Tiger’s Destiny (14 page)
‘Some of the other creatures you may come across on this journey according to the prophecy are Qilin and Rakshasas. A Qilin is a creature from Chinese mythology. It has the head of a dragon and the antlers of a deer and is covered with fish scales. It is said to be a gentle creature and symbolizes good luck. Rakshasas are shape-shifting man-eaters that use magic and illusion to catch their prey. They are warriors and difficult to kill. They have venomous claws as well.
‘Be wary of the Chimera, which Miss Kelsey most likely has already heard of. It is a lioness with a snake tail and an extra head that is usually represented by a goat. The Chimera breathes fire and is very dangerous.
‘You will also cross paths with the Lords of the Flame, trickster twin brothers who are powerful and greedy. They can be played against each other, but if they unite against you, the result may be tragic. One of them fights with a
Gáe Bolga
—a notched javelin-like spear. Its tip opens into thirty barbs upon impact. The only way to remove the weapon is to cut it out. The other twin wields a pair of barbed whips.
‘I do not know what types of creatures Sunset and Sunrise are, so I would plan for the worst and hope for the best. This is all I can prepare you for. Good luck to you all.’”
Nilima sniffled as I set the papers down and felt a tiger nose touch my leg. Ren looked pointedly at the stairs. I knew exactly what he wanted to say. It was time to put this long day behind us.
After Nilima and I said good night, I climbed the stairs with my two tigers trailing along behind me. They settled on the floor in my room and watched me move about through sleepy eyes narrowed into slits. I climbed into bed and tried to burn every detail of Mr. Kadam’s face into my memory forever.
I
t was a Hindu custom to mourn for thirteen days, but we decided to mourn for three days and then follow the tradition of keeping a lamp lit for another ten.
Mr. Kadam had said to look up Durga’s creation, and I dutifully immersed myself in study that led me to an interesting theory. The Durga stories told of many weapons, and with Ren and Kishan researching at my side, we jotted down a quick list to keep track of them all.
Weapons
Disc (Chakram)
Conch (Kamandal’healing power)
Missile (Spear Darts from Trident?)
Arrows (Golden Bow and Arrows)
Thunder Bolt (Lightning Power?)
Bell (Needed to Awaken Durga)
Rod (Trident/Trishula)
Axe (Blade of Chakram?)
Magic Armor (New Weapon)
Mace (Gada)
Water pot (Other Name for Kamandal, I think)
Cudgel (Other Name for Gada)
Sword (Actually Two Swords)
Snake (Fanindra)
Rope (Rope of Fire?)
Jewels (Pearl Necklace)
New Clothing (Divine Scarf)
Garlands of Immortal Lotus (Gave to the mermaid
Kaeliora—Durga said it had no power) Noose (Rope of Fire?)
“It appears there are lots of different versions of how Durga was born,” I explained, reading on. “In this text it says Durga was a goddess who was born from the flame. But other books claim she rose from a river, appeared out of a whirlwind, came from a ball of light, and emerged from the cave of a great mountain. Then there’s also a story about Durga being created to battle a demon called Mahishasur.”
“Okay, so the stories vary,” said Kishan.
“Yes, but what’s the common denominator?”
I paused, but they said nothing, waiting for me to fill in the blank. “The
amulet
!” I exclaimed.
“I don’t get it,” Ren said rubbing his jaw.
“We know that the amulet piece I wear has the properties of fire, and Mr. Kadam said his piece shot him into space. What if each amulet represents one of the elements—fire, air, water, earth, and space—and each of her ‘birth’ stories reflect a different element?” I proposed and handed over my notes on the amulet.
Possible Powers
The roar of Durga’s tiger shook the world.
(Earthquake? Earth Amulet)
Oceans boiled and surf flooded the land.
(Water Amulet or Pearl Necklace)
Mountains crumbled in a thousand landslides.
(Earth Amulet)
Used her divine breath to replenish her armies.
(Food/water/clothing? Using gifts)
Great flames issued forth in all directions.
(Fire Amulet/Rope of Fire)
Dodged mountains. (Earth Amulet)
Encompassed Mahishasur’s army in a sandstorm.
(Air Amulet)
“Okay, then which birth story is the accurate one?” Kishan asked.
“Maybe they all are,” I suggested.
“Um . . . here’s something,” Ren added. “This book talks about a volcanic island that sounds an awful lot like the one Kadam told us to go to. It’s called the Pit of Hell.”
“Really?” I coughed on a bite of muffin. “That’s marvelous.”
“That’s not the worst of it.”
“Good,” I mumbled sarcastically. “I wouldn’t want it to be
too
easy. So a volcanic island and a battle between Durga and Mahishasur? I think it’s possible that Durga may have had the whole amulet when she beat him, taking into account, of course, that we accept the story literally.”
“It’s a good theory,” Kishan said. “There’s no mention of anything strange happening in space or time though.”
“No, there isn’t. There’s also no mention of anyone appearing or disappearing.”
“Tell me the story of the battle, so I can picture it in my mind,” Kishan asked.
“Alright. I’ll start when Durga meets Mahishasur.” I thumbed through pages until I found what I was looking for. “‘When the goddess entered the battlefield astride her tiger, all eyes turned to her. The tiger paced slowly forward, and the awestruck men knelt while the demons panted softly at seeing the beautiful goddess. She was calm, fearless. Though she passed squadrons of demon archers, thousands of charioteers, and hundreds of battle elephants, none moved to harm her—each creature was totally awestruck at her power.
‘When at last she reached the demon king, she was surrounded by men with glistening iron axes and black halberds’—wait, what are halberds?”
“It’s like a long spear with an axe on the end,” Ren answered.
“Got it. ‘The battlefield was a river of blood but even the red river could not distract from the red of her lips or the lushness of her hair, so immensely beautiful was she. The demon king fell in love upon seeing her and announced he would take her for his bride. He instructed his men to capture the goddess, but none of them were aware that behind her great beauty was a creature of great strength.
‘Like a whirlwind, she and her tiger rose up and slew each of the demon king’s cohorts. She threw her noose around Mahishasur’s neck, and while her tiger clamped onto his body with his jaws, she raised her sword and cut the demon in half.’”
Kishan whistled. “She sure sounds like my kind of woman.”
I elbowed him in the ribs and Ren rolled his eyes, but Kishan ignored us.
“I would have loved to see her in battle,” he continued.
“I think you’re missing the point, Casanova.”
Kishan grinned, captured my hand, and kissed it. “I wondered what it would take to make you jealous. By the way, I’m nothing like Casanova. I’m strictly a one-woman man,” he said.
I looked up and locked eyes with Ren briefly before he buried his nose in a book again.
“The point is,” I continued without remarking upon his comment, “I think we need to prepare to fight Lokesh the same way Durga fought Mahishasur.”
Kishan blinked, and understanding lit his eyes. Soberly, he leaned forward and took my list from Ren. “I think you’re right, Kelsey. Lokesh wants you in the same way the demon king wanted Durga. You’d better let me see those books.”
I handed him a stack while he scooted closer and put his arm around me. Ren left, and after an hour more of studying, my eyes felt heavy. I nestled my head against Kishan’s strong shoulder and just as I fell asleep, I heard him whisper, “I won’t let him have you, Kelsey. You belong with me.”
My subconscious batted his words back and forth until I imagined a different voice saying the same thing. Only then could my mind drift, comfortable at last.
On the fourth day, we began our final quest to find the City of Light through the volcanic island also known as the Pit of Hell. I hoped the place wasn’t as ominous as it sounded.
Nilima flew us to Visakhapatnam, then over the Bay of Bengal, and we finally touched down in Port Blair. A car was waiting for us when we landed.
As we drove through the town of Port Blair, Nilima shared a fascinating story about Mr. Kadam, who had been captured by the native—and once cannibalistic—Andamanese. Mr. Kadam had shrewdly bargained for his life, eventually becoming an honorary tribal member.
I shook my head, smiled, and wondered how many other amazing stories I never got the chance to hear.
We wound through dense trees on a private road. As we climbed a hill I caught glimpses of the ocean and marveled at the bright colors. Finally, breaking through the tree line, we came upon a beautiful luxury villa on the coast overlooking the Andaman Sea.
The interior design reminded me more of Mr. Kadam’s private jet than of the house in India. The villa was austere and decorated in black and chrome with clean lines. The side of the house facing the ocean was made entirely of glass. Each bedroom had a private balcony, and there was a large terrace, a Jacuzzi, and a marvelous outdoor lounge shaded by palm trees. A magnificent panoramic view of the ocean, a white sand beach, and a four-leveled infinity pool was spread before me. It was beyond spectacular, and I knew that Mr. Kadam wouldn’t have settled for anything less—even in the middle of the Indian Ocean.
Near sunset, after I lit a lamp in honor of Mr. Kadam, Kishan kissed me and said he needed to go into town. Nilima too had preparations to make before we could continue our journey. After eating dinner alone, I decided to hunt down Ren, who had disappeared soon after we had arrived.
I finally found him sitting on his balcony. He was leaning back against the wall with his eyes closed. Soft music played, and a cool ocean breeze blew back my hair as I stepped onto the balcony and inhaled the scent of the sea.
“May I join you?” I asked softly.
He didn’t bother opening his eyes. “If you like.”
The moon in the dark sky looked like a giant white plate dipping its edge into the ocean. We sat quietly for a while. I closed my eyes too and listened to him hum along in harmony with the music.
“You haven’t played your guitar in a long time. I miss it,” I said when the song was finished.
Ren turned away. “I fear there is no music left in me.”
I teased, “‘The man that hath no music in himself, nor is not mov’d with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils.’”
Abruptly standing up, Ren strode across the balcony and settled at the far end of the railing. He leaned out over the side, bracing himself on his elbows.
“I’m sorry,” I said and moved next to him. Putting my hand on his forearm, I touched him lightly. “I didn’t realize you were serious.”
He clasped my hand in his and played with my fingers. “Music reminds me too much of what I can’t have, and yet I can’t stop listening.” He laughed sardonically. “I never understood the connection until you left me and returned to Oregon. I realized then that music was a link to you, a way to keep you close, much the same as my poetry.”
Ren turned toward me and pressed my hand against his heart. “Kelsey, my blood pounds and my heart races when you’re near. I have to make a conscious effort to restrain myself from touching you. From taking you into my arms. From kissing you. I would almost rather be tortured by Lokesh again than be tormented everyday like this by seeing you with Kishan.”
I swallowed and tore my gaze from the handsome man. Instead, I looked at our entwined hands covering his heart. I felt the beat against my palm and fingertips.
Quaking, I whispered, “I’m sorry, Ren,” and slid my hand away.
I could feel the heat and warmth and passion circulate, wrapping tangibly around me. The heat was overwhelming and intense, and my muscles felt about as substantial as warm candle wax.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated stubbornly, “but I just can’t leave Kishan.”
I took a step back, and Ren leaned over the railing again. A new song began. Quietly Ren quoted Shakespeare’s
Twelfth Night
and murmured, “Then, ‘if music be the food of love, play on, give me excess of it; that surfeiting, the appetite may sicken, and so die.’”
Silently, I went back into the house but turned to look at him once more. Standing in the moonlight, Ren really looked the part of Shakespeare’s melancholic Duke Orsino pining for his Lady Olivia. Something wrenched in my heart, and I stifled a sob as I slipped away.
A
s we waited for Nilima to declare we were ready for our next adventure, Kishan took me on picnics, sightseeing, dancing, and window shopping. He bought every flower in the city and had them delivered to my room in fancy arrangements. He took me night swimming—or night wading, as I was still paranoid of sharks. We talked often of Mr. Kadam. Eventually, it became easier to get past the lump in my throat when I heard his name.
Though I was happy enjoying my time with Kishan and feeling closer to him than I had before, I couldn’t help but notice that Ren was pulling further and further away. Kishan dismissed it and said that Ren needed space. Still, I worried.
One afternoon, Kishan suggested lunch on the beach. There were a couple dozen other people already out on the beach, but Kishan found us a spot away from the sunbathers. He set up a huge beach umbrella, and after slathering me with sunscreen, he set out our picnic lunch.
Kishan bustled about excessively happy. He pressed a flute of sparkling apple juice into my hands, he fed me grapes and crackers smeared with caviar. As I hesitantly took my first bite of the delicacy, I found it tasted like butter with a little pop that burst in my mouth with the faint flavor of the sea. After we’d eaten, he kicked off his shoes and took off his shirt and went for a swim while I read a book.
