We escaped the city during the night in an elaborate palanquin, carried by Zealot servants. Our flight from the city was mired in chaos as the guards were only letting the wealthy escape from the city first and denying the large throng of peasants passage. My father was no doubt already gone from the city, I remembered thinking snidely. As for us, the Zealots had forged a number of papers and our palanquin was elaborate enough, so the guards assumed we were wealthy and important, thus warranting our priority passage over the common rabble. As I turned back to gaze at the city of my birth and death, the one last image of the city burned into my memory right before the light engulfed the city and everything to the East became one solid block of pure white. Rabbi Singh told me to get comfortable as we were going to stay in here for a long time. Travel for the Elohim is particularly dangerous, considering the circumstances and the risks associated with being exposed to the sun for long periods of time. The palanquin was heavily covered, Nagina resided inside with us so we could feed steadily along the journey and several loyal Zealot servants were outside, working almost all day and night to transport us to our destination. It didn’t do much to assuage my fears though.
Several days passed as we trekked from Madras to the capital and during the eighth night of the journey, it seemed as if we had reached the capital outskirts without any difficulty. Nagina was resting after I had partaken of her blood for my evening meal and my mentor was tutoring me on passages in the Torah when it happened without a moments warning. The whole of the palanquin shook as my mentor and I slid off of our seats and wound up slammed against the left wall of the room. Every object inside the palanquin slid in response to the shifting weight and threatened to crush us. The heavy table in particular nearly crushed me in an instant; I owed my narrow escape to the Rabbi’s lightning fast reflexes and strong hand. Nagina was still somehow sleeping soundly through all of this, sleeping inside my own coffin. Outside, a roaring noise could be heard, nearly overpowering the sound of the dust storm, the clanking of crossbow mechanisms and the screams of our Zealot servants. Shuddering at the sudden shock, I tried peering out the window to get a good look at what exactly was happening, but Rabbi Singh yelled at me to get down. Fortunately, there was a small hole near the bottom where I was leaning against, and I wasted no time in trying to discern what was happening. The silhouette of a woman could be seen in the heavy sandstorm, carrying some sort of odd device and very clearly being the person responsible for our current awkward position the floor.
I could only watch in terror through the peephole as our Zealot servants were being ripped to shreds by streaks of gold that spewed forth from the device the serpentspawn was carrying in her arms. Looking overhead from my awkward position, some of the golden streaks were piercing through the walls and sending splinters flying every which way. The Zealots carrying the right side of our palanquin apparently decided that now was a good time to respond because both the Rabbi and I could feel the violent shock of the room being abruptly dropped onto the road. In just a few moments though, all activity seemed to cease.
“What is that?!” I whispered, nervously to my mentor, who was still pressed against the wall.
“It’s an artifact weapon from the Nine Days War,” he muttered. “But stay sharp, because that’s the least of our worries right now,”
“What do you me—“ I said as a corner of the palanquin collapsed as if someone punched it in.
An agonizing pressure pervaded the interior of the room, causing me to writhe in pain,
despite the heightened endurance of my undead condition. The Rabbi only chuckled at this as I expressed my horror with a gasp.
“She thinks it’s safe…” he mumbled, seemingly taking no notice or pain of the invisible crushing force being applied all around our wooden prison; more sides of the palanquin were collapsing and threatening to crush us inside. “Wake Nagina! Hurry, Rajat! Do it with great haste!” he commanded as he burst out the side of the wall and attacked the serpentspawn woman.
His hand reached out to seize her hand, only to be rebuffed with a scathing claw to the face that drew numerous drops of black blood. Having gained some distance between them now, the woman’s finger squeezed a little trigger on the artifact she was holding and the golden streaks spewed forth once more, shredding the body of my mentor but not stopping him. The old man was able to charge through the hail of gold and strike away the woman’s hood, revealing the face of a Pashtun woman. Rabbi Singh followed up with a savage blow to her gut but she recovered quickly and pointed her hand straight at my mentor. He subsequently stopped in his tracks and began to scream over the sandstorm as he was being suspended in the air and contorted by some invisible force.
It was at this that I snapped out of my fixation with the duel and moved quickly to wake Nagina from her slumber. As she was slowly coming to, coughing from her body’s reaction to some of that lingering force, I pushed the Zealot outside and followed through. I had no idea why he gave me such an absurd order, but as I was to find out, I fortunately did it none too soon.
Rabbi Singh’s old body was being twisted every which way and black blood spurted from the wounds she had previously inflicted on him. She turned to face us as she continued to contort him; the look of calm, collected confidence on her face rapidly turned aghast as she noticed Nagina rubbing her drowsy eyes and subsequently witnessing the display of force before her. As if the serpentspawn was struck head-on by a chariot, she was blown backwards as if by divine punishment, far into the air and deep into the sandstorm, staining the sand with blood.
I stood on edge as the sand buffeted my face; nervously waiting for the woman’s counterattack but none came. When I realized enough time had passed and no assault was going to come, I quickly ran to my mentor’s side. He was crumpled on the ground with Nagina already kneeled by him, dripping her own blood into his mouth to keep him stable. “I’ve already called for help,” he said. “Do not fret. They will be here any minute now, we’re not far from the capital,” I inferred from this that he must have sent out a telepathic signal. He seldom spoke that way to me, but I knew it was to be expected and nodded as I kept watch.
Fairly soon, I could spot some faint figures through the sandstorm coming our way. Part of me was still shaken and as the first figure came into view, I shot out my arm around his neck and choked him. For a brief moment, I thought I saw the Pashtun woman’s face, but it turned out to be a moment of delusion as an angry Aryan man stared me down. He quickly bared his fangs and glared at me. Realizing the mistake I made, I loosened my grip. The man forcefully pushed my hand off his neck as he snarled at me, “Don’t get so touchy with people trying to help you,” The other figures came into view and moved quickly to haul off Rabbi Singh’s body. Without any more words, they all began walking back in the direction they came from.
“You’d better hurry,” the man carrying Rabbi Singh advised me as I stood there by the ruined wooden heap.
“You don’t want to be caught outdoors when the sun’s about to come up,”
Coordinated assaults against overseas Vajra colonies begin, starting with the attack on Hyderabad.
Bureau Report #229
Agent Moon Hare reporting,
On Interception Mission #09:
Targets:
24 Zealots, (1 Zealot unaccounted for)
2 Elohists; 1 Elder, 1 Neonate
I was a bit careless.
I had almost succeeded in neutralizing the convoy I was tracking for the past six operational hours.
I failed, due to an error in discerning how many Zealots accompanied the two Elohists and one Zealot subsequently witnessed the usage of my ichor gift.
I promptly suffered the backlash and had to retreat, being reduced into a non-capable state.
It was fortunate that the fresh Elohist did not pursue me or else I would have likely not be able to send this report.
They likely escaped the point of encounter as well; although I should note that I reduced the elder Elohist into visibly critical condition.
I am deeply regretful to report this singular mission was a failure.
The total number of intercepted Elohists sits at 17 now.
I await further orders upon my recovery,
Glory to Nü Wa
Agent Moon Hare, over and out.
The printing press was invented sometime during the early stage of the Sino-Vajra War by an enterprising young Nao Caste inventor named Shi Lang.
It helped to disseminate information about the assassination of the Emperor, inflaming already high support for the war effort.
Historians also note that the literacy rate jumped sharply across all sectors of the general population after the printing press was put into use and widely distributed.