The Secret of the Nagas (34 page)

Chapter 16

Opposites Attract

The fire was raging.

Shiva had never seen flames so high near the Mansarovar Lake. The howling winds, the open space, the might of the Gunas, his tribe, simply didn’t allow any fire to last too long.

He looked around. His village was deserted. Not a soul in sight. The flames were licking at the walls of his hamlet.

He turned towards the lake. ‘Holy Lake, where are my people? Have the Pakratis taken them hostage?’

‘S-H-I-V-A! HELP ME!’

Shiva turned around to find a bloodied Brahaspati racing out of the village gates, through the massive inferno. He was being followed by a giant hooded figure, his sword drawn, his gait menacing in its extreme control.

Shiva pulled Brahaspati behind him, drew his sword and waited for the hooded Naga to come closer. When within shouting distance, Shiva screamed, ‘You will never get him. Not as long as I live!’

The Naga’s mask seemed to develop a life of its own. It smirked. ‘I’ve already got him.’

Shiva spun around. There were three massive snakes behind him. One was dragging Brahaspati’s limp body away, punctured by numerous massive bites. The other two stood guard, spewing fire from their mouths, preventing Shiva from moving closer. Shiva watched in helpless rage as they dragged Brahaspati towards the Naga. A furious Shiva turned towards the Naga
.

‘Lord Rudra be merciful!’ whispered Shiva.

A severely bleeding Drapaku was kneeling next to the Naga. Defeated, forlorn, waiting to be killed.

Next to Drapaku, down on her knees was a woman. Streaks of blood ran down her arms. Her billowing hair covered her downcast face. And then the wind cleared. She looked up.

It was her. The woman he couldn’t save. The woman he hadn’t saved. The woman he hadn’t even attempted to save. ‘HELP! PLEASE HELP ME!’

‘Don’t you dare!’ screamed Shiva, pointing menacingly at the Naga.

The Naga calmly raised his sword and without a second’s hesitation, beheaded the woman.

Shiva woke up in cold sweat, his brow burning again. He looked around the darkness of his small tent, hearing the soft sounds of the Madhumati lapping the shores. He looked at his hand, the serpent Aum bracelet was in it. He cursed out loud, threw the bracelet onto the ground and lay back on the bed. His head felt heavy. Very heavy.

The Madhumati flowed quietly that night. Parshuram looked up. The moonlight gave just enough visibility for him to do his task.

He checked the temperature on the flat griddle heating up on the small fire. Scalding. It had to be. The flesh would have to be seared shut quickly. Otherwise the bleeding would not stop. He went back to sharpening the axe.

He tested the sharpness of the blade once again. Razor sharp. It would afford a clean strike. He looked back. There was nobody there.

He threw away his cloak and took a deep breath.

‘Lord Rudra, give me strength.’

He curled up his left hand. The sinning hand that had dared to murder the Neelkanth’s favourite. He held the outcrop of a tree stump. Held it tight. Giving himself purchase to pull his shoulder back.

The trunk had been used earlier to behead many of his enemies. The blood of those unfortunate victims had left deep red marks on the wood. Now his blood would mix with theirs.

He reached out with his right hand and picked up the battleaxe, raising it high.

Parshuram looked up one last time and took a deep breath. ‘Forgive me, My Lord.’

The battleaxe hummed through the air as it swung down sharply. It sliced through perfectly, cutting the hand clean.

‘How in the name of the holy lake did he escape?’ shouted Shiva. ‘What were you doing?’

Parvateshwar and Bhagirath were looking down. The Lord had justifiable reasons to be angry. They were in his tent. It was the last hour of the first prahar. The sun had just risen. And with that had come to light Parshuram’s disappearance.

Shiva was distracted by commotion outside. He rushed out to find Divodas and a few other soldiers pointing their sword at Parshuram. He was staggering towards Shiva, staring at him. Nobody else.

Shiva held his left hand out, telling his men to let Parshuram through. For some reason, he didn’t feel the need to reach for his sword. Parshuram had his cloak wrapped tightly around himself. Bhagirath stepped up to check Parshuram for weapons. But Shiva called out loudly. ‘It’s alright, Bhagirath. Let him come.’

Parshuram stumbled towards Shiva, obviously weak, eyes drooping. There was a massive blood stain on his cloak. Shiva narrowed his eyes.

Parshuram collapsed on his knees in front of Shiva.

‘Where had you gone?’

Parshuram looked up, his eyes melancholic. ‘I... penance... My Lord...’

Shiva frowned.

The bandit dropped his cloak and with his right hand, placed his severed left one at Shiva’s feet. ‘This hand... sinned... My Lord. Forgive me...’

Shiva gasped in horror.

Parshuram collapsed. Unconscious.

Ayurvati had tended to Parshuram’s wound. She had cauterised it once again in order to prevent any chance of infection. Juice of neem leaves had been rubbed into the open flesh. A dressing of neem leaves had been created and wound tight around the severed arm.

She looked up at Shiva. ‘This fool is lucky the axe was sharp and clean. The blood loss and infection from a wound like this can be fatal.’

‘I don’t think the cleanliness or sharpness was an accident,’ whispered Bhagirath. ‘He made it so. He knew what he was doing.’

Parvateshwar continued to stare at Parshuram, stunned.

Who is this strange man?

Shiva had not uttered a word so far. He just kept looking at Parshuram, his face devoid of any expression. His eyes narrowed hard.

‘What do we do with him, My Lord?’ asked Parvateshwar.

‘We use him,’ suggested Bhagirath. ‘Our ship will take up to six months to repair. We can’t stay here for that long. I say we carry Parshuram in one of our cutters to the closest Branga outpost and hand him over. We’ll use the leverage of handing over the most wanted criminal in Branga to wrangle a ship from them. They’ll force the medicine out of him and we get our path to the Nagas.’

Shiva didn’t say anything. He continued to stare at Parshuram.

Parvateshwar didn’t like Bhagirath’s solution. But he also knew it was the most practical thing to do. He looked at Shiva. ‘My Lord?’

‘We’re not handing him over to the Brangas,’ said Shiva.

‘My Lord?’ cried Bhagirath, shocked.

Shiva looked at Bhagirath. ‘We’re not.’

‘But My Lord, how do we get to the Nagas? We have sworn to get the medicines to the Brangas.’

‘Parshuram will give us the medicines. I’ll ask him when he is conscious.’

‘But, My Lord,’ continued Bhagirath. ‘He’s a criminal. He will not help unless he is coerced. I admit he has made a sacrifice. But we need a ship to get out of here.’

‘I know.’

Bhagirath continued to stare at Shiva. Then he turned towards Parvateshwar. The Meluhan General gestured to the Ayodhya Prince to be quiet.

But Bhagirath would have none of it. What the Neelkanth was suggesting was not practical. ‘Please forgive me for saying it again, My Lord. But the only practical way to get a ship is by letting the Brangas get their hands on him. And that’s not the only reason to do so. Parshuram is a criminal, a mass murderer. Why shouldn’t we surrender him to suffer the righteous Branga justice?’

‘Because I said so.’

Saying this, Shiva walked out. Bhagirath kept staring at Parvateshwar, not saying a word.

Parshuram’s eyes opened slightly. He smiled faintly. And then went back to sleep.

As the second prahar came to a close, the sun shone brightly, right over head.

The Branga and Kashi soldiers had been hard at work, with Vishwadyumna having taken charge. Kaavas didn’t seem to mind following orders from the capable Branga. The Branga travelling doctor had tended to all the wounded. They were all on the road to recovery. The dead had been cremated in the Icchawar village ground. While nobody expected the few remaining lionesses and the liger to return back to the village, for abundant precaution, the soldiers had dug ditches around the village. Temporary quarters had been erected for both Branga as well as Kashi soldiers in the school building. The villagers had been commandeered to arrange the food supplies.

The villagers, though rejoicing at the decimation of the pride, stayed warily at a distance, carrying out the tasks assigned to them by Vishwadyumna. Their mortal fear of the Nagas, despite the fact that their lives had just been saved by them, kept them suppressed.

The cleaner’s children, however, seemed to delight in playing with Kali. They pulled her hair, jumped on her and laughed uproariously every time she pretended to get angry.

‘Children!’ spoke their mother sternly. They turned and ran towards her, holding on to her dhoti. The cleaner’s wife spoke to Kali. ‘My apologies for this, Your Highness. They will not disturb you.’