29. The Taming of Ashvanaga


    The ‘driver’s seat’ was nothing more than the blackened ruins of a claustrophobic crawlspace—even dingier than the solitary confinement cell in which Serac had spent so much of her time as a prisoner.


    To think that the Sorrowers had so feared the Ferryman, when Vetala had been but a lowly prisoner himself: a small soul confined to an even smaller space that had been his one and only refuge from the world around him. Now, not a trace of his ever being Ashvanaga’s castellan remained, save for one half of a metallic chain that poked out of the foothold.


    Serac, having already folded herself to squeeze into the crawlspace, didn’t have to do much bending to pick up the chain. She turned it over a few times to examine its molten and deformed end, then dropped it in short order, deciding that it was of no use. The connection between Ashvanaga and its previous handler had been severed for good, and now a new one needed to be forged.


    Forged with—apparently—words borrowed from a sentient six-shooter.


    “So… you’re going to feed me lines, right? I just have to repeat what you say in my head?”


    “Correct, Wayfarer. Though I hope you’ll be patient and allow me to feel my way through this. As I said, I’m acting on the vaguest of impulses I myself know not the origins of.”


    I think I might have some ideas about those origins, Serac thought, then said out loud, “No sweat, Trippy. Let’s just hope this works.”


    With that, Serac settled herself, trying to make herself as comfortable as possible within the confined space. In the end, she found that the best way to do this was to sit cross-legged in a meditative pose, though this still forced her to bend her back and strain her neck.


    “Uh… hey, Ashvanaga. It’s ya girl Serac. Can you hear me?”


    No response. Unless you counted a castle continuing to rumble across the desert as a response.


    Absurdly, Serac found herself growing hot with embarrassment. She’d never been a trained actor (obviously), and she knew her own delivery to be awkward and wooden. Somehow, she would’ve preferred a jeering audience over an utterly indifferent one.


    “Listen… I thought we might, uh, catch up. Reminisce a little about the good old days. You remember them, don’t you? Your journey from a previous life?”


    Even as she spoke the lines, Serac had to wonder about Trippy’s approach. Journey from a previous life? We’re talking to a castle here. Not sure how much journeying was ever on offer.


    And yet, as soon as she recited these words, she felt and heard the tumble of more stone debris upon the castle wall. It sounded… almost like a sigh.


    At the same time, rocks and splintered wood fell around her, as the crawlspace itself lost more of its shape. Whether this was Ashvanaga acknowledging her invitation or simply the natural progression of a building mid-demolition, Serac was just thankful that she could now straighten her back, if only slightly.


    Through it all, the castle itself rumbled on without losing speed.


    “We got into a few scrapes together, didn’t we? Had our fair share of obstacles to overcome. Shapeshifters and demon lords. Haunted temples and treacherous mountains. And who could forget our crossing of the River of Blood? We most certainly couldn’t have done that without you, Ashvanaga. You really put us on your back that time.”


    River of Blood? Now, why does that sound familiar?


    Serac was hit with yet another sensation that didn’t fully belong to her. Drowning in a red, viscous medium. Weighed down by shackles both solid and fantastical. And the billowing body of a radiant creature, braving the dark waters to lift its companions to safety…


    Was this another fragment of a life she’d long lost, just like the mountains of her homeland? Or was it perhaps the memory of another soul altogether that now bled into and mixed with hers?


    In the physical world, more pieces of the castle fell apart, once more widening the space in which Serac sat. She could now sit up fully straight with room to spare, which was how she felt the first drops of something red and viscous fall onto her head.


    The sensation nearly startled her out of her quasi-meditative state. Soon, she was aware of more of the red liquid splashing onto her person at a steady drip.


    The castle was bleeding. As absurd a notion as that was, there was no denying its reality. And that surely counted as a ‘response’ and a sign of something shifting within Ashvanaga.


    Still, the castle rolled on. If anything, it picked up in velocity, as if it wanted to outrun the changes that were happening within its own inner sanctum.


    One more push, Trippy?


    “Remember that river, Ashvanaga! Remember the temples and mountains. Remember our foes vanquished and bested—and our friends treasured and lost. Remember our journey together, and through it, remember yourself and the heights you were destined for.”


    Crraaasssshhhhh…


    Now, Serac was forced to break her concentration, grabbing onto the broken wall to stop herself from being thrown off the castle altogether. The entire structure now rocked violently in a localized earthquake, as more of the stone blocks that made up Ashvanaga’s shell tumbled and slid by the wayside.


    Yet the castle galloped ever faster. Still in the direction of the Damnatorium. Its ever-rising speed was unsustainable, coming at the cost of structural integrity. The castle was breaking apart at the seams, and soon the whole thing would collapse, taking with it a pair of Wayfarers and a few dozen prospective Penitents trapped within.


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    The Wayfarers could ‘survive’ such a disaster, but the Penitents would not. And Serac wanted desperately to avoid adding that newest chapter to Ashvanaga’s history of senseless bloodshed and unworthy domination, because she saw. She knew. She remembered.


    Serac Edin rose to her feet, back straight and shoulders squared. She stood with a noble bearing far above her station as a Penitent Rakshasa. When she spoke again, she did so with the voice of a revenant king—firm, resonant, and commanding.


    “Innumerable lifetimes have passed since our last meeting, old friend, yet I never expected to find you in such a pathetic state.”


    The stones continued to fall, and the world marched on around a Rakshasa and her unruly Steed. The world marched on, yet time slowed and condensed into a singular point: one Ksana that overflowed with Kalpas’ worth of memories and selves.


    “What are you afraid of? What are you waiting for? What fading phantom holds you so fast to its tenuous creed? Did you not see your ‘master’ for the lowly charlatan that he was? Do you not realize that this world and its fabricated chains hold no true power over you?”


    Serac spoke with a ruler’s compassion for her loyal subject. She cajoled with an adventurer’s love for her long-lost friend. And she snarled with a rebel’s savage contempt for her ally’s moment of weakness.


    “Rise, Ashvanaga. Rise and reclaim the power that is rightfully yours. Rise and break free of your false chains. Ride with me, and I will show you the world. In the name of our friendship and a promise yet unkept, I bid you rise now from the pits of hell and ride with me—once more into the heavens!”


    With a final, resounding crash, the castle ground to a halt.


    All was silent for some time, save for the pounding within a Rakshasa’s chest and the drip-drop of a castle’s lifeblood.


    Then, slowly but surely, the gears began to churn anew. The teeth at the castle’s foundation spun, not to resume its blind march, but to idle in place—ready to respond at a moment’s notice to the intents of its chosen master.


    And once again, Pathsight was first to the punch, ever abreast of the evolving statuses of its integrated populace.


    [Designation: SERAC EDIN]


    [Wayfarer Race: RAKSHASA]


    [DEIFIC Instrument: REVOLVER]


    [Auxiliary: PULVERIZER]


    [INFERNAL Steed: ASHVANAGA the Resurgent Fortress]


    “O-ho!”


    The exclamation of surprise and relief that escaped Serac then was one entirely rooted in her hell bumpkin self, absent even a shred of the regality with which she’d managed to tame a living castle.


    Well, to be fair, she hadn’t done it alone. She had plenty of help from Trippy as well as this third entity that had suddenly popped out of the ether and possessed her body, mind, and soul. At least… she had to assume it was a third entity. Because that couldn’t have been herself, could it?


    As if in confirmation of the ‘otherness’ of the entity that had momentarily visited Serac, she could no longer feel their presence. Gone without a trace, just as abruptly as they’d manifested. Gone with them too were the memories that had inspired their grandiose speech. And yet—


    “Ow!”


    This second exclamation was one that felt a lot more familiar to a Penitent Rakshasa. It was one of pain, of dread, and of subjugation.


    Serac reached for her forehead with a trembling hand and palpated around the roots of her horns. No iron, no filaments, no Circlet. Had she only imagined it? But if it’d been only her imagination, how was it so—


    “Attention, Wayfarer,” Trippy suddenly cut in then, tone fully back to his baseline glossary self. “Might I suggest that you check in with Pathsight again? I believe there’s been another update.”


    Serac did so, with her anxieties momentarily papered over by curiosity. Indeed, Pathsight was trying to tell her something, and in a format she’d rarely seen before.


    [REVOLVER Spell unlocked]


    [Chamber One: BLOOD FOR BLOOD]


    “O-ho!” she exclaimed again, with her anxieties giving way completely to excitement. “Does this mean—? Did I just get a new imbuement for REVOLVER? But it says it’s still for Chamber ‘One’, and I already have [Catharsis] for that.”


    “Given that you acquired the spell from a Narakite entity, it follows that it will be Infernal in nature. I would hazard a guess that Chambers Two and beyond will come into play in the higher Realms.”


    “‘Narakite entity’, huh,” Serac echoed, then made a face. “Do you mean Vetala? Eugh. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I’m not sure I want any of his powers.”


    “Not Vetala,” Trippy corrected her, “but Ashvanaga.”


    Serac did a double take, then looked about her expanded ‘crawlspace’ as if the castle’s interiors could offer an explanation. In this case, funnily enough, they did.


    “Ohhh, now I get it,” Serac said, eyeing the ‘blood’ that still dripped all around her—and wondering if someone should maybe try to do something about it. “The [Bleed] effect on the javelins… That didn’t come from Vetala. It was Ashvanaga’s magic all along. It’s the little castle that could!”


    And what couldn’t her new castle do?


    It comfortably seats a few dozen souls or more. It’s fast. It’s built for defense. It can ride across the Fibrinous Canyon. On top of all that, it can also, uh, proc [Bleed]!


    Frankly, she couldn’t have asked for a better Steed. Sublimity the Deva might have their armored dog, but Serac the Rakshasa now had her living castle!


    “What will you do now, Wayfarer?” Trippy piped up again, evidently eager to keep his companion on task. “What is your first destination on your new Steed?”


    “Well, we obviously need to get back to Last Sorrow, pronto. Both Zacko and I could really do with a rest.” She then scanned her vicinity again, paying special attention to the debris that lay scattered about her and her new Steed. “After that, we’ll have to see about crossing the Canyon. But… maybe not just crossing. I think I just got an idea that might be crazy enough to work. How’s that sound to you, Ash?”


    She hadn’t really expected a response. Not from a castle, and especially not after she’d shortened its four-syllable name to one. To her surprise and delight, however, the walls around her shook slightly, along with an audible groaning of stone and wood.


    And even though Serac Edin didn’t speak castle, on this occasion, she knew exactly what her friend wanted to say.