"Whoa! Watch out!"

Ashwant grabbed my jacket and veered me down behind the hardened pile of snow. His sudden reaction made me drop on my knees and I grunted when I felt my skin getting scraped against the snow.

The narrow edge of the mountain was filled with hard, rock-like snow mounds. The sky was clear, with the sun peeking down through the summit. Air, icy yet bearable. The warbling sounds of the snow buntings were giving an effect of the spring season. It was one of those mornings that had made me feel ready for the day, although only until we were attacked. I spun around my knees to check on the thing that was hurled at us as a mere threaten to take another step ahead.

It was a typical stone mace, thin at the handle and spherical at the top bearing the sharp spikes all over it.

"Stop! We come in peace," Ashwant said to someone standing at the other side of the heap of snow, someone that was hidden from my sight. He then stared for a few minutes, face straight and expressionless and then slumped his shoulders down before beckoning me to walk over.

"What was that!" I asked, quite irritably.

"Be absolutely attentive," he warned, turning towards me. "This is Pizaca's territory. They are brainless, memoryless, stupidest ogres ever found on earth. They are good only as guards. They have a language of their own and very few of them speak English. And you're lucky enough that Sir Pizaca himself can."

"Thanks for telling me this now," I said, sharply. "Why did that ogre throw his mace at us?"

"Hayden, listen," he said, "I am a Matsyasvi. Pizaca and I are related, so I am allowed inside. You are not one of us. They attack anyone who they don't find as one of us. Understand?"

I grimaced. "So what now, am I not allowed inside? And how come you didn't tell me this earlier?"

He phrased the answer as a sarcastic taunt. "Because you'll keep thinking about this matter which isn't worth the time. I hate to say this, but you've taken the right decision to have me travel with you for this job. I can help you persuade Sir Pizaca to give us the other part of the dagger."

"No!" I protested, "I want to talk to him."

He wetted his dry lips. "I am only saying that I'm not going to leave you alone this time. That jerk for an originator needs someone to put him in his place."

"All these days we've spent talking rubbish. Don't you think I could have used a bit more information about him and make a plan to get the Spine outta him?"

He pulled a face. "Just like I said, it isn't worth thinking too much about it. Walk beside me, act innocent and stay absolutely calm. Don't let the ogres find the slightest hint of trouble."

Down the slope was the wide range of suburb filled with huts built with stones. A single beacon fire marked the entrance. The rest of them were tall and thick logs of fire dug deep into the ground, with flames flickering in the gentle blow of the wind. The place wasn't much of a looker. It was dull and gloomy, yet a bit mysterious in somber sense of black, grey and brown.

I spotted the ogre that threw the mace at us. He was walking towards one of the huts and kept turning back once in a while giving us sneaky glances. Ashwant accompanying me seemed to be the only reason for him to let me ease down the alley amidst the huts.

The ogres were coming out of their huts and eyed us suspiciously. The growling sounds, the menacing stares followed me all the way down to the foothill. Some of these ogres were frying meat and while the others lounged on corners in groups. They were all equally large, bulky and ugly, face pimply and full of rashes. There was barely any difference between the male and female, except the female ones had longer and rounder lashes reaching up to their bushy brows.

"Almost there," Ashwant said, pointing at the direction that was the end of the alley.

Right within a hundred paces, from the point where we were standing, was a thin icy moat encompassing a small stone-built castle. It could be regarded as a hut built for a baby ogre. Only the four high towers around the castle enriched its look. I felt wavering between my hesitancy to enter the castle that was only as tall as double my height, and my curiosity to attain the other part of the Pride. Seeing how large the ogres were, this particular castle seemed to barely fit half of their bodies.

Ashwant was given permission to enter way easier than I had thought. The wooden drawbridge led us to the portcullis. Being narrow and tottering, it made an unpleasant rumbling sound as we stepped on the bridge. It swung suddenly, perhaps wasn't able to handle the weight of both of us combined. Having a bit of a hint that it was on the verge to collapse, Ashwant and I raced through it. Gladly, it wasn't a long one, and we landed on the other side of the moat within moments.

Portcullis rolled open and we stepped into the narrow yawning interior. The smell in the air suddenly changed from lemony to fresh and odorless. Ashwant seemed to have noticed this shift that he raised his eyebrows in mock disbelief, and his expression stated his urgency to leave this place as soon as possible.

The entrance was only a small gap between the two walls but wide enough for an average man to pass through. Broad sunlight that was outside now had dimmed. The whole gloomy hall of the castle was filled with a massive number of reinforced stone pillars bolstering the roof lost in darkness. Ashwant and I walked up front. The castle that had looked tiny from the outside, seemed like a vast mammoth cave from inside. And that intimidated me a bit. Sunlight almost diminished as we reached a point which was the absolute centermost.

Then there were rustling and pattering sounds coming from the interiors of the pillars. I let out a gasp, looking here and there in search of Sir Pizaca if he was here.

"It's alright," Ashwant whispered, yet it sounded demanding, "Just wait for him to appear."

"Would you mind if I use some light?" I asked, "It's way too dark and I'd love to look into his face when I talk."

"That's fine."

I lit my fingers, hoping to see her in my mind. She did appear and it surprised me to find her disturbed, sweating profoundly concealing her nervousness etched on her face.

"Don't believe him!" she said and then disappeared within a snap.

Her shrill voice had me frowned. My mind stayed stuck on her that I almost failed to sense the resounding thump, like that of a running elephant. It was faint at the beginning. Ashwant, who was standing a little far away, turned back and walked towards me. He was gaping from above my shoulder, his eyes slightly enlarged. I followed his sight and the sound then increased its intensity with every passing second. I lifted my hand up to have a clear picture, but then the sound suddenly died.

Silence hung in the air for several minutes, everything beneath the roof holding its breath. All of a sudden, the thumping resumed, growing louder and louder. Coming closer and closer, right towards us. Ashwant and I instinctively stepped back.

The variety of sounds followed, echoing everywhere. A hysteric giggle of an infant, as though the backside of its feet getting tickled. The blowing of the raspberry, that sounded like someone sitting on a pot, suffering from constipation. And the rolling tongues creating sounds of pulling a zipper up and down. A deep shadow came into our sight. Although, it kept emerging and disappearing from pillar to pillar.

"Idiot," Ashwant muttered under his breath and then raised his voice to sound loud and gentlemanly. "S...Sir Pizaca, can we please have a pleasure to talk with you?"

The sounds faded and stopped altogether. A small flame appeared from behind one of the pillars, it was tiny and then gradually grew larger. A face peeked out, the orange hue of the flame revealing his features. It was definitely an ogre, seeing all those pimples on his cheeks. But there was no way he was a thousand-year-old legendary originator. He reminded me of a five-year-old kid.

Then his whole body came out from behind the pillar, and my suspicion was still absolute. He was extremely small and thin unlike any of the ogres. His feet like that of a chicken with not more than three toes on each foot. His body was covered with a shabby piece of cloth. He was holding the lantern, flames flickering as he took aimless and feeble steps towards us. In his other hand, he held a spoon sized mace.

Coming closer, he looked up at me, throwing his head behind as if looking at the summit of the mountain from its base. He kept the lantern down beside the nearest pillar and continued gazing with narrowed eyes. He beckoned as a cue to ask me to get closer. On Ashwant's nod, I sat on my single knee and bent a little low.

Smack!

Seeing black dots, I tumbled aside but quickly balanced by placing my hand on the stony ground. I slightly shook my head and only then I realized that Sir Pizaca had slapped me. What a way to say hello.

"Sir," Ashwant said, kneeling down and having his hands up as a gesture to stop him from slapping me again, "He is a human but completely harmless."

He was tiny, but the blow was hard enough to give me a concussion. Everything beneath my ear burnt with severe pain. My head was still swirling. It took a moment to get rid of those back dots blotching my vision.

"Liar," Pizaca said, "Cornelian Samagraha, he is. His hands on fire, I see. Matsyasvi told me, he was coming."

His voice was brittle and delicate like the chime of silver bells.

"Yes. That's right," Ashwant said, "Still completely harmless."

"Didn't utter a word since I hit," he said. "Must be mute."

"No, I'm not!" I said, trying not to get offended. I looked at him and sat back straight up on my knee. "And it's true. I don't mean any harm, Sir. I'm here for..."

"The part of the dagger, I have. Matsyasvi told me that too."

I nodded. "So, Lady Matsyasvi must have told you why I need it, didn't she?"

His dark eyes eerily protruded out, thin sleek hair spouted out of his nose. "Haima sent you to fetch it, didn't she? That wench!"

Ashwant slightly tilted his head, glancing sideways at me. I gaped at the ogre sitting numb for a second. "S...sorry?" I asked.

"Found a substitute, hasn't she?"

I gently shook my head. "I have no idea who you are talking about."

He vented his anger by snarling the name that had me cringed since I'd heard for the very first time. "Haimavati Roksana!" His voice, still childlike yet it raised the hair at the back of my neck, "Now using you to kill my brother and escalate this rivalry among my siblings. Isn't she?"

The flames of the lantern flickered violently, creating strange shadows of the three of us against the pillars. No matter how hard I tried to mull over, I still had no idea what he was talking about.

"Haimavati Roksana is dead!" I said, "Must be dead, right? Thousand years ago itself?"

His face contorted with disbelief and he shouted, "Her spirit will never die! Not until she gets what she wants. That powerful, she is."

A wave of coldness slipped down my spine. I was still sitting there, eyes enlarged, getting more and more confused and staring at those protruded eyeballs. Ashwant stood up and crossed his hands. He seemed to have decided to stay quiet now that I was picking up the conversation myself.

"You...you mean she's alive?"

"Not dead forever, atleast," he replied, "Dead and reborn, like those birds that rise from the ashes. She rises from her own grave and is born into the family as per her desire. Cornelian Samagraha, you are. Don't tell me you haven't met her, yet?"

I swallowed hard, my knees buckling. I remembered Lady Matsyasvi saying the exact words, but only if I had paid attention. My conscience began to play tricks, giving me an indication of who it could be. But I refused to accept it, staying intact and resolute with my knowledge and beliefs. "No. I haven't. But please tell me, what do you know about her and what do you think she wants?"

"She wants Almourah dead. Through you. Through a Cornelian Samagraha. That was the pact they had. Almourah had wished to fight with a Cornelian user when he couldn't with the First."

"No! No one has told me to go after him. This is my choice."

"Think, boy! Who made you aware of Almourah first? Who convinced you that his death will make this country a better place to live? Who influenced you to..."

"Stop!" I shrieked, the word escaped my mouth even before I wanted to. I stood up and took a step back in dismay. It was too much to take in. Too much to accept my own ignorance. And I wasn't ready for this. But if there wasn't any truth in it, then how did Pizaca know exactly what had happened between me and...

Ashwant held me by my arm and gazed at me concerned. "It was Shourya, right?"

"Huh!" I asked, feeling my mouth dry and tears forming in my eyes.

"Didn't you say Shourya was the one to make all of you aware of Almourah?"

I swallowed against the lump forming in my throat. "Yes."

He came closer to me, nearer to my ears and whispered. "He is a doofus. Don't let him talk more, alright? Ask for the Spine and let's get out of here."

I had my heart clenched, unable to accept any of the facts that were barging into the limelight. Zarina Khan's clairvoyant observations and Shashi stubbornness to replace Zarina with yet another stronger clairvoyant...

I almost choked on my own thoughts. No, that can't be true. Pizaca is just confusing me, stuffing up my mind with fuzzy details. Just like Tyrell. 

"Don't believe me, do you?" Pizaca said. He took a few steps closer and held his hand up. "This is the magic I learned from her. Go ahead, touch me. Let me show you who she really is. Let me ground you in reality."

Despite Ashwant's objections, I felt slightly compelled to do as per his say. With a drumming heart, I leaned down and touched his three-fingered hand.

"Don't!" Ashwant yelled, but...