam surveyed the ranks, moved his lance forward. At that moment, there
came a clap of thunder.
"The gods will enter the field," said Death, looking upward.
The thunder chariot passed overhead. No rain of destruction descended,
however.
"Why are we still alive?" asked Sam.
"I believe they would rather our defeat be more ignominious. Also, they
may be afraid to attempt to use the thunder chariot against its creator--
justly afraid."
"In that case . . ." said Sam, and he gave the signal for the troops to
charge.
The chariot bore him forward. At his back, the forces of Keenset
followed.
They cut down the stragglers. They smashed through the guard that
attempted to delay them. In the midst of a storm of arrows, they broke the
archers. Then they faced the body of the holy crusaders who had sworn to
level the city of Keenset.
Then there came the notes of Heaven upon a trumpet.
The opposing lines of human warriors parted.
The fifty demigods rode forth.
Sam raised his lance.
"Siddhartha," said Death, "Lord Kalkin was never beaten in battle."
"I know."
"I have with me the Talisman of the Binder. That which was destroyed
upon the pyre at Worldsend was a counterfeit. I retained the original to
study it. I never had the chance. Hold but a moment and I will brace it
about you."
Sam raised his arms and Death clasped the belt of shells around his
waist.
He gave sign then to the forces of Keenset to halt.
Death drove him forward, alone, to face the half-gods.
About the heads of some there played the nimbus of early Aspect. Others
bore strange weapons to focus their strange Attributes. Fires came down and
licked about the chariot. Winds lashed at it. Great smashing noises fell
upon it. Sam gestured with his lance and the first three of his opponents
reeled and fell from the backs of their slizzards.
Then Death drove his chariot among them.
Its edges are razors and its speed three times that of a horse and
twice that of a slizzard.
A mist sprang up about him as he rode, a mist tinged with blood. Heavy
missiles sped toward him and vanished to one side or the other. Ultrasonic
screams assailed his ears, but somehow were partly deadened.
His face expressionless, Sam raised his lance high above his head.
A look of sudden fury crossed over his face, and the lightnings leapt
from its tip.
Slizzards and riders baked and crisped.
The smell of charred flesh came to his nostrils.
He laughed, and Death wheeled the chariot for another pass.
"Are you watching me?" Sam screamed at the heavens. "Watch on, then!
And watch out! You just made a mistake!"
"Don't!" said Death. "It is too soon! Never mock a god until he is
passed!"
And the chariot swept through the ranks of the demigods once again, and
none could touch upon it.
Trumpet notes filled the air, and the holy army rushed to succor its
champions.
The warriors of Keenset moved forward to engage them.
Sam stood in the chariot and the missiles fell heavy about it, always
missing. Death drove him through the ranks of the enemy, now like a wedge,
now like a rapier. He sang as he moved, and his lance was the tongue of a
serpent, sometimes crackling as it fell with bright flashes. The Talisman
glowed with a pale fire about his waist.
"We'll take them!" he said.
"There are only demigods and men upon the field," said Death. "They are
still testing our strength. There are very few who remember the full power
of Kalkin."
"The full power of Kalkin?" asked Sam. "That has never been released,
oh Death. Not in all the ages of the world. Let them come against me now and
the heavens will weep upon their bodies and the Vedra run the color of
blood! . . . Do you hear me? Do you hear me, gods? Come against me! I
challenge you, here upon this field! Meet me with your strength, in this
place!"
"No!" said Death. "Not yet!"
Overhead, the thunder chariot passed once again. Sam raised his lance
and pyrotechnic hell broke loose about the passing vessel.
"You should not have let them know you could do that! Not yet!"
The voice of Taraka came to him then, across the din of the battle and
the song within his brain.
"They come up the river now, oh Binder! And another party assails the
gates of the city!"
"Call then upon Dalissa to rise up and make the Vedra to boil with the
power of the Glow! Take you of the Rakasha to the gates of Keenset and
destroy the invader!"
"I hear, Binder!" and Taraka was gone.
A beam of blinding light fell from the thunder chariot and cut through
the ranks of the defenders.
"The time has come," said Death, and he waved his cloak in gesture.
In the rearmost rank, the Lady Ratri stood up in the stirrups of her
mount, the black mare. She raised the black veil that she wore over her
armor.
There were screams from both sides as the sun covered its face and
darkness descended upon the field. The stalk of light vanished from beneath
the thunder chariot and the burning ceased.
Only a faint phosphorescence, with no apparent source, occurred about
them. This happened as the Lord Mara swept onto the field in his cloudy
chariot of colors, drawn by the horses who vomited rivers of smoking blood.
Sam headed toward him, but a great body of warriors interposed
themselves; and before they won through, Mara had driven across the field,
slaying everyone in his path.
Sam raise his lance and scowled, but his target blurred and shifted;
and the lightnings always fell behind or to the side.
Then, in the distance, within the river, a soft light began. It pulsed
warmly, and something like a tentacle seemed to wave for a moment above the
surface of the waters.
Sounds of fighting came from the city. The air was full of demons. The
ground seemed to move beneath the feet of the armies.
Sam raised his lance and a jagged line of light ran up into the
heavens, provoking a dozen more to descend upon the field.
More beasts growled, coughed and wailed, racing through both ranks,
killing as they passed those of both sides.
The zombies continued to slay, beneath the prodding of the dark
sergeants, to the steady beating of the drums; and fire elementals clung to
the breasts of the corpses, as though feeding.
"We have broken the demigods," said Sam. "Let us try Lord Mara next."
They sought him across the field, amidst screams and wails, crossing
over those who were soon to become corpses and those who already were.
When they saw the colors of his chariot, they gave chase.
He turned and faced them finally, in a corridor of darkness, the sounds
of the battle dim and distant. Death drew rein also, and they stared across
the night into each other's glowing eyes.
"Will you stand to battle, Mara?" cried Sam. "Or must we run you down
like a dog?"
"Speak not to me of your kin, the hound and the bitch, oh Binder!" he
answered. "It is you, isn't it, Kalkin? That's your belt. This is your sort
of war. Those were your lightnings striking friend and foe alike. You did
live, somehow, eh?"
"It is I," said Sam, leveling his lance.
"And the carrion god to drive your wagon!"
Death raised his left hand, palm forward.
"I promise you death, Mara," he said. "If not by the hand of Kalkin,
then by my own. If not today, then another day. But it is between us also,
now."
To the left, the pulsing in the river became more and more frequent.
Death leaned forward and the chariot sped toward Mara.
The horses of the Dreamer reared and blew fire from their nostrils.
They leapt ahead.
The arrows of Rudra sought them in the dark, but these were also turned
aside as they blazed toward Death and his chariot. They exploded upon either
side, adding for a moment to the faint illumination.
In the distance, elephants lumbered, raced and squealed, pursued by the
Rakasha across the plains.
There came a mighty roaring sound.
Mara grew into a giant, and his chariot was a mountain. His horses
spanned eternities as they galloped forward. Lightning leapt from Sam's
lance, like spray from a fountain. A blizzard suddenly swirled about him,
and the cold of interstellar space itself entered into his bones.
At the last possible instant, Mara swerved his chariot and leapt down
from it.
They struck it broadside and there came a grinding sound from beneath
them as they settled slowly to the ground.
By then the roaring was deafening and the pulses of light from the
river had grown into a steady glow. A wave of steaming water swept across
the field as the Vedra overflowed its banks.
There were more screams, and the clash of arms continued. Faintly, the
drums of Nirriti still beat within the darkness, and there came a strange
sound from overhead as the thunder chariot sped toward the ground.
"Where'd he go?" cried Sam.
"To hide," said Death. "But he cannot hide forever."
"Damn it! Are we winning or losing?"
"That's a good question. I don't know the answer, though."
The waters foamed about the grounded chariot.
"Can you get us moving again?"
"Not in this darkness, with the water all around us."
"Then what do we do now?"
"Cultivate patience and smoke cigarettes." He leaned back and struck a
light.
After a time, one of the Rakasha came and hovered in the air above
them.
"Binder!" reported the demon. "The new attackers of the city wear upon
them that-which-repels!"
Sam raised his lance and a line of lightning fled from its point.
For one photoflash of an instant, the field was illuminated.
The dead lay everywhere. Small groups of men huddled together. Some lay
twisting in combat upon the ground. The bodies of animals were strewn among
them. A few large cats still wandered, feeding. The fire elementals had fled
from the water, which had coated the fallen with mud and soaked those who
still could stand. Broken chariots and dead slizzards and horses made mounds
upon the field. Across the scene, empty-eyed and continuing to follow
orders, the zombies wandered, slaying anything living that moved before
them. In the distance, one drum still beat, with an occasional falter. From
the city there came the sounds of continued battle.
"Find the lady in black," said Sam to the Rakasha, "and tell her to
break the darkness."
"Yes," said the demon, and fled back toward the city.
The sun shone again and Sam shielded his eyes against it.
The carnage was even worse under the blue sky and the golden bridge.
Across the field, the thunder chariot rested upon high ground.
The zombies slew the last of the men in sight. Then, as they turned to
seek more life, the drumming ceased and they fell to the ground themselves.
Sam stood with Death within the chariot. They looked about them for
signs of life.
"Nothing moves," said Sam. "Where are the gods?"
"Perhaps in the thunder chariot."
The Rakasha came to them once more.
"The defenders cannot hold the city," he reported.
"Have the gods joined in that assault?"
"Rudra is there, and his arrows work much havoc."
"The Lord Mara. Brahma, too, I think-- and there are many others. There
is much confusion. I hurried."
"Where is the Lady Ratri?"
"She entered into Keenset and abides there in her Temple."
"Where are the rest of the gods?"
"I do not know."
"I will go on to the city," said Sam, "and aid in its defense."
"And I to the thunder chariot," said Death, "to take it and use it
against the enemy-- if it can still be used. If not, there is still Garuda."
"Yes," said Sam, and levitated.
Death sprang down from the chariot. "Fare thee well."
"Thou also."
They crossed the place of carnage, each in his own fashion.
He climbed the small rise, his red leather boots soundless on the turf.
He swept his scarlet cloak back over his right shoulder and surveyed
the thunder chariot.
"It was damaged by the lightnings."
"Yes," he agreed.
He looked back toward the tail assembly, at the one who had spoken.
His armor shone like bronze, but it was not bronze.
It was worked about with the forms of many serpents.
He wore the horns of a bull upon his burnished helm, and in his left
hand he held a gleaming trident.
"Brother Agni, you have come up in the world."
"I am no longer Agni, but Shiva, Lord of Destruction."
"You wear his armor upon a new body and you carry his trident. But none
could master the trident of Shiva so quickly. This is why you wear the white
gauntlet on your right hand, and the goggles upon your brow."
Shiva reached up and lowered the goggles over his eyes.
"It is true, I know. Throw away your trident, Agni. Give me your glove
and your wand, your belt and your goggles."
He shook his head.
"I respect your power, deathgod, your speed and your strength, your
skill. But you stand too far away for any of these to aid you now. You
cannot come at me but I will burn you before you reach me here. Death, you
shall die."
He reached for the wand at his belt.
"You seek to turn the gift of Death against its giver?" The blood-red
scimitar came into his hand as he spoke.
"Good-bye, Dharma. Your days are come to an end."
He drew the wand.
"In the name of a friendship which once existed," said the one in red,
"I will give you your life if you surrender to me."
The wand wavered.
"You killed Rudra to defend the name of my wife."
"It was to preserve the honor of the Lokapalas that I did it. Now I am
God of Destruction, and one with the Trimurti!"
He pointed the fire wand, and Death swirled his scarlet cloak before
him.
There came a flash of light so blinding that two miles away upon the
walls of Keenset the defenders saw it and wondered.
The invaders had entered Keenset. There were fires now, screams, and
the blows of metal upon wood, metal upon metal.
The Rakasha pushed down buildings upon the invaders with whom they
could not close. The invaders as well as the defenders were few in number.
The main bodies of both forces had perished upon the plains.
Sam stood atop the highest tower of the Temple and stared down into the
falling city.
"I could not save you, Keenset," he stated. "I tried, but was not
sufficient."
Far below, in the street, Rudra strung his bow.
Seeing him, Sam raised his lance.
The lightnings fell upon Rudra and the arrow exploded in their midst.
When the air cleared, where Rudra had been standing there was now a
small crater in the center of a space of charred ground.
Lord Vayu appeared upon a distant rooftop and called forth the winds to
fan the flames. Sam raised his lance once more, but then a dozen Vayus stood
upon a dozen rooftops.
"Mara!" said Sam. "Show yourself. Dreamer! It you dare!"
There was laughter all around him.
"When I am ready, Kalkin," came the voice, out of the smoky air, "I
will dare. The choice, though, is mine to make. . .. Are you not dizzy? What
would happen if you were to cast yourself down toward the ground? Would the
Rakasha come to bear you up? Would your demons save you?"
Lightnings fell upon all the buildings near the Temple then, but above
the noise came the laughter of Mara. It faded away into the distance as
fresh fires crackled.
Sam seated himself and watched the city burn. The sounds of fighting
died down and ceased. There was only flame.
A sharp pain came and went in his head. Then it came and would not go.
Then it racked his entire body, and he cried out.
Brahma, Vayu, Mara and four demigods stood below in the street.
He tried to raise his lance, but his hand shook so that it fell from
his grasp, rattled on brick, was gone.
The scepter that is a skull and a wheel was pointed in his direction.
"Come down, Sam!" said Brahma, moving it slightly so that the pains
shifted and burned. "You and Ratri are the only ones left alive! You are the
last! Surrender!"
He struggled to his feet and clasped his hands upon his glowing belt.
He swayed and said the words through clenched teeth:
"Very well! I shall come down, as a bomb into your midst!"
But then the sky was darkened, lightened, darkened.
A mighty cry rose above the sound of the flames.
"It is Garuda!" said Mara.
"Why should Vishnu come-- now?"
"Garuda was stolen! Do you forget?"
The great Bird dived upon the burning city, like a titan phoenix toward
its flaming nest.
Sam twisted his head upward and saw the hood suddenly fall over
Garuda's eyes. The Bird fluttered his wings, then plummeted toward the gods,
where they stood before the Temple.
"Red!" cried Mara. "The rider! He wears red!"
Brahma spun and turned the screaming scepter, holding it with both
hands toward the head of the diving Bird.
Mara gestured, and Garuda's wings seemed to take fire.
Vayu raised both arms, and a wind like a hurricane hammered the mount
of Vishnu, whose beak smashes chariots.
He cried once more, opening his wings, slowing his descent. The Rakasha
then rushed about his head, urging him downward with buffets and stings. He
slowed, slowed, but could not stop.
The gods scattered.
Garuda struck the ground and the ground shuddered.
From among the feathers of his back, Yama came forth, blade in hand,
took three steps, and fell to the ground. Mara emerged from a ruin and
struck him across the back of his neck, twice, with the edge of his hand.
Sam sprang before the second blow descended, but he did not reach the
ground in time. The scepter screamed once more and everything spun about
him. He fought to break his fall. He slowed.
The ground was forty feet below him-- thirty-- twenty . . . The ground
was clouded by a blood-dimmed haze, then black.
"Lord Kalkin has finally been beaten in battle," someone said softly.
Brahma, Mara, and two demigods named Bora and Tikan were the only ones
who remained to bear Sam and Yama from the dying city of Keenset by the
river Vedra. The Lady Ratri walked before them, a cord looped about her
neck.
They took Sam and Yama to the thunder chariot, which was even more
damaged than it had been when they left it, having a great gaping hole in
its right side and part of its tail assembly missing. They secured their
prisoners in chains, removing the Talisman of the Binder and the crimson
cloak of Death. They sent a message then to Heaven, and after a time sky
gondolas came to return them to the Celestial City.
"We have won," said Brahma. "Keenset is no more."
"A costly victory, I think," said Mara.
"But we have won!"
"And the Black One stirs again."
"He sought but to test our strength."
"And what must he think of it? We lost an entire army? And even gods
have died this day."
"We fought with Death, the Rakasha, Kalkin, Night and the Mother of the
Glow. Nirriti will not lift up his hand against us again, not after a
winning such as this."
"Mighty is Brahma," said Mara, and turned away.
The Lords of Karma were called to stand in judgment of the captives.
The Lady Ratri was banished from the City and sentenced to walk the
world as a mortal, always to be incarnated into middle-aged bodies of more
than usually plain appearance, bodies that could not bear the full power of
her Aspect or Attributes. She was shown this mercy because she was judged an
incidental accomplice only, one misled by Kubera, whom she had trusted.
When they sent after Lord Yama, to bring him to judgment, he was found
to be dead in his cell. Within his turban, there had been a small metal box.
This box had exploded.
The Lords of Karma performed an autopsy and conferred.
"Why did he not take poison if he wished to die?" Brahma had asked. "It
would be easier to conceal a pill than that box."
"It is barely possible," said one of the Lords of Karma, "that
somewhere in the world he had another body, and that he sought to
transmigrate by means of a broadcast unit, which was set to destroy itself
after use."
"Could this thing be done?"
"No, of course not. Transfer equipment is bulky and complicated. But
Yama boasted he could do anything. He once tried to convince me that such a
device could be built. But the contact between the two bodies must be direct
and by means of many leads and cables. And no unit that tiny could have
generated sufficient power."
"Who built you the psych-probe?" asked Brahma.
"Lord Yama."
"And Shiva, the thunder chariot? And Agni, the fire wand? Rudra, his
terrible bow? The Trident? The Bright Spear?"
"Yama."
"I should like to advise you then, that at approximately the same time
as that tiny box must have been operating, a great generator, as of its own
accord, turned itself on within the Vasty Hall of Death. It functioned for
less than five minutes, and then turned itself off again."
"Broadcast power?"
Brahma shrugged.
"It is time to sentence Sam."
This was done. And since he had died once before, without much effect,
it was decided that a sentence of death was not in order.
Accordingly, he was transmigrated. Not into another body.
A radio tower was erected, Sam was placed under sedation, transfer
leads were attached in the proper manner, but there was no other body. They
were attached to the tower's converter.
His atman was projected upward through the opened dome, into the great
magnetic cloud that circled the entire planet and was called the Bridge of
the Gods.
Then he was given the unique distinction of receiving a second funeral
in Heaven. Lord Yama received his first; and Brahma, watching the smoke
arise from the pyres, wondered where he really was.
"The Buddha has gone to nirvana," said Brahma. "Preach it in the
Temples! Sing it in the streets'. Glorious was his passing! He has reformed
the old religion, and we are better now than ever before! Let all who would
think otherwise remember Keenset!"
This thing was done also.
But they never found Lord Kubera.
The demons were free.
Nirriti was strong.
And elsewhere in the world there were those who remembered bifocal
glasses and toilets that flushed, petroleum chemistry and internal
combustion engines, and the day the sun had hidden its face from the justice
of Heaven.
Vishnu was heard to say that the wilderness had come into the City at
last.
VII
Another name by which he is sometimes called is Maitreya, meaning Lord
of Light. After his return from the Golden Cloud, he journeyed to the Palace
of Kama at Khaipur, where he planned and built his strength against the Day
of the Yuga. A sage once said that one never sees the Day of the Yuga, but
only knows it when it is past. For it dawns like any other day and passes in
the same wise, recapitulating the history of the world.
He is sometimes called Maitreya, meaning Lord of Light. . .
The world is a fire of sacrifice, the sun its fuel, sunbeams its smoke,
the day its flames, the points of the compass its cinders and sparks. In
this fire the gods offer faith as libation. Out of this offering King Moon
is born.
Rain, oh Gautama, is the fire, the year its fuel, the clouds its smoke,
the lightning its flame, cinders, sparks. In this fire the gods offer King
Moon as libation. Out of this offering the rain is born.
The world, oh Gautama, is the fire, the earth its fuel, fire its smoke,
the night its flame, the moon its cinders, the stars its sparks. In this
fire the gods offer rain as libation. Out of this offering food is produced.
Man, oh Gautama, is the fire, his open mouth its fuel, his breath its
smoke, his speech its flame, his eye its cinders, his ear its sparks. In
this fire the gods offer food as libation. Out of this offering the power of
generation is born.
Woman, oh Gautama, is the fire, her form its fuel, her hair its smoke,
her organs its flame, her pleasures its cinders and its sparks. In this
flame the gods offer the power of generation as libation. Out of this
offering a man is born. He lives for so long as he is to live.
When a man dies, he is carried to be offered in the fire. The fire
becomes his fire, the fuel his fuel, the smoke his smoke, the flame his
flame, the cinders his cinders, the sparks his sparks. In this fire the gods
offer the man as libation. Out of this offering the man emerges in radiant
splendor.
Brihadaranyaka Upanishad (VI, ii, 9-14)
In a high, blue palace of slender spires and filigreed gates, where the
tang of salt sea spray and the crying of sea-wights came across the bright
air to season the senses with life and delight. Lord Nirriti the Black spoke
with the man who had been brought to him.
"Sea captain, what is your name?" he asked.
"Olvagga, Lord," answered the captain. "Why did you kill my crew and
let me live?"
"Because I would question you, Captain Olvagga."
"Regarding what?"
"Many things. Things such as an old sea captain might know, through his
travels. How stands my control of the southern sea lanes?"
"Stronger than I thought, or you'd not have me here."
"Many others are afraid to venture out, are they not?"
"Yes."
Nirriti moved to a window overlooking the sea. He turned his back upon
his captive. After a time, he spoke again:
"I hear there has been much scientific progress in the north since, oh,
the battle of Keenset."
"I, too, have heard this. Also, I know it to be true. I have seen a
steam engine. The printing press is now a part of life. Dead slizzard legs
are made to jump with galvanic currents. A better grade of steel is now
being forged. The microscope and the telescope have been rediscovered."
Nirriti turned back to him, and they studied one another.
Nirriti was a small man, with a twinkling eye, a facile smile, dark
hair, restrained by a silver band, an upturned nose and eyes the color of
his palace. He wore black and lacked a suntan.
"Why do the Gods of the City fail to stop this thing?"
"I feel it is because they are weakened, if that is what you want to
hear, Lord. Since the disaster by the Vedra they have been somewhat afraid
to squelch the progress of mechanism with violence. It has also been said
that there is internal strife in the City, between the demigods and what
remains of their elders. Then there is the matter of the new religion. Men
no longer fear Heaven so much as they used to. They are more willing to
defend themselves; and now that they are better equipped, the gods are less
willing to face them."
"Then Sam is winning. Across the years, he is beating them."
"Yes, Renfrew. I feel this to be true."
Nirriti glanced at the two guards who flanked Olvagga.
"Leave," he ordered. Then, when they ha