Rajiv Menon -- ThunderGod (27 page)

The warriors decided to wait for the cover of the night before they set off in pursuit. They spent the last hour of daylight trying to garner whatever information they could about the raiders. A quick examination of the battlefield told them that there had been fifteen men armed with clubs, daggers and slingshots. The villagers told them that the raiders had attacked an hour before dawn.

Luckily for the villagers, it was an auspicious day, so more than half the village had woken up early to offer prayers. They had banded together with their sickles and staves and chased off the raiders. Unfortunately, two women who had gone to draw water from the well were spotted by the retreating thugs, quickly apprehended and carried off up the mountain.

Darkness descended quickly upon the village. The three warriors took the blessings of the sage and started their trek up the mountain. The raiders evidently had no fear of being pursued--they had not bothered to cover their tracks.

Once they were out of sight of the village, Agni, Vayu and Varuna were quick to put their newly-acquired powers to the test. They leapt from rock to rock like monkeys, each one trying to outdo the other with extravagant acrobatic displays. They made rapid progress and within the hour they spotted the shadows thrown by the raiders' campfire on the mountainside.

Now they moved more cautiously. Vayu and Varuna took the flanks while Agni circumvented the camp and took up position further up the slope. They could hear the screams of a woman and the loud chatter of the men around the campfire. The language was alien to them.

From his position above the trail, Agni had the best view of the camp. He saw one of the men emerge from under an overhang, laughing loudly and adjusting his clothing. His cohorts made obscene gestures and applauded him. Agni used telepathy and asked the others to wait. A few moments later, a second man emerged. As two men got up, evidently to take their place, Agni gave the order to attack.

The Deva arrows flew true and fast. Three of the four men standing were the first to die. The fourth started to run up the trail straight towards Agni. Vayu and Varuna concentrated their attack on the men around the fire, shooting fast and with unerring accuracy. Within a few minutes it was all over. The only survivor ran up the trail and straight into Agni's fist. He lay out cold on the ground.

Agni dragged him back to the camp where Varuna and Vayu had retrieved their arrows from the corpses. Agni went to look for the women under the overhang. One of them lay on the ground, torn and bleeding. These men had been like animals. One look at her and he knew she was beyond help.

The other woman sat with her back against a rock and glowered at him. She had gathered her tattered clothes and was holding them against her body in an effort to protect her modesty. There were marks of the men's teeth and nails on her body. Agni averted his eyes, took off his cloak and left it at her feet.

When he returned to the fire, the sole survivor was coming to his senses. Agni grabbed him and raised him to his feet. The man took a clumsy swipe at Agni, who ducked and unleashed a flurry of punches into the man's body. The Deva was in an unforgiving mood. He kicked the man in the face, breaking a couple of teeth, and the man screamed in pain. Agni then grabbed him by his thick bushy hair and drove his knee into his face, shattering his nose. Varuna and Vayu finally dragged him away; they needed the brute alive for questioning. The man, his face a bloody mess, continued to scream at them in an alien tongue.

At first the Devas did not notice the young woman emerging from the shadows. She tried to walk tall with Agni's cloak wrapped around her body. The man leered at her and made an obscene gesture. The three young warriors saw this and made a move to chastise him, but before they could, the woman picked up a burning log from the fire and drove it with all her strength into the man's groin. The man let out a loud scream of agony before he fainted. She flung the log back into the fire and returned to her place in the shadows. The three warriors could not but help admire the young woman's courage and fortitude.

The next morning they made their way back to the ashram. The prisoner had lost all his bluster. With every step he took he screamed in pain as his thighs brushed against his burnt nether region.

They soon reached the village and the prisoner--now a fearful, whimpering wreck--stood before Bhrigu. The sage was surprised to discover that the man spoke Pakhtu. On interrogation, the man revealed that, after the death of chief Thora, there had been a battle for succession among his sons. One of his illegitimate sons, Tajak, had taken a band of followers and made their way south out of the Pakhtu lands. He intended to set up his own tribe and had taken to raiding peaceful settlements to acquire resources and women for breeding.

Bhrigu was dismayed that the son of an old friend had conducted these heinous acts against his people. He asked the man to go to his chief with a strong message that he should leave them alone in future or face the consequences.

The three warriors watched their prisoner limp away up the mountain. They did not agree with Bhrigu's decision to release him. They knew it would only serve to forewarn the enemy of their presence when they planned their next attack. But when it came, the ashram would be prepared. They would teach Tajak and his renegades a lesson they would not forget in a hurry.

***

Nala opened his eyes and looked around. He was lying in a field of poppies. He sat up and looked up at the clear, blue sky--it was a bright, beautiful day. He heard a rustle in the flowerbed as one of his men approached; he had in his hand a long wooden pipe. The man knelt beside Nala and from his pouch removed a tiny ball of a sticky brown substance. He placed it carefully on one end of the pipe. The other end he put in Nala's mouth. He then created a small fire and then used an ember from it to light the pipe. Nala drew long and hard on it as he took in a lungful of smoke. He then handed the pipe back to the man and lay back as he allowed the smoke to drift through his nostrils.

It had been months since he and his men had been sent here to man the last outpost on the western frontier of Aryavarta. It was a beautiful fertile land, full of fruit-bearing trees and flowers. Ahead, the river Mara flowed into the Mittani where it emerged out of the wetlands and made its way west through the distant mountains. The first month had been idyllic. Nala had kept up a strong training regimen to alleviate the boredom that life in paradise brought. Now three months had passed and there was still no sign of the patrol that was to relieve them. One day, Nala caught one of his men inebriated on sentry duty; he ordered him to be flogged.

As he watched the punishment being administered, he saw that the man took the brutal treatment meted out to him with a dreamy smile plastered on his face. The next day, the very man whose punishment he had ordered introduced a curious Nala to the dreams of the poppy.

He opened his eyes as his mind was brought back to the present. Since that day, he had chased these dreams day and night. It was the only relief he had from the boredom of his present existence. Now, as he looked up at the sky, he saw a speck that seemed to move swiftly towards him. It looked to him like an extraordinarily large bird. He looked around and found his bow and quiver near at hand. He got to his feet, notched an arrow on to his bow and took aim. As he prepared to let fly the arrow, he heard a voice clear in his head.

'Stay, brave warrior. Though your mind is enslaved by the poppy, I know I dare not doubt the trueness of your aim.'

Nala was shocked. Could that be the bird that had just spoken to him? He lowered his weapon as his intended target began to come closer to the ground. It was then Nala noticed something that made him question his sanity even further; the object was no bird at all, but a man, a winged man

The man landed and took a few steps towards the astounded Nala. As he approached, he folded his wings and right before Nala's eyes they began to change--the feathers disappeared to reveal lean, muscular arms. The man reached Nala and bowed slightly.

'Greetings. It was not my intention to startle you. I seek an audience with the king of the Devas.'

The man was tall with an aquiline face. His white blond hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. His almond-shaped eyes were the deepest green and shone like emeralds. As he looked at Nala, a hint of a smile played on his lips. He looked young, no more than a few years older than Nala, but his eyes seemed to carry the wisdom of ages in them. Nala was not sure if he could trust his senses any more: he had just seen the man fly like a bird and now, without having moved his lips, his voice had sounded in Nala's head. He decided his best approach would be a matter-of-fact one.

'We have no king, only a regent. I will send one of my men to escort you, as I cannot leave my post.'

The stranger's face wore an incredulous smile.

'You seem less informed than me as to the affairs of your tribe, my friend. I am here to offer my services to Indra, king of the Devas.'

Nala could not believe his ears. Could this be true? If it was, it was no less a miracle than what he had just witnessed. Indra was back, and had succeeded in clearing his name. Things were starting to look up again.

'On second thoughts, I will accompany you to Aryavarta. By what name are you called?'

'Travistr,' the man replied.

***

Indra had just returned to his tent after a hard day's training. As king, he had decided not to build a palace, but opted to go back to living in a tent like his father before him. The royal tent had been pitched a few yards away from the barracks, so Indra could keep a close watch on the training of his troops.

Indra had heard about a few rumblings in the Sabha. Although it was an insignificant minority, there were a few members who did not see the point in Indra leading their children into battle. These men had one thing in common: they'd all got used to a life of comfort. Like their cattle, they had gotten fat and content. They had begun to forget the old ways of their tribe.

Luckily, the vast majority, which included the young men under his command, did not share this opinion. They lived for the glory and thrill of battle. It was not their desire to die in their beds of old age; they wished to live under the shadow of death and cheat it with their skill at arms.

As he washed the weariness from his face and limbs, a page informed him that General Kanak sought an audience. He wiped himself dry and prepared to meet the old warrior, a man--Indra knew--who if he could still hold the reins of a horse and a weapon could not have been stopped from riding out to battle.

The general entered and bowed respectfully. Outside, the clash of maces and that of sword against shield could be heard. The general smiled.

'I am pleased to note that Aryavarta has again started to look and sound like a Deva settlement. I am certain your father who is watching over you from the heavens will be proud of you, my king. But I urge you to not commit the same mistake he did.'

Indra raised his eyebrows. 'I do not understand, my lord general. What is it that you wish to say?'

The general cleared his throat; this was a delicate matter that the Sabha had entrusted him with, something that went quite against his soldierly demeanour.

'My lord, we at the Sabha know that the time has come for you to avenge your father and it will not be long before you lead our mighty army once again to war. But we urge you not to make the same mistake that he did. Please take a wife and give us an heir before you leave. Surya forbid, if something were to happen to you, this tribe cannot bear witness to another bloody duel for succession.'

Indra smiled. 'The concerns of the Sabha are not unfounded. I am ready to marry the woman that was chosen for me. Please request the Sabha to carry my proposal to the Lady Madri, for the hand of my betrothed, Sachi.'

As General Kanak left, Indra sat lost in thought. He loved Sachi more than anyone else in the world, yet he had not visited her since her father's tragic death. He could face a thousand warriors in battle, but he did not have the courage to face her. Indra knew more than anyone else how much she'd adored her father. He hoped she would find it in her heart to forgive him.

***

Mitra sat in the courtyard of Vasu's house and awaited the arrival of the Lady Madri. He had been entrusted with the task of putting forward Indra's marriage proposal. Lady Madri came out of the house and bowed respectfully. She had aged considerably in the past few weeks. Her eyes were heavy with sorrow. Mitra gently conveyed the king's message. She thought for a while and replied with all the dignity she could muster.

'I know it is my duty as a parent to decide on my daughter's marriage, but given the circumstances, I think I would like to leave the final decision to my daughter. You will find her on the banks of the river, behind the house.'

Mitra was not too happy with his current predicament. He had to convince a girl to marry the man who killed her father. He reached the banks of the Mara and called to her. As Sachi approached, Mitra studied her. Her face was calm, yet he could sense the grief buried deep in her heart where it wore away at her soul. Mitra decided to come right out with his message.