Those who made it into the forest looked suddenly alive, loudly jesting and slapping each other on the back.
"The man has returned with his friends, it seems," the tantric casually commented to the skinny boy, who was still trembling from the encounter.
Bali overheard the words and frowned. "What friend?"
The tantric and the pupil exchanged a knowing glance before looking over to the sage.
It stung Bali that five of his men fell in the attack, and even more that they could not retrieve their bodies without facing more onslaught of the enemy arrows. So, the men decided to keep riding through the woods that they called the forbidden forest.
The man that Bali had rescued was lying before him across Uchcha's back, still moaning in agony. It was a young dimbasura that Bali frequently trained with, and from the look of his wound, the youth should pull through. But, losing five men was still five more than Bali had accounted for in this trip.
"A masked man tried to rob me of the book last night," it was the sage who answered Bali's question, "when I was resting in the inn. It must be the same gang of thieves."
"They seem more than thieves," his pupil, Sachi, said, voice still shaky and short of breath. He was sitting atop a white filly, something that suited his size. "Assassins, perhaps."
Bali twisted his head to look at the sage. "Why was I kept in the dark about that?" he berated the old man, "What else have you not told us?"
"It makes no difference," the sage replied nonchalantly. "We will face many threats. There is no use dwelling on them," he declared and then put his heel to his horse to speed it along.
Bali's mouth tightened in a cold rage, but he remained silent. Best leave it as is, he thought. Old Sage Parasu carried the key to what he sought the most in the world, and if he had to pretend to go along with him, pretend he would.
The convoy rode deeper into the jungle, the trees pressing closer the further they went. Bali could tell it was a thicket of Sal trees from the smell of the flowers, strewn with Gulmohar trees that in the daylight looked like they were on fire. The air was damp on the skin, and they must be walking on mud from the way the hooves were sinking into the ground.
The tree branches hung low, the leaves brushing against the face, and in the bright moonlight, it was easy to see the tree snakes coiled around the thin branches, watching the unwelcome visitors. Bali kept on slashing at every tree branch before him, wary of any enchanted trap waiting for them to step into.
"I must thank you," he said when he found himself riding close to the tantric, Vyom. "You are impressive with your tantra." He might not admire tantrics, but he knew how to show gratitude for kindness.
The tantric gave a half smile that Bali was not sure it showed gratitude or mockery. "I regard your compliment in high honor, my prince," Tantric Vyom said with a slight bow of his head. He was sitting across a tan thoroughbred, with a white stripe on its nose, a rare breed that would not come cheap. "That begs the question, what brings you on this quest?" The tantric asked boldly with a hint of smirk in his tone.
"The same thing that brought you. A noble calling."
"I do not usually subject myself to chivalrous impulses, my prince," Tantric Vyom continued in his humorous tone, moving aside a low branch in front of his face as he rode under it. "We have knights and protectors of the realms like you for that. I only came to assist my friend." He looked over to the friend, the pupil Sachi, who was removing a small twig from his hair.
"I thought forsakens did not have friends," Bali admitted, with a hit of curiosity. He indeed found the human tantric quite amusing and strangely interesting. "That is what you are, I assume."
The tantric shrugged. "Left the guild when I found they had little left to offer me. Decided to wander the world on my own."
"A wanderer?"
"An explorer," the tantric corrected Bali. "And what better way to begin my exploring than follow my friend on this quest."
Bali could hear some truth in Tantric Vyom's words. Suddenly, there was a shriek, and they all turned to their side. It was Sachi, the pupil, shaking violently, sitting on his horse, arms flailing by his side.
One of Bali's men rode up to him and picked up from his shoulder what seemed like a tiny snake. The entire group broke into a boisterous laughter, but the boy looked abashed, quickly trotting along to the front where his master was riding. Tantric Vyom mumbled a quick word of apology and sped up to join the boy.
The thickets only seemed to grow dense as they ventured deeper into the forest. It frustrated Bali, but so far, he did not notice anything forbidden about the jungle.
"Prince Bali," Narsingh called him.
Bali ducked his head under another low-hanging branch and then looked at the lion demon. He was pointing to their left. In the distance, they noticed several torches, at least six, slowly approaching them.
When they drew closer, Bali saw the silhouettes of the figures that were holding up the torches. They were the serpent people. By then, the forest was clearing up, too, opening into a sprawling meadow. Soon the convoy of the riders came to a halt, and Bali rode up to the front.
"You must turn around and return to the main road," one of the serpent men was explaining to Sage Parasu, "we do not let strangers pass through our land." The rest behind him nodded.
Their slit yellow eyes were glowing like tiny suns in the torchlight. They were half men, half snakes, the upper half of their bodies built like warriors, and the lower half serpentine, thick like a tree trunk that tapered down to long tails. Around their necks hung their serpent stones.
Sage Parasu began to speak, but Bali interrupted, "Then it will do you well to know we are not just any strangers. We are the royal convoy from the capital of Amravati on a special expedition, ordered by King Digvi himself. And as his son, I have been charged by my father to command this expedition."
The serpent men traded confused looks before their leader announced that their instruction was to stop any stranger from entering their settlement and eliminate anyone who defied the order.
"You will declare war against the realm if you dare to draw your weapons," Bali threatened. He was quickly losing patience.
"May we speak to your elders? They must hear what we have to say," Sage Parasu requested in a calm, quiet voice.
In the end, the guards relented to letting five of the party follow them into the meadow. The rest of the men and animals would wait in the forest for their return.
It was a hilly meadow, gentle rolling hills covered in short grass that looked more blue than green in the full moon. A line of Sal trees stood guard at the entrance to the settlement, watching the approaching band of five travelers escorted by the six serpent men. It was Bali, Uncle Bhringi, Sage Parasu, and his two companions in the group.
Behind the column of trees was a sprawling settlement of at least a hundred houses. The entire area was surrounded by high bamboo fences stitched together by vines and fitted with sconces that carried brightly lit torches. Two guards opened the gates for them. Bali and his men dismounted their horses and handed off the reins to one of the serpent men.
"You must give up your weapons before you enter our village," another one ordered.
There was no benefit in confiscating their weapons from them, Bali knew since most of them could conjure and wield tantric weapons. But Bali did as they said, and so did Parasu and Bhringi. The tantric and the pupil swore they had no weapon with them.
When they stepped inside the village, most serpent people were still out and about, too early an hour for them to retire. The houses were modest, mud and brick with a thatched roof. Lanterns lit their porches, where they sat and peered curiously at the strange visitors walking through the village square.
They made their way into the village pavilion, situated on the other end of the village, between an ancient banyan tree and a temple for Snake Goddess Manasa. A crowd of villagers had already gathered outside the pavilion, eager and full of hushed murmur. The six serpent men escorting Bali and his companions cleared the path and then stood aside at the foot of the pavilion.
Village elders, ten of them, sat inside the pavilion, waiting. Bali and the rest were left to climb the stairs to the high platform. The wooden planks creaked under their feet, and when they finally reached atop the pavilion, there were no seats welcoming them. Instead, the five stood before the council of elders like common thieves.