Death sprang down from the chariot. “Fare thee well.”
“Thou also.”
They crossed the place of carnage, each in his own fashion.
He climbed the small rise, his red leather boots soundless on the turf.
He swept his scarlet cloak back over his right shoulder and surveyed the thunder chariot.
“It was damaged by the lightnings.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
He looked back toward the tail assembly, at the one who had spoken.
His armor shone like bronze, but it was not bronze.
It was worked about with the forms of many serpents.
He wore the horns of a bull upon his burnished helm, and in his left hand he held a gleaming trident.
“Brother Agni, you have come up in the world.”
“I am no longer Agni, but Shiva, Lord of Destruction.”
“You wear his armor upon a new body and you carry his trident. But none could master the trident of Shiva so quickly. This is why you wear the white gauntlet on your right hand, and the goggles upon your brow.”
Shiva reached up and lowered the goggles over his eyes.
“It is true, I know. Throw away your trident, Agni. Give me your glove and your wand, your belt and your goggles.”
He shook his head.
“I respect your power, deathgod, your speed and your strength, your skill. But you stand too far away for any of these to aid you now. You cannot come at me but I will burn you before you reach me here. Death, you shall die.”
He reached for the wand at his belt.
“You seek to turn the gift of Death against its giver?” The blood-red scimitar came into his hand as he spoke.
“Good-bye, Dharma. Your days are come to an end.”
He drew the wand.
“In the name of a friendship which once existed,” said the one in red, “I will give you your life if you surrender to me.”
The wand wavered.
“You killed Rudra to defend the name of my wife.”
“It was to preserve the honor of the Lokapalas that I did it. Now I am God of Destruction, and one with the Trimurti!”
He pointed the fire wand, and Death swirled his scarlet cloak before him.
There came a flash of light so blinding that two miles away upon the walls of Keenset the defenders saw it and wondered.
The invaders had entered Keenset. There were fires now, screams, and the blows of metal upon wood, metal upon metal.
The Rakasha pushed down buildings upon the invaders with whom they could not close. The invaders as well as the defenders were few in number. The main bodies of both forces had perished upon the plains.
Sam stood atop the highest tower of the Temple and stared down into the falling city.
“I could not save you, Keenset,” he stated. “I tried, but was not sufficient.”
Far below, in the street, Rudra strung his bow.
Seeing him, Sam raised his lance.
The lightnings fell upon Rudra and the arrow exploded in their midst.
When the air cleared, where Rudra had been standing there was now a small crater in the center of a space of charred ground.
Lord Vayu appeared upon a distant rooftop and called forth the winds to fan the flames. Sam raised his lance once more, but then a dozen Vayus stood upon a dozen rooftops.
“Mara!” said Sam. “Show yourself. Dreamer! It you dare!”
There was laughter all around him.
“When I am ready, Kalkin,” came the voice, out of the smoky air, “I will dare. The choice, though, is mine to make. . .. Are you not dizzy? What would happen if you were to cast yourself down toward the ground? Would the Rakasha come to bear you up? Would your demons save you?”
Lightnings fell upon all the buildings near the Temple then, but above the noise came the laughter of Mara. It faded away into the distance as fresh fires crackled.
Sam seated himself and watched the city burn. The sounds of fighting died down and ceased. There was only flame.
A sharp pain came and went in his head. Then it came and would not go. Then it racked his entire body, and he cried out.