“Tonight. But Dalissa will be here sooner. Even now, I feel her approaching.”
“Dalissa? Who . . . ?”
“The last of the Mothers of the Terrible Glow. She alone escaped into the depths when Durga and Lord Kalkin rode to the dome by the sea. All her eggs were smashed and she can lay no more, but she bears within her body the burning power of the sea-glow.”
“And you think she would aid me?”
“She would aid no other. She is the last of her kind. She will only assist a peer.”
“Then know that the one who was known as Durga now wears the body of Brahma, chief among our enemies.”
“Yes, which makes both of you men. She might have taken the other side, had Kali remained a woman. But she has committed herself now. You were her choice.”
“That helps to even things a bit.”
“The Rakasha herd elephants and slizzards and great cats at this time, to drive against our enemies.”
“Good.”
“And they summon fire elementals.”
“Very good.”
“Dalissa is near here now. She will wait at the bottom of the river, to rise up when she is needed.”
“Say hello to her for me,” said Sam, turning to re-enter his tent.
“I will.”
He dropped the flap behind him.
When the God of Death came down out of the sky onto the plains beside the Vedra, Taraka of the Rakasha set upon him in the form of a great cat out of Kaniburrha.
But immediately he fell back. The demon repellant lay upon Yama, and Taraka could not close with him because of it.
The Rakasha swirled away, dropping the cat form he had assumed, to become a whirlwind of silver motes.
“Deathgod!” the word exploded in Yama’s head. “Remember Hellwell?”
Immediately, rocks and stones and sandy soil were sucked up into the vortex and hurled across the air toward Yama, who swirled his cloak and muffled his eyes with its hem, but did not otherwise stir.
After a time, the fury died.
Yama had not moved. The ground about him was strewn with debris, but none lay near him.
Yama lowered his cloak and glared into the whirlwind.
“What sorcery is this?” came the words. “How is it you manage to stand?”
Yama continued to stare at Taraka. “How is it you manage to swirl?” he asked.
“I am greatest among the Rakasha. I bore your death-gaze before.”
“And I am greatest among the gods. I stood against your entire legion at Hellwell.”
“You are a lackey to Trimurti.”
“You are wrong. I have come here to fight against Heaven, in this place, in the name of Accelerationism. Great is my hatred, and I have brought weapons to be used against Trimurti.”
“Then I suppose I must forego the pleasure of continuing our combat at this time . . .”
“I should deem it advisable.”
“And you doubtless wish to be taken to our leader?”
“I can find my own way.”
“Then, until we meet again. Lord Yama. . .”
“Good-bye, Rakasha.”
Taraka shot like a burning arrow into the heavens and was gone from sight.
Some say that Yama had solved his case as he stood there in the great birdcage, amidst the darkness and the droppings. Others say that he duplicated Kubera’s reasoning a short while later, using the tapes in the Vasty Hall of Death. Whichever it was, when he entered the tent on the plains by the Vedra he greeted the man inside with the name Sam. This man laid his hand upon his blade and faced him.
“Death, you precede the battle,” he said.
“There has been a change,” Yama replied.
“What sort of change?”
“Position. I have come here to oppose the will of Heaven.”
“In what way?”
“Steel. Fire. Blood.”
“Why this change?”
“Divorces are made in Heaven. And betrayals. And shamings. The lady has gone too far, and I know now the reason, Lord Kalkin. I neither embrace your Accelerationism nor do I reject it. Its only mattering to me is that it represents the one force in the world to oppose Heaven. I will join you, with this understanding, if you will accept my blade.”