The beady eyes of a king cobra watched from the forest. Only a few moments had passed since Vessa had vanished from the forest hermitage.
The cobra had been watching the hut for the past several hours, unseen. Now he observed that the sage had departed the area and hissed with pleasure, his forked tongue flickering in and out of his mouth. He began to slither away sinuously, making his way over a mound, under a rock, and into the mouth of a hole. He slipped into the hole easily, winding his way down into the earth.
But instead of leading to a typical snake warren a few yards underground, the hole continued descending deeper and deeper beneath the earth. It was, of course, no ordinary snake hole, and no ordinary serpent. Cobras did not dig this far into the earth; no snake did.
After descending for several dozen yards through layers of earth and bedrock, the hole widened suddenly, expanding into a subterranean cavern. The king cobra wound his tail around a rock embedded in the side of the hole and lowered his considerable length down into the cavern, mouth first. He hung down like a shimmering black rope, over five yards long and gifted with a magnificent hood almost a foot wide when fully expanded. His black eyes gleamed in the darkness of the cavern, as he turned and twisted, seeking out the one he served.
“Master,” he hissed.
The word echoed in the darkness of the cavern. Somewhere, water dripped with the slow, timeless rhythm of a thousand-year-old phenomenon, continuing to erode the bedrock and expand the ancient cavern. This entire subterranean cavern had been created by the erosion of slowly dripping and flowing water over millennia. Sometimes, the greatest things are accomplished only through the gradual application of effort over a great quantum of time.
The cobra waited patiently, knowing his master did not appreciate impetuousness. Sometimes, it took hours or even days before he responded. The cobra’s job was to wait as long as was required. The slow but steady dripping of the water onto rock was the only thing that marked the passage of time.
On this occasion, he did not have long to wait.
Only an hour or two after the cobra had called for his master, something arrived in the cavern. It was as faint as a miasma, barely a thin mist, invisible in the darkness. Yet the cobra sensed it and woke from his doze, instantly alert. His tongue flickered as he wondered if it was his master or merely a cold wind carried by underground air currents.
The cobra hissed again. “Master, the greybeard has come and left. He returns again tomorrow at sunrise to take his son and grandchildren with him to the City of Snakes.”
A period of silence followed, as if the snake’s missive was being carried across a great distance to some other location, ported by supernatural means. Eventually the response came.
“It is no more called Nagapura, City of Snakes,” his master Jarsun said. “That name was never again spoken after your great ancestor was deposed. Once your kind roamed freely over Hastinaga in far greater numbers than the human pests who now populate the region. Soon, it shall be yours to roam freely again and the name Nagapura will sing out on the lips of the people once more.”
The cobra’s eyes glinted and his tongue hissed sibilantly, expressing the innate hatred of his species for all elephants, for he knew that Hastinaga, City of Elephants and Snakes, housed them in substantial numbers.
“You have done well to keep watch and pass on this timely message. Now you must do one more thing for me. It will require a great number of your kind working in concert to accomplish this task.”
The cobra hissed excitedly. “I am Lord of Snakes of this forest. I have an army of serpents at my command. You have only to say the word, Master.”
“It is imperative that the human named Shvate and his family be destroyed this very night, before the greybeard returns. I myself cannot set foot in this jungle because of the stonefire snare set in place by the greybeard.”
The cobra’s tongue flickered eagerly. “Say the word, and my serpents and I shall strike at them with our fangs until their bodies are black and writhing with our venom.”
“No need; my army of assassins is camped in the nearby mountain ranges, awaiting only my signal to enter the jungle and eliminate the Krushan family. But the greybeard’s stonefire spells of protection will alert the sage to our forces’ presence the instant they set foot there. That too is the reason for us meeting in this dank cavern.”
“What would you have us do, Master? We live to serve you.”
“And you shall serve. The runes the greybeard has placed encircle the hermitage of the Krushan in a very wide, large circle ranging several scores of miles. They are ancient, powerful spells woven into the trees, the leaves, the earth, the air, the grass itself.”
The cobra hissed to hear of such treachery. Priests! Their stonefire sorcery was the bane of many of his kind. They came into the deep forest, felled trees to clear spaces to build their hermitages, killing many of his species and depriving many more of their natural habitats. He longed for an opportunity to pay them back with venomous vengeance. “How may we remove the spell of protection, Master?”
“There is only one way, and it will be extremely difficult for you and your kind, but there is no alternative.”
“Anything!” hissed the cobra.
Jarsun’s voice drifted on the cold mist. “Fire.”
The cobra writhed. The very mention of the dreaded one struck terror into his cold heart. “Fire? It is our mortal enemy, Master!”
“I know how deeply your kind fears the open flame, Lord of Snakes. It has been responsible for the deaths of untold millions of your species since the beginning of life on Arthaloka. But sadly, it is our only option.”
“Master, we are snakes! How can we use fire, our most hated enemy?”
Jarsun’s voice hardened. “Because I command it. Because it is the only way. Only by burning that section of the forest, a complete ring of fire encircling the hermitage where the Krushan reside, can the spell of protection set by the greybeard be broken.”
“Cannot your own men do it, then?” the cobra asked, his ebony body trembling with fear at the very thought of those searing flames.
“If they could, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, fool,” Jarsun snarled, his voice echoing in the cavern. “I am tasking you and your kin with this mission. I shall guide you with my power to the circle where the greybeard has laid the spell of protection. You and your serpents must carry fire to that spot and burn it. The ring must be complete and unbroken.”
“So that the Krushan family does not escape?” asked the cobra, still trembling, but whether from fear of fire or his master, it was impossible to say.
“No, fool—once the spell of protection is burned and destroyed by the fire, I shall douse the flames at once so that my soldiers and I may enter the forest.”
“Then you too shall grace us with your presence, Master?” asked the cobra, his terror diminished in part by the possibility of receiving the Great One in person.
“Indeed. Tonight will mark the end of the Krushan family and the greybeard sage Vessa’s dream of seating his son Shvate on the Burning Throne. Do as I bid, follow my instructions to the letter, and no matter how many of your serpents sacrifice their lives to this battle tonight, know that it shall all be in service to a great cause. Go, Lord of Snakes, accomplish your duties this night, and soon, I vow, a Naga will once again sit upon the Snake Throne of Nagapura. Now go.”
The words echoed through the earth as the king cobra slithered up the hole and back toward the surface, shivering with excitement and anticipation.