"Of course. As you command, Your Highness."
Vandrabad called for the other rishis of the ashram. Around five senior rishis and three disciples, aside from Nazir, were chosen to go. One of the disciple was Nazir's roomate. He heard Vandrabad called the boy Damar.
Now that his initial 'rebirth madness' has calmed down, Nazir felt a little embarassed seeing Damar looking at him with apprehension. He had practically destroyed their room and was shouting about how they were all going to die young just this morning.
Then at the face of an important mission, Nazir had come back to the ashram looking like a wreck. His clothes bloodied and his face black and blue.
Nazir stiffled a sigh. An explanation was in order but that would have to wait. There's a prince he need to answer to.
Darsana had ordered the soldiers to go with Bissu Esfandiar and Aruna, while he himself would only be accompanied by the people of the ashram. Not even one soldier by his side.
"I don't think it's wise..." said Nazir bluntly when the prince sauntered to his side.
Darsana waved at his objection and casually smiled.
"Just take care of me."
It was a test, Nazir thought. He had unexpectedly caught the prince's eyes and now Darsana was assessing his capability. Nazir nodded to the prince.
"As you command."
He had been an adept rishi and royal advisor in his past lives. He could do it again. Though it's been quite a long time ago and he's more used to being rough mercenary now.
For the first time in this 49th life, Nazir inspected the corporeal body he currently inhabit with a calm, open mind. He traced the flow of energy in his body, the flow of breath as he inhaled and exhaled, and found that, although far from perfect, his body had undergone enough purification rituals.
As he felt the drizzle of rain weighting his hair down, as he remembered vividly the cut on his neck before he died and the first gasp of air in this lifetime. Nazir touched his smooth neck and speak in an ancient tongue.
[O' rain return to mist. From my breath, thus you are become.]
Raindrops in front of him slowed as if suspended in air.
[Be reborn as my cloud.]
With the breath flowing out from his mouth, a wisp of cloud started to form. It grew larger as the raindrops that fell on it turned into vapor, like building blocks being constructed by Nazir's mind. His vahana—his vehicle—taken the form of a cloud, floating a little above the ground.
The cloud was his prefered form of vahana in his previous lives. It was simple, versatile, and easier to maintain for longer periods of time. He was always naturally attuned to the manipulation of breath and air, so most of his power manifestation in the past involved some kind of wind and air control.
Magic, in this world, came from one's imagination, talent, and knowledge.
The rishi's body was the instrument, their life force the fuel. And in a sense it made a rishi almost an immortal, as long as they are able to replenish the life force through purification rituals, converting the natural pranas around them into their own.
Rishis who became an ascetic naturally live the longest, as they were far removed from the dangers of the mundane world. But there were also those who choose to apply their knowledge for worldy duties. Vandrabad and his ashram were one such kind.
"A cloud." One of the older rishi commented in surprise. "You usually prefer to conjure eagles, Nazir. What changes?"
"I had a change of heart," he shrugged.
So the old Nazir liked to conjure birds of prey. What a show off. Well, he was a young boy, it's only natural for a youth to yearn for admiration. The other rishis were conjuring animals as their ride; a purple heron, a bull, and such. But the most ostentatious of all was Vandrabad's, who conjured a giant blue tailed, golden beaked cockerel.
Now he knew who the old Nazir took after.
"This is very comfortable."
Darsana had sat himself on Nazir's cloud. He really did make himself comfortable, taking liberties to fashion an arm and backrest for himself at the rear part of the cloud. It seemed the prince was also adept in the arts of magic.
"It's good if it's to your liking, Your Highness," he nodded respectfully and take a seat on the front.
They departed at once, bracing the growing rain. Pelts of raindrops were obstructing the view and the sky was all grey. The rishis all casted a barrier to protect them from the force of nature, but none of them were strong enough to actually influence the weather. Across the land, it was believed that only the maharishi Mantara could do that kind of feat.
Vandrabad took the helm, Nazir and Darsana followed not far behind him. The old rishi called for one rishi who rode the purple heron.
"Go above the clouds, see how far it stretches," said Vandrabad.
They kept flying on the western direction, towards Mount Sala. Below them, the city of Antieum was getting smaller and sparser. The reds of their glazed roof tiles were turning into the green and golden of the paddy fields. Houses and buildings were becoming further and further apart.
Mount Sala looked deceptively small on the horizon, but even the view of the mountain were quickly dimming as mist turned into thicker fog. Vandrabad created a ball of light, it floated bright enough above the old rishi's head as a beacon for others.
In this thick fog, Nazir's cloud was completely camouflaged into the surrounding. He and Darsana looked as if they're simply floating. It was fortunate that Vandrabad's mount so brightly colored. Perhaps his own 'humbleness' in taking a cloud form as mount was foolish. They could easily become lost from the others' view.
Worriedly, Nazir turned back to check on the prince. Darsana had already scooted closer to Nazir, his expression was also worried but they were thinking about different things.
"This weather is very unusual," said Darsana quietly. "I have a bad feeling about this."
Yes. This time of year was supposed to be the dry season. Antieum had more rains than other cities because of its location between two mountains, but even so it won't reach this level. They were closing formation, flying in very close distance as to not get lost or separated.
Right at that time, the rishi who flew above the clouds finally came back. He looked troubled.
"It's bad. The cloud stretches as far as the eyes can see. I'm afraid we have to continue by land."
That means they would be slower in reaching Mt. Sala, but much safer. Because Antieum was also famous for other things. It was called the City of Two Rivers, the City of Rain, and it was also called—
[DHARRRR!]
—the City of Thunders.
And thunderclouds really came to them. They could see lightnings crackling from between the clouds a few kilometres away from them. The thunderous sound came a few moments after, the vibration shaking their whole bodies and almost destabilize their conjured mounts.
"Everybody descend. Do not be separated," Vandrabad ordered them.
But before they could fly far enough, among the thunderous roars, they heard a sound like horses hooves on pebbled road. A lightning bolt shot out and struck one of the rishi who mounted a bull right on his chest. The bull immediately evaporated and the rishi fell.
Nazir thankfully managed to caught the rishi's falling body onto his cloud mount.
"Rudras!" someone shouted.
From between the thick cloud, a chariot flew out, pulled by horses made of cloud and mist. On the chariot was the personification of storm itself; a Rudra. Their three eyes were made of balls of lightning, their skin as grey as the heavy rain cloud. Their voice a roaring thunder, and in heavy storms they manifested to begin their 'hunt'.
The rudra opened its mouth and a loud thundering roar was heard. More chariots appeared bringing the other rudras. The rishis and the prince seemed to be the 'preys' for their hunt.
"Disperse!"
Vandrabad loudly shouted as he created a bigger ball of light above his head, making himself the target for the rudras so that others could escape.
Quickly Nazir stretched his cloud to cover them from the rudras gaze while steering as far away as they could. They need to fly far enough before they could safely descend, or else the rudras might strike their back with lightning as they're descending. Thankfully, his cloud form turned out to be a blessing as they could blend effectively with their surrounding.
A little relieved, he turned to his rear. The unfortunate rishi was unconscious and held securely in Prince Darsana's arms.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of him," said the prince.
Nazir nodded and quickly turn back his focus in steering his conjured cloud. Thundering sounds were heard outside their cocoon of cloud. The vibration was so strong, he could feel his chest hammering in tandem. Nazir gritted his teeth, trying hard to maintain the image of clouds inside his head, pouring more life force to make them go faster, further away from the violent hunt.
"Nazir," a voice was heard behind him.
"Please be quiet," he hissed.
"Nazir, are you more injured than you let on?"
Nazir didn't want to answer that. He only cursed his lousy body inside his head. What, it couldn't even withstand a round of beating? This wimpy kid, that old Nazir. Later, he would surely train this body hard.
"Nazir—"
"I can handle it."
He breathed in deeply and regulated his chakra again. Don't rush, he reminded himself, flow it out steadily, slowly. Though his hands were shaking, he was steadfast in maintaining the cloud form. One hand held the cloud above their heads, the other on the mount.
But suddenly, between the thunders, they heard a whirring sound.
"Get down!"
Nazir was pulled down by Darsana as a blazing disc cleaved the cloud screen above their head. His hand that maintained the screen was singed. One second too late, it would've been severed along with his head. Above them came a three-eyed rudra, wielding that fiery chakram as it smiled sinisterly.
They were found out.