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"Corruption Leads into Creation"

Chapter 2

by Juna of Sofurry

Juna

characters (c) Juna of SoFurry

The mountain passage of King's Highway snaked through the countries of Siam, Bangladesh, Southern China and Northern India, curving west around the base of the Himalayas. Arjuna trees dotted the open valleys woven apart by small rivers moving south to meet the Ganges. Greenery blanketed all but the rocky side of the snow-capped mountain range; the beauty of the Northern heights provided a spectacle for travelers. But where beauty lies danger is sure to follow. Bandits scoured the trails and skirted the boundaries of villages in search of prey. They accosted those unable to fight back. Merchants tossed coin purses to the ground, while their carts were pillaged by miscreants; and families huddled in fear of loosing one another. The bandits ruled the countryside taking from the weak and the foolhardy. For Bengal tigress, Hemangini Sethi, she landed in the later and not the former.

Hemangini walked King's Highway at first light with her satchel idly bouncing behind her. Summer's heat washed over the shaman's garment she wore. Linen clothing carried the weight of sweaty fur and personal goods. The cutthroats prowling King's Highway would be in for a surprise! She thought. Hemangini traveled in her conjurer robes for a reason. The tigress brought her right paw in front of her. She smiled at the frigid sensation forming between her slim fingers. Hemangini winced. A burning freeze ached up from her wrist, across her palm, and it finished by branching out from fingers to claw tips. The end result was a glittering texture enveloping the shaman's hand. Delicate ice lattices etched over the surface of her paw. She cooled the air about her paw and produced a frozen glove. Hemangini smirked at her creation. She poised the frozen hand about the base of her neck. The cool touch soothed the agony of summer's warmth. A chill trembled down her spine replacing the heat borrowing into her skin. Hemangini could call upon the elements, and despite the showmanship, proved a capable fighter with her powers. Bandits toting daggers and crude swords were no match for the stalwart shaman. Hemangini's thoughts were interrupted by a loud clap of thunder. The tigress glanced up at the afternoon sky. Dark clouds gathered overhead, forming shadows on the dirt road. Thunder boomed in the distance, and Hemangini decided it was time to bow to those elements she couldn't control.

* * *

Unforgiving rain pelted the roads leading from Kunming to Liyang in Yunnan County China. Hemangini managed an ox-cart ride to Liyang, but the driver allowed passage after she earned her keep. Hemangini hoisted grain sacks and bushels onto the back of the gazelle's wagon. The elderly buck was called Li Han, and he found Hemangini's name difficult to say. He ended up calling her Hema for short. They left the sanctuary of a Kunming depot and headed south in the rainy evening. The rains washed away the strong dirt paths, churning the earth into a muddy hazard. Hemangini's ride trudged through the mess. The oxen snorted in protest as the gazelle's whip struck their flanks. Li Han growled in his foreign tongue at the beasts. This must have been common place, because the lead ox snorted one last time before moving again. Hema watched the rain cascade down from the cover of the wagon. She wished her command of the elements extended as far as invoking them. Hema stared at the road ahead. The rain showed little sign of letting up.

* * *

Li fastened a tarp to his payload while Hema patted the lead bull's side. Rest was in order for the two weary travelers. The merchant smiled at Hema.

"Madam Wu's pale ale might solve our problems."

The tigress wiped her hands on her smock. Her companion pointed over his shoulder to the tavern next door. A rush of cold night air, speckled with rain, rushed through the livery barn. Hema huddled in her tunic, "Warm tea would be nice."

He shook his head and answered with a toothy grin, "Get inside. I'll finish out here and be with you shortly."

* * *

Hema trotted pass muddy banks and beggars. Smells of urine stung her nose as did the odorous filth rotting in the streets, all damp from the downpour and adding to the aroma of the storm. She quickly made her way to the tavern and out of the rain. Hema opened the tavern's wooden door finding her arrival with mild fanfare. The group inside glanced up from their steaming noodles and flat beers to take in Hemangini. She shoved the heavy door closed and stared back at them. The feline's cobalt eyes warned the strangers to "back off". None paid her much attention say for a drowsy hookah smoker. She rolled her eyes at him and searched out the tavern's proprietor. At the bar a lone Siamese barmaid sorted whiskies from wines. Hema brought her soaked bag up to the table. She realized her error in setting the wet pack atop the counter, because out of nowhere an angry hiss greeted her ears.

Hemangini found herself face to face with an irritated barmaid eyeing the rain soaked satchel lying atop the counter. "Were you raised in a barn? Take that off the counter."

"Actually I just came from a barn, now that you mention it." Hemangini bore down on the Siamese.

The felines glowered at one another, ready to strike, but they turned at the sound of a loud bang. The wooden door slammed shut, and no surprise, Li Han entered and shook off his cloak. His long, braided beard danced as he finally freed himself of his outer wear. The barmaid seemed to have forgotten the tigress and brightened up at the sight of Han.

"Is my new helper causing problems, Dao Ming?" Han smirked at Hemangini.

Han left coins on the counter, "Tea for her, Pale Ale for me, and bring fresh noodle and dumplings. Wu makes best noodle and dumplings in all of Yunnan."

Dao Ming swept the coins up into her paws and deposited them into a purse around her belt. She gave a smile and called out to whoever served as the cook. Crashes echoed from the back room as the Siamese ducked behind a curtain leading into the kitchen. Han interlocked his arm with Hema's leading her to an already occupied table.

"Know her? I take it." Hemangini walked with her companion.

He directed her towards an already occupied table with two elderly male goats engaged in a game of checkers. Hema smiled at the seated elderly pair. The goats stared intensely at the checkers board sprawled out before them. They momentarily stopped for the arrival of new guests. The checkers players were Kambing and Shanyang, old friends of Li Han. Kambing resumed his game after introductions. The white goat stroked his braided beard, coiling his fingers about loose hairs. The gray goat, Shanyang, offered apologizes for the stubborn Kambing.

"Ignore the old fool. Welcome! We've been playing this game for a week now. But where are my manners?" Shanyang shuffled back to his seat with a grunt, moving in his old age proved tasking. He patted a seat next to him for Hema. She accepted and squeezed in between the goat and the wall.

Han forced Kambing to the table and maneuvered around for seating. Kambing, oblivious to his surroundings, moved a piece on the board. "Your move Shan."

"So, Hema was it?" Shanyang tapped his chin. He pondered where to place the next game piece and how to solidify his victory. The goat forgot his question with his concentration lost to the game.

Hemangini turned to Han. Her traveling companion shrugged. The rams glared at the checker board unaware of the outside world once again. Hema heard someone walking up and no surprise it was Dao Ming. The Siamese actually smiled at the tigress this time. Hemangini wondered how much salt she choked down to keep from snapping. Dao Ming placed a tankard and pitcher for the gazelle, refilling Kam and Shan's tumblers as well. Tea pot and cup came last.

"'Hema the Trouble Maker' as Han calls her," giggled Dao Ming.

With the Siamese's approach, the goats tore away from checkers long enough to drink. Kambing reached for his tumbler and swirled the brown ale. He dipped his tongue into the mug. The contents tasted bitter but strong. Three wizened males drank up ready for another round. Hemangini gently lifted the steaming tea cup to her lips, drinking the contents with measured sips. Fear of what the Siamese might do kept her from enjoying her beverage. Dao Ming smiled at her patrons and purred when Han addressed her.

"Compliments to Madam Wu, " he glanced up at Dao Ming, "and to her lovely barmaid - stow that tongue of yours."

The surprise on Dao Ming's face was priceless. Li Han never spoke to her like that. She gripped the edges of her tray till her knuckles hurt. The anger bubbling from within was palpable. Where did the old codger get off telling her to "stow her tongue"? Dao Ming seethed with renewed hatred this time focused on Han. The words that could tumble pass her muzzle were laced in venom, but she valued her job, and stayed her contempt. With a quick bow, she dismissed herself and stalked off to the kitchen.

"Poor girl," Han hoisted his mug to his lips, "she has a good heart just not always in the right place." He drank and swallowed hard.

Shanyang smiled at Hema, "She had her claws in you."

"Obviously, I had no idea Han's reputation proceeded him. I don't know if I should be flattered or concerned."

Kambing and Shanyang smirked over at the gazelle. Han lost himself to the tankard; no answer it seemed. Hemangini searched Han's face for a sign but he feigned being stoic. No such luck. His muzzle remained tight lipped and his look impassive.

Kambing waved a hand at his friend's dismissal. "Bah! You old bastard. Always killing the mood."

"Speaking of killing, been hearing about the chaos out of Calaculla?" Shanyang drank from the remainder of his ale, grabbing the pitcher for another round.

Hemangini stopped short of raising her cup back to her muzzle. Putting her cup down she asked, "You mean the city of Vyapara?"

Shan's dark eyes glanced over at Hema. "Aye, the one and only. Something about a demon living in the forest. Peddlers on the road speak of how it gets into your mind and asks for your soul. People caution one another to steer away from the city, but no matter what they keep coming just the same."

Li Han spoke this time, "Not to mention men and women disappear while traveling through the forests. Sadly, women are never heard from again. All they find are tattered clothing and signs of struggle."

Kambing was the last of them to speak ,"All the attacks happen close to the old Kali temple. Makes you wonder, eh?"

Shan and Han nodded their heads in agreement but Hema shook hers.

"There are far too many creatures in the other world that can fed on mortals, or at the very least cull their souls. I remember the tales about Vyapara and its downfall." The three bucks watched the tigress lost in thought. She ignored them. Hema focused her attention on the lore surrounding Vyapara. The shamaness recalled what information she could.

She thought back to the legends of Vyapara in the kingdom of Magadha. King Bagh Singh ruled Magadha from the capital city of Vyapara. During his tenure, Singh created a haven of cultural wealth and economic boom. The people loved Singh. His subjects elevated that admiration further when his majesty erected a temple to Shiva. Never before had such a kingdom thrived! But the accolades ceased after the king grew sick. The king showed little signs of improving, culminating to his untimely death. Singh's people readied to mourn his passing, while his sons readied for the crown. Princes Jansher and Jahangir discovered, much to their chagrin, that their father never intended for them to inherit the throne, or anyone else for that matter. The two sons believed the disinheritance was a test. Jansher (the elder) and Jahangir (the younger) would go on to fight a long, bloody civil war over the throne.

Both sons wasted manpower and resources to secure a chance at ruling. The elder brother believed his father's people loved him if he campaigned under the banner of righteousness. Jansher emulated heroism on the field, leading troops to the front line and risking his own hide for a chance at glory. King Bagh Singh, as brother Jahangir remembered, never ran head first into the fray. Such romanticized fallacies existed in Jansher's fantastical mind . The younger son knew father as noble, but not for the sake of his neck. Daddy dearest ruled with a firm paw and wielded power as a true king should. Jahangir declared a campaign of power. He secretly sought dark magicians and performed black magic. He used unholy powers to smite the soldiers of his brother. Jansher and Jahangir died at one another's hands. Their recklessness became the prize for destroying what their father created. The remaining royal family fled in exile. But had an insidious presence remained in the princes' absence? Maybe Hemangini's arrival wasn't coincidence after all.

"May the good King Bagh Sing rest in benevolent peace, and may the gods save the people from the evil haunting Calaculla," Kambing said before chugging the last of his tumbler.

Hema grabbed at her skirt, bunching the fabric up in her palms. She guessed this was the reason for coming all this way to the borders of China and Siam. Elements be damned! If the rain hadn't diverted her journey she would be without this knowledge of Vyapara. She faced Han giving him a sad look.

"I'm beginning to understand what hunts the people of Vyapara," she pinned her ears back and bowed her head, "and it's not from this world."