Ashborn Primordial-Chapter Ashborn 388: Jalak Kallol

The entrance to the secret Iksana stronghold boasted no gate, nor any gilded archway.

No, it was nothing more than a hole. A hole that led into a deep, dark chute. With scarcely a pause, and certainly no instruction, Raja Sagun’Ra dove into the chute, clearly expecting Vir to follow.

A glance to Ashani confirmed she was ready, and so Vir nodded to Shan, who barely restrained himself.

The moment the order was given, the Ashfire wolf dove into the chute, sprinting at top speed. He was followed by four of his brethren—the rest stood watch over Saunak’s airship.

Vir was next, diving in, followed by the goddess, who somehow managed to make the undignified act of sliding butt-first down a chute look elegant.

The chute twisted and turned, and there were no lights. Why would there be? The Iksana’s Sight had no need for them.

There were, however, prana lamps embedded at regular intervals. Lamps that, other than Vir, Ashani, and the wolves, no foreigner could see. Lamps that were as much art as they were functional, signifying ancillary chutes that went off to distant places.

Vir stuck to the primary, as did everyone else.

The choice proved correct, as after a minute-long harrowing ride, it finally dumped them onto cold, black rock.

It was the temperature that Vir noticed first, once he’d confirmed that the wolves were all safe. Cooler, by several degrees, and more humid.

The second was the lighting. The mid-sized domed room was not illuminated by any normal lantern or magic lamp.

Purple. The room was bathed in the colors of the Iksana, and the Iksana’s flag was painted across the peak of the dome. An all-seeing white eye with a brown iris, all on a gray background.

It was Vir’s first time laying eyes on the flag. Unlike the other clans, the Iksana did not wear their patriotism openly, preferring to keep such things close to their heart.

White, brown, gray. The three affinities that compose their bloodline arts. Life, Earth, and Shadow.

It was all Vir had the time to take in before Ashani appeared behind him, landing gracefully on her legs as though she weighed nothing. Vir knew first hand this wasn’t true—the Imperium Automaton was a fair bit heavier than any being of flesh and blood—but she always had a way of carrying herself as though she weighed nothing. Vir chalked it up to the experience of years.

“This way,” Sagun’Ra said, appearing from a nearby shadow.

There were plenty of those, Vir observed. It was as though the place was designed to cast as many hard shadows as possible. Knowing the Iksana, Vir wouldn’t be surprised if that were indeed the case.

They’d walked through a half-dozen halls in silence when the Iksana Raja suddenly spoke, his voice echoing off the cold, dark rock.

“You seek Clarity,” he said, more a statement than a question.

Vir contemplated his next words carefully. While the Raja was not currently powering Clarity, Vir knew better than to underestimate him. Sagun’Ra was old. Almost as old as Cirayus himself, if rumors were to be believed. Not even Vir’s godfather knew the ancient demon’s age. According to Cirayus, he’d suddenly appeared one day, already old and weathered.

Since then, he’d led his clan to prosperity, ushering in a golden era for the Iksana, even through the most trying of times. If any clan had benefited from the Chitran’s coup, it would have to be the Iksana. Their information-gathering skills had been put on full display, and it was only because of the Iksana that the Chitran were able to wrest victory from the Garga. Even armed with the combined might of the allied clans, Cirayus was confident they would have failed, were it not for the Iksana’s spies.

And Sagun’Ra had spearheaded it all.

The head of the snake, Vir thought darkly. The enabler of my enemy.

And yet, to pigeonhole the Iksana was to fail to understand them. Vir knew enough of Ekanai to know that much, at the very least. Iksana culture was secretive by nature, mysterious, and multi-faceted. To say their society was the most complex—the most advanced of all the demonic demon clans—might very well be an understatement.

And so, Vir told the truth.

“Yes, I do,” he said. “But it is not all that I seek…”

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He paused, hoping the Iksana Raja would take the bait. Vir had received special training over the past weeks. From the Ravager, yes, but also from Tara, of all people. She was strangely well versed in politics, possessing a silver tongue and a knack for guiding the flow of conversations. According to her, political competency was all about gaining the upper hand.

Vir might still be a beginner, but he knew that volunteering secrets was not the way to success.

Unfortunately, his opponent was a seasoned veteran. Iksana awkwardness only helped, in this case.

Ra remained silent, allowing Vir’s question to go unanswered until Vir could take no more, and continued.

“I wish for cooperation, Ra,” Vir said, somewhat annoyed, despite himself. “I wish to build a long-standing relationship with you and your clan. One based on mutual trust and respect.”

“Respect!” The Iksana barked, almost shouting the word as it echoed off the tunnel’s halls. “Tell me, little one. What have you done to earn the Iksana’s respect, hmm?”

Vir’s expression darkened. Whoever said Ra was off his rocker couldn’t have been more wrong. He knew how to play this game, alright. By calling Vir a ‘little one’, he hinted at his age, demeaning Vir, labeling him as inexperienced.

The worst part? He was. Vir didn’t even have a twentieth of the old Raja’s experience. He was a goldfish in a tank full of prana sharks. He’d struggle to argue with a normal demon, let alone anyone as eccentric as Sagun’Ra, legendary Raja of the Iksana.

“You’re right,” Vir said, cutting off all airs. “You’re right, Ra. I don’t know how to play this game, and quite frankly, I don’t care to. I won’t. Because none of that matters. You know what does matter, though? The lives of my clan. The slaves the Chitran have made of my people! Demons who are in chains because of you. Because of your Iksana intelligence. So, yes, Sagun’Ra. I want Clarity. I want power. I want to right the wrongs that you and all the other Rajas have wrought upon this realm. No, I do not wish to rule over you. No, I do not seek revenge. I wasn’t raised that way. But mark my words, Ra. I will liberate my clan, and if you get in my way, you will regret it. I will make you regret it.”

Vir took a deep breath.

Why did I say that!? he thought. Blood rushed to his head and his heart rate quickened. Seric, Vir. You had one chance, and you had to go and blow it. Pure grakking seric.

Even the wolves stiffened, sensing something was wrong. Ashani gripped her rod a little tighter, and Vir bent his legs, preparing for battle.

And then... Sagun’Ra clapped. He clapped, and he laughed, his raspy voice echoing off the tunnels, sounding like it originated from everywhere.

“Finally!” he said. “This realm may yet have a chance. Now come.”

The Raja said nothing further as he led them through the maze of twisting halls. Until it all ended, revealing the treasure of the Iksana.

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The Sanctum Sanctorum. The more sacred site of the clan, witnessed only by those born within, and to the few others lucky enough to receive an invitation.

“Welcome,” Sagun’Ra said, “to Jalak Kallol. Sudden Emergence of the Waves.”

If that explanation was supposed to impart any meaning, Vir failed to grasp it. He scarcely had the time to. For the sight before him took his breath away.

The cavern in which Jalak Kallol was so vast that the word felt entirely inadequate. Easily ten times the size of the Bairan stadium, its upper reaches extended so far, it may as well have touched the sky.

Except there was no sky this far underground.

What boggled Vir’s mind, however, was not its scale, or even the fact that the Iksana had somehow managed to light the entire place.

No, it was the city suspended in midair, cradled in a web of spun spider’s silk, its thousands upon thousands of buildings, each glowing shades of purple, like tiny flies caught in the spider’s trap.

No, not a web. Vir realized. Rock!

The Iksana had somehow carved, or stretched, the rock of the cavern, making it appear like an intricate web of spider silk. It was upon this web, easily a thousand paces in the air, that the capital city of the Iksana sat, glowing a deep, rich purple.

“How?” Vir asked.

“Most overestimate what one demon can achieve in a day,” Sagun’Ra rasped, gazing upon the city with obvious pride. “And most underestimate what ten thousand can achieve in a century. Jalak Kallol? Many centuries. Many lives. The combined effort. One vision. The crystallization of a dream.”

“It’s… beautiful,” Vir said, feeling himself moved, nearly to tears. “I have seen the workings of the Prime Imperium. I have seen cities of the Gods. This... This is no less impressive.”

“I concur,” a melodic voice said. It was Ashani, gazing up at the structure in awe. “This accomplishment… Without Imperium magitech… It’s stunning.”

Sagun’Ra turned, giving the goddess an appraising glance, but remained silent. It was clear as day he wished to ask a million questions about Ashani, but doing so would give Vir leverage, and he knew it. He couldn’t ask. Not until they’d established some ground rules first.

“This Trial,” Vir said, pointing up to the center of the cradle web, to the spot that shone brightest, glowing like a miniature sun. “Is it up there?”

“The origin?” Ra said. “No. Not there. Blasphemy. Only the ordained may step foot there. Only I. The next Raja. And so on.”

“Oh. I see,” Vir said, somewhat downcast. What mysteries did this Cradle hold? He could only hope to learn its secrets one day.

I suppose that will depend on the outcome of this meeting, Vir thought.

“Can you tell me anything about this Trial?” he asked. “What is it?”

Sagun’Ra grinned—or was it a sneer? Vir sometimes found it hard to tell with the Iksana. “Everything! Forged by the Akh Nara. The only true Akh Nara. The Coming of Age. All Iksana undergo.”

“Then... You don’t believe I am who I claim to be?” Vir asked with a frown, trying to decipher the Raja’s odd mannerisms as best he could.

“No. Not the Akh Nara. Not yet. But you could be. Come. The Trial Awaits.”

Vir gulped and made to follow, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to do this,” Ashani whispered. “I sense grave danger ahead. You do not need their art. Just get them to agree to remain neutral. Once I tell them who I am—”

“No,” Vir said, gently removing her hand. “I refuse to use you like that. For what? So that I might avoid a bit of risk?”

Ashani frowned in concern. “Need I remind you that—”

”That I nearly died? No, Ashani, you don’t. I remember. If you see anything, intercept and end the trial. Send the wolves after me. But until then, this is something I must do. To gain his respect. His trust. If I don’t…”

“He will forever spurn you,” Ashani said, biting her lip. “I understand. Go, then. But go with both eyes open.”

Vir returned her feelings with a warm smile. “Always.”

Then he turned and followed Ra. Come what may, the future of Vir’s relationship with the Iksana hinged on the next moments.

He only prayed he had what it took.