CHAPTER ASHBORN 410: WARCRY OF THE ASHFORGED

Ashborn Primordial

Tara watched on as Vaak floated above his army of four thousand, all arranged in neat rows before him. In the distance loomed the timber palisade walls of Vijaya stronghold.

How he managed that feat, to this day, Tara did not know. He’d explained it once, but the very concept of any demon possessing enough prana to levitate, even with the aid of Balancer of Scales broke Tara’s mind. It broke her understanding of reality.

That he was the same Warrior who carried her through the preliminaries still felt like a dream. A dream… And incredibly embarrassing. To think she’d been carried by none other than the Akh Nara himself…

The thought made her blush.

Tara wasn’t normally one for hero worship. Rather, she considered herself something of a pessimist. The gods were myths, useful for inspiration and manipulation, but little more. Yes, they had once been legendary, and to witness their miracles would have undoubtedly been awe-inspiring… But they were all gone now. Mere legends and stories were all that remained of their legacy. Tara wasn’t like the Garga Lavani, prostrating themselves at the mere mention of a name.

No, everyone she respected had earned it. And, she had to admit, the Akh Nara very much had. Vaak was… an enigma, if nothing else. A child who grew up in a realm most didn’t even believe existed. A being who had crossed the entirety of the Ash—a feat most considered impossible. The demon who won against Cirayus, and who was now about to reclaim his clan.

Were it anyone else, Tara would have written off the exercise as foolish. Egomaniacal. And yet, Vaak was the opposite of that, wasn’t he? He possessed not a shred of ego. His soul was… gentle. Humble. And yet, terrifying when he needed to be.

The Akh Nara fascinated Tara to no end. Who was he, really? What parts were an elaborate act? What parts were genuine? Did that line even exist for a being such as him?

In Vaak’s hand was a voice amplification orb similar to the ones used at the Tournament of Champion. When he spoke, the whole army and the base beyond would hear him.

As if the sight of a being most considered a living god was not enough to strike terror into the hearts and minds of even the strongest among them, Tara could tell… The Akh Nara was angry. Furious.

After she heard of the Chits’ dastardly plan and what they had done, kidnapping Janani… Tara was too. She wanted nothing more than to annihilate them, here and now. But the army wasn’t ready. Not nearly. The logistics had yet to be finalized, the troops hadn’t finished their training, and there was a whole mountain of planning for what came next, after the invasion.

And that was the problems everyone else faced. Tara had her own mountain of challenges to overcome… With precious little help. Tara had been given the prestigious position of Chief Medical Officer, in charge of all things healing. That meant organizing the medical facilities and everything from determining and allocating their precious few healers to figuring out where and how the injured would be kept and tended to once the rebellion got underway.

For obvious reasons, she couldn’t just bring them back to Stronghold Vijaya, as much as she desperately wanted to. The prana would be a death sentence. No, she would have to treat the wounded at the camp the Bairans were building. The one that was currently accessible only via a month of travel, or the Gates leading the various chambers in Samar Patag. Chambers that would soon swell with refugees… And which happened to be right in the middle of the soon-to-be-battlefield.

That meant Tara had to have her people rescue downed Warriors from the front lines, bringing back through the Gates, and into Baira, to the relative safety of that camp, before any aid could be administered.

Tara knew better. By the time they brought their people there, it would be too late. As such, she planned to disobey orders and personally attend to the front lines, healing whoever needed it.

“If only Ajji had given me more healers…” Tara grumbled, cursing her grandmother.

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Unlike most other clans, the Panav were not stingy with their healing arts. Nearly everyone of good character and who possessed enough prana capacity received Yuma’s Touch. Those who were deemed exceptional were granted Yuma’s Embrace. One did not need to be a chosen successor of the clan to obtain them.

Which was why Tara was galled that her grandmother had chosen this moment to be stingy, providing hr with a dozen ordinary healers. A dozen! For an army of four thousand! Even ten times that many might not have been enough.

Tara wanted to rip her hair out. She’d been about to ask Vaak to either fly her to Vraj Parah, or to build a Gate there, so she could berate her senile grandmother… when this had happened.

By the look on the Akh Nara’s face, Tara could just about conclude where this was headed. And she didn’t like the implications. Not one bit.

“Uh oh…” Tara breathed as Vaak, no—The Akh Nara—spoke his first words.

“Hear me, Demons of my army.”

He’d made no threats, no bold declarations. Yet even through just his greeting, Tara knew something was about to happen. So did the others, if their shifting and whispers were any sign.

“I have brought you here, to the deepest depths of the Ash, to train you. For the day we overthrow the Chitran and retake what is rightfully ours. For the day we enact justice upon those who so cruelly robbed me of my parents, and you of your kin and country.”

The crowd that had just been shifting uncomfortably stilled, replaced by nods and shouts of affirmation.

“That day was supposed to come soon. It was supposed to come once we had trained ourselves as much as we could. Once the civilians of Samar Patag had been evacuated to safety… I’m afraid to announce that this is no longer possible. I’m afraid that the Chitran not only kidnapped a dear friend and a core contributor to the rebellion… Raja Matiman Chitra has decreed that for each day I live, ten innocent Gargans are to be put to death. Laborers, Outcasts, men, women, and children. None will be spared.”

Tara tasted iron in her mouth. Her simmering anger for the Chitran sparked into a full-blown bonfire, and the total silence from those around her told her the whole army felt exactly as she did.

Despicable wasn’t even close to what the Chitran had done. They had crossed a line, just as they had decades prior. Only this time, they had an Ashforged army to challenge them.

“And so, my brothers and sisters… I’m afraid I am given no other choice. I must call upon your brave souls sooner than I hoped. I know we are not ready, and yet, I refuse to abandon our kin in Samar Patag. I understand that this request comes at an inopportune time. That you may be worried about your chances in the upcoming war… And so, I say this now. Those of you who wish to remain in the Ash and continue to train… I will not stop you.”

Tara groaned. What was he saying? He was their supreme commander! Commanders didn’t make requests of their troops! They ordered them! Tara searched for Cirayus. The Ravager was the only one capable of stopping his madness. He was the only one who could talk sense into the Akh Nara… And yet, the legendary warrior was nowhere to be found.

Tara cursed her luck. It was too late. The words had been uttered… The damage done. At least the Garga Lavani would stay. The cultists would follow the Akh Nara to Mahādi, even knowing it was certain death. Tara was confident of that… but they numbered barely a thousand. Barely a fourth of their fighting power.

“Those of you who wish to stay, return to camp. You can aid Malik with logistics and organization. But… If you can find it in your hearts to oblige, your presence will be greatly appreciated.”

Tara knew it was all over when the demons to her left and right… started chuckling. Just a few, at first, but like a virus, it spread through their company, then to the battalion, then to the whole army. Soon, the entire field was bathed in laughter.

Tara frowned. Were they ridiculing the Akh Nara? Or…

Her question was answered mere moments later.

For not a single demon—not one—left their ranks. Instead, a chant erupted. A battlecry—more of a hooting, early—that spread like Ashfire through the ranks, until the entire army was banging their shields and driving their boots and the butts of their polearms into the soot. Thumping rhythmically.

Hu! Hu hu! Hu! Hu hu!

Tara thought it was ridiculous. With such blind devotion, so many would die in just a few hours. The Ashforged, they called themselves, as though the title somehow made them invincible.

Though, she had to admit, their cause was worthy, and with a leader like Vaak…

He was even younger than her. He’d grown up without resources or guidance, and yet, he now led entire armies to battle. He would restore the Garga and reunite the realms.

And where was she? Just a girl too scared to fulfill her destiny. Too afraid to take the reins and do what must be done for her people.

That momentary lapse of judgment was all it had taken. For, somehow. Somewhere in all of that chanting, Tara’s body betrayed her. By the time she realized it, she was chanting right alongside the rest.

Tara resisted at first but quickly realized it was futile when she turned around to find her small corps of healers all shouting and hooting as well.

Oh well, Tara thought. Might as well join them.

Though she would be far too embarrassed to admit it, deep down, she did adore the Akh Nara. Deep down, somewhere, she knew he was a living god. A living god who had the full support of another deity.

In Tara’s mind, the matter was clear. For, prophecy or not, there could be only one outcome. Gods simply did not lose.