Page 129 of Her Soul for a Crown
“Why did you choose her?” Premala asked as she led him around yet another corner in the vast tunnel system. The narrow passage pressed against his wide shoulders, the abrasive ceiling on his head. Even the air felt thin and constrained.
“Anula?” He panted.
“You said you had a plan for a while, so how did she end up in it?”
Moisture leaked from the walls. Reeri dared not consider whether it was blood or what the Kattadiya truly did in the darkness… “She made an offering the Heavens could not resist.”
A smile cracked the acolyte’s face. “Of course she did.”
Grateful for the distraction, he wiped his palms on his already-damp tunic and told their story, from his plans to hers, the bargain, and their shaky start. “I fell in love with her soul, as a bird falls in love with a song.”
Premala was quiet, contemplative. Else she was terrified into silence at the notion of a human and a Blood Yakka having anything but a bargain betwixt them. On the next turn, light grew as they emerged into a wide connection point. The statue of the Divinity of Mercy peered down. Their bronze vase poured out a never-ending stream of clear water into a pool at their feet. The sight brought images of Anula’s light streaming out of her body, the scent of her death, and the threat it brought to his heart.
His shadow writhed, but he clamped it down. Help was the only way he would save his family, and Premala was the only one willing. Mighty Heavens, it had to be enough.
“You found him,” a voice said, thick with surprise. The guruthuma stepped out from behind the statue. Four others flanked her. “Exceptional work, acolyte. I admit I did not think you capable. Perhaps you have a place here after all.”
Premala stilled, mouth half-open betwixt shock and fear.
“Restrain him!”
The Kattadiya pounced; one held a drum menacingly. Reeri tensed, yet the girl at his side launched herself before him. “Wait! I made a truce.”
“I beg your pardon?” the guruthuma hissed. It shivered down Reeri’s shadow.
“They aren’t here to end us,” Premala said, then explained it all, emphasizing his intention of ending Wessamony’s scourge and crediting him with saving her from enemy hands.
“Lies,” the guruthuma spat, eyes narrowed and frown fixed.
Reeri took a step back, ready to run. This Kattadiya would not see as Premala. Hatred clouded like a gathering storm.
“N—no they aren’t.” Premala wrung her hands. “Besides, Anula has the relic, and Polonnaruwa has her. She needs our help.”
“Our duty is to the First Heavens, not to some consort and surely not to a Yakka.” She pointed at Reeri. “Take him to the pit!”
Reeri spun—and tripped as a long drumbeat echoed out a meter. Three pairs of hands caught him.
“Wait!” Premala shouted.
They yanked at his arms, his shoulders, his waist, until they had fastened him tight with rope.
Memory-nightmares crept fast. “Premala,” he called out.
“Wait, please!”
“We had a deal.” His voice wavered as the Kattadiya dragged him deeper into the caves. Strong hands made stronger by faith.
The guruthuma’s whisper chilled his bones. “Kattadiya do not make bargains.”
***
Thrown inside the amphitheater, Reeri stumbled over loose rocks. The scent of iron and burnt cloth cloyed in his mouth as he took in the brown stains of dried blood smeared across the floor. His pulse beat swift as the beat of the drum ended and the revelation of his situation dawned.
“Premala,” Reeri murmured again. It was one thing to be attacked with a tovil, his shadow ripped out of Darubhatika and sent spiraling for a new host. Time would have been wasted, but not compared to this.
If Wessamony had taught Reeri anything, it was that torture was never quick.
The acolyte wrung her hands for the hundredth time. It did not release Reeri from his bindings, nor liberate him from the hole, nor remove the terrifying masks that now adorned the three Kattadiya.
