7. Closed Ghosts

His subjects laughed at Asherro for a while. Lost in thought about Marili, he’d forgotten to take their wooden bridges with them. His entire army started at a wide river for a day without any way to cross it.

At first he pretended this was all part of the plan, and claimed the river was shallow. Once multiple soldiers nearly drowned, he had to turn around and go home.

Even worse, the Tamli kings had entered another part of Schola at the same time. Laughing, giggling and howling they took a few cities without resistance.

You’re a failure. All will remember you as an example of how NOT to do it. Next time you’ll stupidly walk right into an enemy spear by accident.

Asherro stopped leaving the palace. Marili was always gone.

She visited his subjects, went on tours through the city, spoke with everyone and asked what they needed. She told everyone the king was too busy or too sick to come himself.

He heard the whispers of his soldiers; they basically already had a queen, even one “from the enemy”.

But safe in his rooms, he didn’t have to see everyone’s Deathmate. Or hear the voices of the living about how much of a failure he was.

Ardex was often his only companion in planning his war. He desired the God of Death on his side, no matter how much the voice in his head complained.

Even so, his war tactics were repetitive: attack the Tamli, keep attacking, show no mercy.

Yes, yes, that had been grandfather’s mistake. Thinking that one big attack would suddenly mean the Tamli surrendered. Thinking one or two victories would be enough to still the desire for revenge.

“We’re slowly gaining ground in all three territories,” Ardex said. He seemed permanently exhausted by the never-ending First Conflict. “We’re losing soldiers, Asherro. A lot of them.”

“They should stop whining!” He moved a few wooden pawns over the map. Each pawn stood for ten thousand soldiers; Ardex took four pawns away from an area where they lost a battle. “A few deaths? They died for the right cause. I am sure the Tamli are losing more.”

“That … that doesn’t make it better.”

“It does help me sleep better. Otherwise …”

Be the first to attack, otherwise you’re dead already. The Tamli are devils. Conquer them at all costs. Enlist every boy.

“Yes. Yes, you know what? I immediately declare a new law that every body who is almost of adult age is required to join my army.”

Ardex roared. “Did the voices in your head tell you that?”

“Maybe.” Asherro pushed a few more pawns into Beeris’ territory, their strongest fighter and luckiest being so far. “Shutting out the ghosts was supposed to shut out the endless voices. But it didn’t work.”

“Of course not,” Ardex spoke sternly, as if berating his own child. “Those aren’t the voices of the Deaths of others. That voice is your Death!”

His death?

Why would … but … his Death was his opposite in all ways … so the voices would be the opposite of what he truly desired?

“Nice trick, Ardex. Won’t work on me. Even if I was the fool you take me for, I can’t just drop all the missions and completely change my views—that shows weakness and uncertainty like nothing else. A king should never do that. No king in history has ever done it.”

“The history of kings is quite young,” Ardex said. He walked around the map and took away even more pawns. Yes, Asherro’s idea for the new law requiring all boys to become soldiers was really needed. He might even consider accepting girls and children.

“Here on Somnia, everyone has a long lifespan,” the saber-toothed tiger said. “My sister Bella, Goddess of Wisdom, claims this is not natural. Elephants should only live for a paltry 70 years, not 700. You think this longer life is good; I know it’s not.”

“You would have us die sooner? Take away our Longlife? Ardex, you are truly the God of Dea—”

“It doesn’t matter what I desire! Desire has always clashed with the good of the universe!” Ardex loomed over him, casting a shadow over the entire war map. “Because the demigods messed with life so much, Death didn’t exist on Somnia at first! Unless you were wounded or ill, you’d live forever. I had to stop that by inventing magic that would have you die of old age. But for a god who lives forever … it’s hard to find the right number for old age.”

“Living forever?” Ashorra stared into his eyes. “Some Pricecats will tell you that’s a lie …”

“It is true,” Ardex said, nearly unintelligible. “I think me and my siblings can be defeated. And if I’m honest? I’d rather lived only a hundred years and done only good, than suffer all the terrible things that happened now.”

Ardex shuffled from the room. “It never ends, it never ends. I see every animal’s Death. And they might not talk to you—they surely talk to me.”

Ashorra made it a habit to reminisce his grandfather every week. He thought it’d be easier now that he never left the palace. Instead, Ardex’ remarks were needed to remind him he hadn’t done so in half a year.

He stood in grandfather’s old room and looked through his many bookshelves. He always assumed that the books at te front, shiny and colorful, were his favorite. So he’d read those first. But now he knew better.

The books at the back, worn and weathered, were his favorite. Read so often the book was losing pages. Between the covers he recognized a word: Buha. Hadn’t his grandfather told him how much he was inspired by that?

He opened the book and started reading.

The Buha lived a sheltered life, safe in riches and behind the palace walls. His parents pretended everyone in the country had as good a life as he. As if gold coins flowed like water. Food grew on every tree. Until he read about a sloth, a simple young sloth who experienced something special, with the name Prebuha.

Sloth. Don’t they mean goat or something? To his knowledge, all sloths left this area once disasters and fighting made the area uninhabitable to them.

By now he was bent over, immersed by the book.

A door opened and closed. Footsteps at his back. But he relaxed immediately, for he’d recognize these anywhere.

This sloth had been cast out of her group unexpectedly. Suddenly, she had to live outside her safe walls. Was it her death? Her demise? No, it showed the truth. It made her stronger and wiser than before. The story impressed him so, that Buha named himself after her and found the courage to secretly leave the castle. That night, he saw the truth about his country’s condition.

An elephant sat down next to him, radiating warmth. Marili twisted her trunk around his and gave him a kiss.

Poverty was everywhere. Animals desired food, love, riches, power. And all of them were unhappy, whether they got what they desired or not. Buha concluded that life was suffering, and suffering was caused by desire. The only solution, obviously, was to stop desiring and just let the universe guide you wherever it wants.

“This is what the Buhasts believe,” he mumbled. “That Buha is a sort of god with enormous wisdom about how to live and be happy. My grandfather believed this.”

“Most know Buha wasn’t a god,” Marili said, head on his shoulder. “But it helps to share the message.”

“No desire? Just let things happen?” Ashorra closed the book, sending dust particles into their faces. “So you’d just ask the Tamli to walk over us and do as they please?”

“No, because then I would desire something. Let things happen and move with the flow of the river.”

Marili smiled as if she were a little girl again. “I let myself be taken into your world. I didn’t love you at first—now I am happy I can be here and that I saw more of life than the narrow Tamli view.”

“I just don’t get it. How can you not desire something?”

Marili shuffled closer, looking more sweet than ever. “When I received this ugly scar on my trunk, I was sad and angry for months. I stopped living and refused to see anyone or speak. Until I realized … I could not do that? I desired that everyone found me beautiful. Until I stopped desiring that, and I could show my face again and continue living.”

“You … know a lot about this.”

“Most Tamli are Buhast. If you stopped fighting, even if they provoke you, they’d eventually shrug and leave you alone.” Marili lifted the basket she brought with her trunk, which contained fresh fruit and bread. “So let yourself be blown away by this dinner that I brought for us two.”

Something awoke inside him. A fire that understood he was lucky enough to be together with the love of his life. That wanted to hug her, kiss her, tell her how beautiful she was every day.

Hugging will not unite Schola. If you kiss her too much, you might start liking the Tamli. Your grandfather was weak because he refused to desire victory too much; look what happened to him.

Marili displayed all the food on a small cloth. “You’re looking at my scar again,” she said softly. “Do you still find me beautiful?”

The fire of love twisted and swirled inside him. A smile, that was all he permitted himself. “There are many elephants with a pretty face like yours. There is only one with such a unique trunk.”

She gave him a glass vial with water. He was thirsty. He thanked her with a kiss and removed the stopper—then smelled a nasty odour.

“Dear, is this—”

“I wanted to ask something.”

Ashorra sank down. See! She was only being nice because she wanted something!

She doesn’t really love you. So you don’t love her.

“I’ve been at the border, sweety. It is horrible there. All the fighting by your soldiers. So, so many deaths. I beg—”

Ashorra stood up. “You think I will listen to your emotional babbling because you bring me some food?”

“Oh stop being a crybaby!” Marili yelled. “No, sorry, that was mean. I just can’t reach you any other way!”

He exited the room and left Marili behind with the food displayed on the cloth.

“I am tired. Good night.”