“The Lords possess such power?”
“Haven’t you been listening? The Lords of Kismet are power, given form and substance. Their weapons channel that power, or so we have been taught.”
“How many of these Lords do you know by name?”
“There are many. Let me see.” Chuanchen pondered, then rattled off. “Dhurga, Shiva, Angi, Soma, Yama, Vishnu, Devi, Brahma, Kali, Chandra, Ramitra, Vasu, Mitra, Bhishma, Aruna….”
Yama held up a hand. “That’s enough. How many of them are in Bangkok right now?”
“I couldn’t possibly say,” Chuanchen said, and chuckled. “The gods do not keep me in their confidence. They come and go as they please. Now and then Dhurga will hold a celebration in honor of a visit by another of the Lords, but few humans are permitted to attend.”
“She’s the sole ruler here?”
“Bangkok is her city, yes.”
“Which city belongs to Yama? Where would I find him?”
Chuanchen was a while answering. Finally he said, “I have the feeling you listen to my words but you do not hear them. Heed what I say next.” He paused. “You do not want to find him. He would slay you as easily as you step on a spider.”
“Tell me about him anyway,” Yama said. “I am most curious.”
“If you insist,” Chuanchen replied with obvious reluctance. “It is believed that when the Lords emerged from their caverns deep under the earth, the true Yama claimed not just a city but the entire region once known as Tibet for his domain. It is said he wiped out nearly all the Tibetans and lives in a mountain fortress so high up in the Himalayas, the only way to reach it is by a vimana.”
“A what?”
“The flying machines of the gods.”
Yama remembered the golden ‘bell’ he’d seen. He also remembered the maps he’d studied, and couldn’t hide his disappointment. “Tibet is two thousand miles away.”
“I believe so, yes. So you see. For you to be admitted into the presence of Lord Yama is impossible, a fantasy born of ignorance.” Chuanchen rested his elbows on his knees. “Why are you so intent on meeting him, if I may ask?”
“I named myself after him.”
“Again, why?”
“I’m a Warrior. Warriors deal in death. And from the books in our Library, I learned that Yama was once called the God of Death.”
“Once, now and forever, that is his title,” Chuanchen said. “But tell me. Let us say you do somehow encounter him. What would you do? What would you say? Assuming he left you alive long enough to do or say anything.”
“I would put him to the test,” Yama revealed. “I would challenge him and see if he truly is all they claim.”
“Challenge……the Death God?”
“It was one of my purposes in coming here."
Chuanchen shook his head and muttered something under his breath. Then, smiling, he said, “After what you have told me, there can be no doubt.”
“Of what?”
“That I was right earlier. Do not take this the wrong way, but you are truly and completely insane.”
CHAPTER 29
Pain brought Blade around. His wrists were throbbing, his legs ached. He found himself lying on his side on the hut floor, his hands bound behind his back, his lower legs literally wrapped in rope. The old expression ‘tied good and tight’ applied, doubly so; whoever tied him wasn’t taking any chances he’d get free.
A figure filled his vision, the woodcutter, smiling at how clever he’d been. In his right hand was his machete. He smacked the flat of the blade against his left palm as a warning of what would happen should Blade try anything, and spoke a few words in Thai.
“You’ll get yours,” Blade said. This was what he got for going easy on the man. Treachery. To what end remained to be seen.
The woodcutter turned and walked to the hut’s entrance.
Without being obvious, Blade tested his bounds. The rope was green, and new, and seemed to have been fashioned from a lot of very thin vines, wound together. They didn’t give a fraction, not even when he applied all his strength.
The Commando lay a few feet away. To Blade’s surprise, he still had the rest of his weapons. The woodcutter hadn’t disarmed him. If only he could get to one of his bowies.
The woodcutter commenced to pace and glance out the doorway, as if he were expecting someone.
With a start, Blade realized the woman was gone. The man must have sent her off after….who? That they’d seen fit to drug and tie him didn’t bode well.
Blade struggled, trying to wriggle his wrists. He forgot about the woodcutter until the tip of the machete gouged his neck and the man uttered a guttural warning.
All Blade could do was glare. After half a minute the woodcutter returned to the doorway and resumed smacking the machete against his hand.
Blade was furious at himself for being taken. He thought of Jenny and Gabe. He wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of seeing them again. Somehow, he must turn the tables. He looked around for something he could use but there wasn’t so much as a shard of glass.
Outside, jungle birds warbled. Monkeys chattered. Once, a ways off, a carnivore roared.
Blade needed that machete. The next time the woodcutter looked out the doorway, he slid a few inches toward him. When the woodcutter glanced over his shoulder, he stopped.
Blade repeated the tactic several times. He’d covered a third of the distance when, on glancing at him yet again, the woodcutter did a double-take, then strode over, his face puckered in puzzlement. He motioned, and barked more Thai. Blade just lay there and smiled, the picture of innocence.
The woodcutter tapped the plank next to Blade’s head, as if letting him know that was as far as he was to go. Then he returned to the doorway, and his
