The next morning began with a commotion. Two runners had arrived with news from Aravi, a settlement not five days journey to the south of Twisted Tree. Their settlement had been attacked, and a few homes set ablaze, 7 people had been killed. The attackers had been led by Angulimaal. There were more than the handful that Svarna had talked about. They were at least twenty warriors. What was of concern was that Angulimaal had targeted mostly refugees, and he seemed to be looking for someone specific.

Before leaving the village, Angulimaal called out that he was looking for a man both young and old, a man who is neither among the dead nor among those alive. He claimed that such a man must be sacrificed to the Gods before their anger would subside, and the great water return back to its place. Rashida looked startled, and then very grave as she thought over the strange words of Angulimaal.

The Chief Yozuk had dispatched runners who would carry the news as fast as they could to the next settlement, with instructions to send runners to alert all settlements in the vicinity. It seemed that instead of them hunting down Angulimaal, Angulimaal had brought the challenge to them. A council of war met that morning, and the warriors were mobilized. Four warriors were sent to the shrine of Vrika, to prpitiate the War God before the start of their campaign.

Vayu, Hamza, Sena and Babak made their way to the cave set high in the cliff wall. The climb was arduous, and the drop was sheer. Below them the great forest stretched to the south and the east. Far to the north, they saw the shining water of the bitter lake. It looked calm now, but who knew how much farther inland it would creep before stopping? Vayu looked up at the sky. A pair of eagles wheeled overhead.

Slowly, carefully, the four men felt for footholds and hand holds cut into the rock ages ago. They reached the entrance of the cave, a deep and wide cavern that stretched far inwards to the heart of the mountain. Sena had brought a torch, and he lit it now, and led the way inside. On the high ceiling of the cave, thousands of bats huddled, squirming and shifting and changing positions, not too happy at having their slumber disturbed. Vayu smelt the musty, sour smell of years of bat droppings. The men’s feet sank into a soft layer of bat guano, and beetles and other insects scuttled away from their footfalls. The torch that Sena carried cast crazy shadows on the cave walls, and in the flickering light, the drawings on the walls leaped to life, some of monstrous creatures Vayu did not recognize, and others of figures of men hunting giant deer, and dancing. From time to time, he recognized the figure of a great wolf-headed figure.

Then the passage narrowed, until the men had to almost crawl through a stone tunnel, one by one. Vayu felt like he was entering the mountain’s stone heart. Just when he started to wonder if the tunnel would ever end, it widened, and he could stand up. He stretched up and stepped into a circular space, about fifty feet wide, and twenty feet high. He was in the sanctum of Vrika. There must have been an opening to the outside somewhere in the cave, because the air here was cool and fresh. There were no bats.

The four warriors stood in the cave-shrine of the War God, Vrika the Wolf-headed one. The War God’s shrine was rarely used, because the people of these forests had long been used to peaceful ways. But they had use for it now.

Sena used his torch to light the inner sanctuary, and the God’s eyes, made of quartz, glittered. On the stone walls of the cave, unknown hands from ages ago had drawn scenes of war, figures with horned head-dresses, masks and weapons raised, and dancing in triumph over fallen enemies, and the figure of the War God Vrika himself, in the Wolf Mask. The men stepped forward and at the feet of the Wolf-headed Vrika, each drew an obsidian knife, and sliced a small gash in his fore-arm. The blood welled up and dripped in warm splashes on the God’s feet. It seemed to them that the jaws of the God widened, and the crystal eyes flashed in pleasure. Then Hamza called out, “Vrika, be with us in this fight. Give us your strength, and cunning. Give us your great courage and strike fear in the enemy’s heart.” They stood for a time as the vibrations of Hamza’s voice reverberated through the cavern. They backed out of the sanctum, back through the tunnel, and made their way back across the cliff face.

They reached home at dusk, glad to see that the village was as peaceful and safe as when they had left it.