31. Blood Under the Bridge


    As a frog readied to leap out of her well, she was blindsided by the news that not all of her well-mates intended to join her.


    “Wait, you’re not coming?” she asked incredulously of Ravi the elder, who’d joined the departing group by the cliff edge but only to see them off.


    “I admit that I’ve wanted to leave this place for as long as I can remember,” he said as his whited eyes crinkled into a warm smile, “but it was in fact you, Serac Edin, that changed my mind. After you shared your plans of building a bridge over the Canyon.”


    It was true. Not content with simply ferrying a group of Penitents back to the mainland, Serac had come up with a permanent solution to the natural barrier that was the Fibrinous Canyon.


    In fact, much of the last several days here had been spent testing her theory and laying down the first portion of the bridge, so she knew the project would work.


    She just couldn’t see why Ravi had to stay behind because of it.


    “The new bridge would mean that First Hope becomes a hub, in the truest sense of the word,” the old man explained patiently. “For escaped Penitents, this would be their first port of call before rejoining the mainland. And for anyone else foolish or brave enough to cross over of their own volition—whether to explore, to test themselves, or perhaps one day to lay siege upon the Damnatorium—First Hope and its great lotus will be a place of rest, assembly, and communion. A rallying point, if you will.”


    “If you build it, they will come…” Serac murmured, recalling something from a recent reading material.


    “Precisely.” Ravi nodded. “Which also means that… someone ought to remain and watch over this place. To guide any lost souls who may wander through. To ensure that the great lotus never loses its pure luster. And to protect your bridge from enemies both natural and Aberrant.”


    “That’s right,” one of the younger Rakshasas chimed in. Serac recognized him as the oddball who liked to write using his own blood. “Ravi isn’t the only one staying behind. We need some muscle around here—to fight off any Hellspawns who might get funny ideas. Besides, with the lot of you gone, this place will be a lot quieter. Maybe I could finally finish my novel then…”


    Serac didn’t have high hopes for the novel, but she couldn’t fault the man for his sincerity. The would-be writer was soon joined by a dozen or so young men and women who’d pledged their allegiance to First Hope as its permanent population.


    The Wayfarer couldn’t help but smile with bemusement as she inspected this ragtag army of fellow Rakshasas. They weren’t exactly what she’d describe as ‘muscle’ (not that Serac was one to talk), but every one of them bared their claws and wore their horns proudly. They could be counted on to defend her bridge—and they’d also be good value as a ready-made source for Zacko’s Secondary Transfer.


    “Well, if you’re so sure,” Serac turned to Ravi and held out a hand, a little sad but also plenty glad, “I leave First Hope in your capable hands. Just know that the bridge will be here if you need it. In case, you know, things get a little too stuffy here.”


    “Do not worry about me, Wayfarer.” Ravi took her hand with both of his and squeezed it with surprising strength. “But will you allow this old man to give you one last parting advice?”


    So white hot was Ravi’s gaze that Serac’s first reaction was to shrink back from it. But here was a man who was the closest thing to a wise grandpa she’d ever had, and even a bumpkin like her knew that there was much a youngling could learn from her elders. She nodded.


    “Whenever you think you’ve reached the end of your journey… whenever you grow weary of the challenges or believe yourself incapable of overcoming them… know that there is always a way forward. Finding that solution may require a detour, or it may sit right under your nose. However you go about it, you mustn’t give up. The world needs a Serac Edin or two to storm through its midst on occasion… and right now, you need to experience that world for yourself.”


    “I…” Serac was momentarily left speechless. It wasn’t so much Ravi’s words as the ferocity and urgency with which he spoke them—one Rakshasa to another—that had taken her aback. In the end, she settled for, “Thank you. And don’t worry, I won’t give up that easily. I’m in it now, so might as well see it through to the end, right?”


    The casual, almost deflective lightness of her words belied a deep-seated determination—one Serac herself wasn’t fully conscious of. For unbeknownst even to her, this Wayfaring business of ‘ascending the Six Realms’ had taken on a rather personal significance.


    In her heart of hearts, Serac knew. She knew that the peak of Mount Meru hid a truth that was core to her being—the ticket to a home that had been taken from her before she was even born. On a side note, Devalem was also where she’d find the asshole who owed her exactly [904 ?] in Liminal Karma.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ***


    It took Serac, Zacko, and their Hoper helpers the better part of a day to finish building the bridge.


    The hardest part wasn’t the labor but the organization. Too many eager bodies tripping over themselves to contribute. In the end, Zacko—man of the people—proved the most capable of directing traffic and assigning discrete roles.


    Under the Manusya’s supervision, the group formed a kind of assembly line. One team to lay down the stone blocks, carefully as not to get caught by the Fibrin web. A second team to form two lines and transport the blocks, passing them from hand to hand. And a third team to harvest the construction material from Ashvanaga’s castle body.


    Yes. This was Serac’s grand idea, hatched from the sight of fallen debris left in the wake of their epic battle.


    Gruesome was one way to put it. Downright cruel was another. But she’d made sure to obtain Ash’s informed consent (in the form of a loud and enthusiastic crreeaakkk…) before starting the demolition work.


    Because, as it turned out, it was Ash’s blood that contained the anti-Fibrin properties needed to traverse the Canyon floor. The mechanical churning of its teeth certainly helped with forward motion, but it’d always relied on the magic inherent in its own lifeblood to disrupt the Fibrin webs’ integrity and prevent their constant reshaping.


    Gruesome was one way to put it. Downright horrifying was another, but it was also very much on-theme for an ‘Infernal’ Steed and its hellish origins. In any case, the castle itself was more than happy to go along with its new master’s plan, even if it meant ‘shrinking’ to a fraction of its original size.


    Before all was said and done, Ash was reduced to a single battlement, a ‘cabin’ just big enough to seat a pair of Wayfarers and perhaps several guests, and a storage compartment to hold odds and ends.


    Her Steed’s newly compact size suited Serac’s needs just fine. If anything, she preferred it this way, as rumbling around everywhere inside a massive castle seemed neither practical nor desirable.


    And if ever she wanted her mobile fortress to be fortress-sized again? Well, in that scenario, she’d likely have the manpower already on hand to help her rebuild Ashvanaga anew.


    After the bridge was finished, the Wayfarers and the Hopers faced one last obstacle in the form of a Hellspawn ambush.


    A swarm of Flesh-fiends had gathered, no doubt enticed by the thick scent of living flesh. This time, Serac and Zacko couldn’t rely on ‘divine intervention’ in the form of a KL-185 Deva’s deadly AOE attack. Instead, they turned once more to Ashvanaga and its bag of tricks.


    It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that the castle and its javelins were a package deal. So, as a swarm of Fiends converged on their location, Zacko climbed onto the battlement to act as a turret while Serac picked off the stragglers from ground level.


    The defensive weapons—coated with more of Ash’s magic—were well-suited to the task. The damage from a single hit ([180!]) wasn’t nearly enough to be lethal, but the javelins themselves, when angled just right, could pin the Fiends in place, where they either [Bled] to death or waited to be finished off by Serac’s REVOLVER shots.


    In the end, the run-in with the Fiends served as another nice boost to Karma as well as a testing ground for Ash’s mobile defense capabilities. A productive if rather resource-intensive way to start off life on the far side of the Sanzu River.


    With the landing spot secured, the Wayfarers waited for the departing Hopers to finish crossing on foot. Then it was time for a final round of hugs, handshakes, and farewells.


    The area immediately next to the Canyon was more pink desert, much like the one they’d just left behind. But if Serac scanned the horizon, she could see rolling hills to the east and steep mountain peaks to the northwest.


    As a frog that’d just taken her first leap, she didn’t know much if anything about the world outside her well. But if she knew anything about climbing, it was that she needed to find the highest place and get there. Which likely meant—


    “To the east are the Reticence Fields,” Pazu, who’d become something of a second leader figure among the Hopers, now took on the role of spokesperson. “It’s the part of the mainland where Hellspawn activity is sparsest. Naturally, that’s where we’re headed. Some of us have family there. Others will look to build something new. I hear there’s a group who’re in the midst of founding a whole city. Can you imagine that? A sanctuary in hell: somewhere for us Rakshasas to live out our days in peace—or perhaps even prosperity, if we dare to dream it.”


    “Well, you better get dreaming then!” Serac punched her fellow Rakshasa in the arm, though much lighter than she would’ve with Zacko. Then she found herself frowning, at least briefly, as she searched for the right word for what she wanted to express. “Wherever you go, I hope you find contentment there. You, Indira, and everyone else.”


    “But don’t get too content,” Zacko deadpanned without missing a beat, “especially not until you can throw a decent punch or two.”


    “I’ll be sure to keep practicing, master,” Pazu said with a smile and a mock bow, then turned serious again as he asked, “Where will you go, Wayfarers? Did you have a destination in mind?”


    At this, as if in unspoken agreement, both Serac and Zacko turned and nodded toward the mountain peaks.


    “I don’t have a name for our destination,” Serac said, “but it’s probably somewhere over yonder.”


    “Agreed,” Zacko agreed. “Somewhere over yonder looks like it could be the highest point in all of Naraka. That probably is where we need to go.”


    Pazu nodded with grim understanding. “The Bonespires. I don’t envy you and your Wayfaring ambitions. We’ve all heard the horror stories about the evil creatures that roam the northern peaks. And before you even reach the Spires, you first have the Badlands to contend with.”


    Serac and Zacko exchanged a look. His was a sardonic smile with one eyebrow raised. Hers was a grin of blazing excitement.


    “Well,” Serac said with an earnest shrug, “we’re Wayfarers. We can take it.”