Tantrics Of Old by Krishnarjun Bhattacharya

eyes.
Then
you will begin to understand the power of the Tantric.’
    ‘I have been doing some summonings,’ Adri spoke.
    ‘Spirits. Yes. And you are impressive in calling them. You might even be
Ba’al Ob
one day if you keep carrying on like this. But you sharpen the arrow and do not attend to the bow. You are a Necromancer, and you must understand that you
have to
know by code everything there is to know about summoning, banishing and exorcising both Demons and spirits. Incompetence in either one will make you fail. And in our line of work, failure can be rather
grisly
.’
    ‘I will not disappoint you, Father,’ Adri said softly.
    ‘Start with the younger Demons, the weaker ones. The inexperienced ones are easier to catch, faster to summon.’
    ‘I really need to work with Demons, is it?’ Adri muttered, mostly to himself.
    ‘Stop running away, boy. Remember the basic summoning rules.’
    ‘Yes, Father.’
    ‘Well, what are they?’
    ‘Higher power, The Telephone Call, and Precautions.’
    ‘Excellent. Demons are the best keepers of secrets, always remember that. If a Demon does something for you, not a soul gets to know. That is the only reason Tantrics use Demons. That, and their massive reservoir of unholy power. Powerful creatures they are.’
    ‘What is the most powerful Demon you’ve met, Father?’
    Victor was thoughtful for a long time. ‘The one which had destroyed the city of the Kushanas alone,’ he replied. ‘Ba’al. A Demon of incredible power, and I think it was young then, as far as Demons are concerned.’
    ‘Did you summon it?’
    ‘Yes. It took a couple of days to make all the arrangements and preparations, but yes, finally it was me who summoned it. The city had to fall, and we knew it could get the job done. It did.’ Victor’s eyes were cast to all the years back, to all the blood and the killing. Sigh. He missed those days. Adri didn’t miss the sigh.
    ‘This was before you were born,’ Victor added, all of a sudden. Adri said nothing. He had Demons to summon.

    Maya looked up from the diary. Adri was sleeping, and looked more vulnerable than ever. Maya gazed at his face, one that had evidently been forced into prematurity. She had no clue as to how Necromancers were trained, or what they had to go through, and the diary was vastly interesting to her. About the young Tantric she now knew a bit more than before. It felt curiously good. She looked to her right and saw Gray snoring, head against a lone window grill. She turned around. The sleeping man hadn’t moved. What was it with everyone sleeping? Was the train so safe after all? The Driver, he had given her the chills; who was he anyway?
What
was he? Did he leave the wheel to collect tickets while the train sped? And why had Adri kept his magical weapon raised and ready as he had entered the train? Evidently they could be in danger. And now Adri was fast asleep, as was Gray. So-called protectors. Not that she needed protection, but danger could be anywhere.
    The compartment door up front slid open again. Maya caught a brief glimpse of the empty vestibule beyond as an old woman entered and slid the door shut behind her. She was old, undoubtedly in her seventies. She walked with a curled walking stick and wore black—a twisted, curving sari. Wrinkles cut deep and strong on her face, almost like scars; there must be a million of them on the face alone, thought Maya. Her hair was a dirty white, neatly tied in a bun, and her eyes, steel grey, looked at the three of them with interest. She did not approach them, choosing a seat right next to the door.
    Maya decided to start reading the diary again. She opened it, and the lights flickered. She looked up. Strange. The lights seemed fine. Suddenly, another flicker. Then again. And again. And again.
    Maya was wondering if she should call Adri. She looked behind her. The sleeping man hadn’t noticed. Nor had the old woman, though Maya could just see the back of her head. The tube