Page 60 of Her Soul for a Crown

The deeper into the caves they traveled, the slicker Reeri’s palms grew. Though a human bargain with the Kattadiya was not the best plan, it would have to do. For his family. For Anula.

“Why did you choose her?” Premala asked as she led him around yet another corner in the vast tunnel system. The narrow passage pressed against his wide shoulders, the abrasive ceiling on his head. Even the air felt thin and constrained.

“Anula?” He panted.

“You said you had a plan for a while, so how did she end up in it?”

Moisture leaked from the walls. Reeri dared not consider whether it was blood or what the Kattadiya truly did in the darkness… “She made an offering the Heavens could not resist.”

A smile cracked the acolyte’s face. “Of course she did.”

Grateful for the distraction, he wiped his palms on his already-damp tunic and told their story, from his plans to hers, the bargain, and their shaky start. “I fell in love with her soul, as a bird falls in love with a song.”

Premala was quiet, contemplative. Else she was terrified into silence at the notion of a human and a Blood Yakka having anything but a bargain betwixt them.

On the next turn, light grew as they emerged into a wide connection point.

The statue of the Divinity of Mercy peered down.

Their bronze vase poured out a never-ending stream of clear water into a pool at their feet.

The sight brought images of Anula’s light streaming out of her body, the scent of her death, and the threat it brought to his heart.

His shadow writhed, but he clamped it down. Help was the only way he would save his family, and Premala was the only one willing. Mighty Heavens, it had to be enough.

“You found him,” a voice said, thick with surprise. The guruthuma stepped out from behind the statue. Four others flanked her. “Exceptional work, acolyte. I admit I did not think you capable. Perhaps you have a place here after all.”

Premala stilled, mouth half-open betwixt shock and fear.

“Restrain him!”

The Kattadiya pounced; one held a drum menacingly. Reeri tensed, yet the girl at his side launched herself before him. “Wait! I made a truce.”

“I beg your pardon?” the guruthuma hissed. It shivered down Reeri’s shadow.

“They aren’t here to end us,” Premala said, then explained it all, emphasizing his intention of ending Wessamony’s scourge and crediting him with saving her from enemy hands.

“Lies,” the guruthuma spat, eyes narrowed and frown fixed.

Reeri took a step back, ready to run. This Kattadiya would not see as Premala. Hatred clouded like a gathering storm.

“N—no they aren’t.” Premala wrung her hands. “Besides, Anula has the relic, and Polonnaruwa has her. She needs our help.”

“Our duty is to the First Heavens, not to some consort and surely not to a Yakka.” She pointed at Reeri. “Take him to the pit!”

Reeri spun—and tripped as a long drumbeat echoed out a meter. Three pairs of hands caught him.

“Wait!” Premala shouted.

They yanked at his arms, his shoulders, his waist, until they had fastened him tight with rope.

Memory-nightmares crept fast. “Premala,” he called out.

“Wait, please!”

“We had a deal.” His voice wavered as the Kattadiya dragged him deeper into the caves. Strong hands made stronger by faith.

The guruthuma’s whisper chilled his bones. “Kattadiya do not make bargains.”

***

Thrown inside the amphitheater, Reeri stumbled over loose rocks. The scent of iron and burnt cloth cloyed in his mouth as he took in the brown stains of dried blood smeared across the floor. His pulse beat swift as the beat of the drum ended and the revelation of his situation dawned.

“Premala,” Reeri murmured again. It was one thing to be attacked with a tovil, his shadow ripped out of Darubhatika and sent spiraling for a new host. Time would have been wasted, but not compared to this.

If Wessamony had taught Reeri anything, it was that torture was never quick.

The acolyte wrung her hands for the hundredth time. It did not release Reeri from his bindings, nor liberate him from the hole, nor remove the terrifying masks that now adorned the three Kattadiya.

“I don’t think this is necessary,” Premala whispered. All confidence disappeared on stale air.

“That is why you are an acolyte and I am the guruthuma. Now hush.” The woman lifted her chin as she circled the pit. “Yakka, I know of your powers and your bargain with the consort. Invoke your oath with Anula, bring her and the relic here.”

“Our connection does not function that way. I do not control her. I doubt anything could.”

The guruthuma raised a brow to the Kattadiya with the drum. “Begin, Sandani.”

“Wait!” Premala stepped toward the other girl.

“Heed her, and join the Yakka in the pit,” the guruthuma seethed. “Your banishment will reach the beaches of the island, to die alone on the sand.”

Sandani hesitated, sharing a look with Premala. Then slowly, she sat, crossed her legs, and struck the first tone. The sound came before the sting. Reeri seized. The dark marking on his chest shivered and bit into his skin.

“This won’t get us the relic,” Premala blurted. “If—if we could get to the inner city—”

“Silence!” the guruthuma said. “Yakka, call Anula here with the relic!”

“I cannot.” He would not, even if he could.

Boom.

Pain flared, sizzling up his markings and sending a bolt through his chest. His knees smashed into the rocks, adding fresh blood to the cave floor.

Boom.

It lashed at his shadow.

Boom.

As if it were Wessamony and his whip.

Boom.

Reeri landed on all fours.

“This is your fault,” the guruthuma said.

A muscle twitched along Reeri’s jaw. He glanced at the rocks beneath him.

The guruthuma scoffed. “Already seeking a way to kill us? I expect nothing less of you, Yakka. You are but pure evil. If you had not brought the Yakkas here, people would not be suffering. Anula would not have been cursed. You have destroyed all you touched.”

The words slid down his spine, curled around his throat, and tightened like a noose.

Centuries ago this island had been blanketed in blood.

It covered his hands. He had acted for personal gain, at the behest of humans, and even after centuries of guilt and shame, he had still returned only to cleave Anula’s soul.

But he had not. He had changed his mind.

Because he saw which were his mistakes and which were not.

And without the burden of blame, he could easily see where to draw the line.

He was no monster, and he would not be convinced that he was. Not again.

“No,” he grunted.

“Everything bad in this world can be traced back to you.”

He laughed, dark and low. “You cannot break me, Guruthuma, or force me to abandon myself. Wessamony already did that, and Anula has put me back together.”

She grinned, sharp and wild. “You forget the Kattadiya have the might of the First Heavens.”

“I could never forget that.”

Images flashed. First of Ratti flying through the air and Yakkas doubled over in suffering, snapping back to their shrines. Then of the call the Kattadiya made to cause the descent of the Lord—

“Bring. Her. Here.” The guruthuma stood at the lip of the pit, eyes blazing. Reeri held her fury, accepted her challenge. She pointed at Sandani—

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The sound struck his shadow like lightning. The world shattered, and bile choked up his throat.

“Guruthuma Hashini, please! We’re wasting time. He’s not a threat. He hasn’t done anything to deserve this. He wants what we want: to get the relic and to keep everyone safe.”

“I said silence!”

“But if he could do it without us, he’d never have come here.”

The guruthuma whirled. “You believe his lies.”

“I—I believe he didn’t have to offer to work with us.”

“You have been taken in by them.”

“No.”

The beat cut off. Heaving, Reeri craned his neck to see Premala tossing the drum across the room.

The guruthuma’s anger flared. “Are you a Kattadiya or not?”

The girl flinched.

“Call her, now!” The guruthuma rounded on Reeri.

Yet he dared to not respond and kept his gaze on Premala instead. She was no monster either.

“Save them,” he croaked. “Kill Wessamony.”

“Do not speak to her! For Heavens’ sake, Sandani, fetch the drum!”

Before Sandani could strike another chord and send him into oblivion, Reeri saw a figure wringing her hands.

And slipping out the cave door.

***

The drum beat, the women chanted, and time dragged on. Reeri’s shadow twisted as it broke through skin a sixth, seventh, eighth—

The guruthuma cut the tovil off once again, right on the cusp of freeing him. Sweat slipped down his arms, and as his shadow snapped back inside Darubhatika. He retched.

“You are stubborn, Yakka,” the guruthuma spat.

“You are no Heavenly gift yourself.” His voice was grating and raw.

They had an audience now. The stairs filled with the faithful, dressed in beaded fabrics, ready at the call. Though their numbers had dwindled since he last saw them—a mere forty instead of hundreds—they stood staunchly still, condemning him once again.

The guruthuma scoffed. Reeri eyed her, the way she held her hand out to Sandani, purposeful and just, the way she circled, a smile of satisfaction curling wider with each strike of the drum. It reminded him of someone.

“Did the Divinities grant you this room?”

“I will hear no vitriol from your lips, Yakka. Call Anula.”

“I cannot.” He would not.

A hand swung, a tone echoed, and Reeri’s shadow convulsed. Yet the anger in her eyes flashed anew. Not for Anula or the relic, but from his words.

“They do not know of this place, do they?” he rasped.

Only the chanting continued.

It drew his laugh. “I am right.”

Feet shifted on stone. Unease filtered through the gathered Kattadiya at their guruthuma’s lack of answer. Mayhap they had never questioned it. Mayhap they did so silently. He would bring it to life so that she would bring him to death. Shadow freed, he would find Anula.

“It reminds me of home.” Reeri watched not the drum, but the women. “After banishment, the court of the Second Heavens became a torture chamber. Did your Divinities tell you? Yakkas’ shadows are chained to the walls. Though Wessamony does not have the pleasure of a pit.”

A chill spread down the stairs.

“This room might be a gift from the Second Heavens, not the First. After all, it was Wessamony’s anger that banished us. The Kattadiya led him to discover our treason, did they not? He must have owed a great deal to you.”

“Silence!” The guruthuma sneered. “You are a worm. A maggot that feasts on death. Your bargainers do not follow you out of faith but fear.”

Reeri smirked. “A position you know well.”

He looked to those gathered; so did the guruthuma. The air shifted, and not one of her Kattadiya dared meet her gaze. Caught betwixt fear and anger, she raised her hand to Sandani, and Reeri could nearly taste the release.

Pain, white and blinding, struck him.

Yet there had been no drumbeat. Still, strips of red flesh peeled from his body. He choked. The mehendhi was tearing itself free. But it did not fly toward Anula; it did not fly at all. It ripped from him and turned to ash.

Cursed blessings.

The tether was breaking. Anula’s bargain was timing out. The moon must be rising, the Maha Equinox beginning.

His bargain with Lord Wessamony was coming due.