The Conspiracy at Meru

by Shatrujeet Nath

  “Our estimation was between mid-morning and noon,” Yugandhara replied. “If the winds are favourable, that is.” That was almost two to four hours away, Vararuchi thought without cheer, remembering there were, at the most, a dozen ships coming from Bhrigukaksha. He had no idea how well or how poorly manned each of those vessels were, so pinning hopes on those ships was unreasonable. They had to think of some other way of stopping the Hunas.

  The councilor was about to address his thoughts to Yugandhara when someone let out a sudden shout.

  “What’s that?”

  Almost simultaneously, Vararuchi heard one of the samsaptakas standing at his elbow draw his breath in sharply. “What are they doing?”

  Realizing that the war-horns had fallen silent, Vararuchi glanced at the Huna ships. At first, he saw nothing that warranted a fuss. Then, his eyes trailed further out into the bay – where a broad column of steam was rearing up from the sea’s surface into the air. The councilor guessed the column was many yards in diameter, a thick, spiraling stack of vapour, nearly cloud-like in density, sprouting vertically from the water.

  “It has to be sorcery,” whispered one of the chieftains in awe and fear. “Look at the sea.”

  All of a sudden, the bay’s waters had turned violent again, and waves rose and fell, crashing blindly into one another. Great rollers came rushing at Dvarka’s wharfs, roaring and frothing as they smashed and spilled onto the waterfront, sending showers of spray and mist into the air. Boats were tossed here and there with disdain, and even the bigger barges creaked and corkscrewed in their moorings.

  At the same time, Vararuchi sensed a change in the light. It was not as if the sun had gone behind a cloud – the sky was still without blemish. The light itself had changed, growing darker, thicker and somehow more beastly and ravenous. It was as if the sunlight had been touched by a curse.

  The waves were now rising to worrisome heights, and the swells coming in splashed across the charred and gutted buildings that dotted the city’s shoreline. The spray rose as high as the hillock, drenching the men standing there in fine, salty droplets.

  “This is indeed sorcery,” whimpered one of the Anarta commanders. “The barbarians intend flooding and drowning Dvarka.”

  “Whatever is happening is not the barbarians’ doing,” said the councilor. “Look at their ships. Why would they do that to themselves?”

  The Huna fleet in the bay was in a state of utter disorder. Caught in the vortex of the bizarre upheaval, the ships were being spun and thrown against each other. Even at this distance, the city’s defenders could see the ships’ timbers cracking as they collided, holes opening in their hulls, sails entangling hopelessly. Giant waves battered and washed over the ships’ decks, sweeping Huna warriors into the sea, and a dozen vessels started listing precariously, while at least three turned turtle and began their long journey to the floor of the bay.

  The fate of the Anartas’ own ships moored at sea wasn’t very different – but the fact that there was hardly a soldier or sailor on board was a big consolation. So while the sight of their ships floundering about brought despair to the faces of the Anarta chieftains and commanders, it was overshadowed by the elation they felt at seeing the Huna navy falling apart. A slow cheer started building along the city, growing in volume –

  – but it stilled into an awed silence in a matter of seconds as a serpent’s head, monstrously large, black and hideous, began forming at the top of the swirling column of steam.

  Vararuchi watched the scaly, sinuous head and neck take shape and rise over the Huna fleet. The serpent had a crown of black and brown feathers running from its crest down its back, and its eyes were slits the colour of amber, volcanic and shining with truculence. A forked tongue protruded from its mouth, black as coal. More and more of the monster materialized out of the steam – and then, with a ferocious spin, the column suddenly collapsed and disappeared to reveal the serpent in all its glory and viciousness, shiny black in colour and a league in length.

  “What is this thing?” Yugandhara gasped. “Is there no end.”

  A bone-chilling hiss drowned out the last of the chieftain’s words. It emerged from a place deep within the serpent’s being, raw and full of wickedness, and it dispersed like poison through the air over Dvarka, seeking out fear in the hearts of men. It made the men recoil in horror, shriveling their souls and choking their senses. It was only a sound, barely audible, but it made the men quake with fright.

  The hiss died as abruptly as it had been born, and in the silence, the cries of terror from the Huna ships carried across the bay. The screams appeared to incite the serpent, which turned its head in the direction of the ships, its tongue darting out of its mouth. The next instant, it opened its jaws wide and spewed a jet of greyish-white liquid over the ships.

  The vessels started disintegrating and going up in smoke. Ships broke into two as the timbers that held them together crumbled and turned to sawdust and ash. Sails caught fire, and the flesh of Huna warriors sizzled and melted off their bones as their agonized screams rent the dark sunlight that was rippling with unseen shadows. The men on the hillock watched in fear and fascination as, between them, the serpent and the rough sea decimated the Huna fleet.

  The carnage was not restricted to the bay. The ships that were approaching the coast from the north had drawn to a halt out at sea, but with a swish of its tail that sent a mighty wave at Dvarka, the sea-monster turned on them as well, hissing and discharging its acidic venom. Meanwhile, waves kept assaulting the port, flooding its streets and alleys with seawater.

  Suddenly, for no apparent reason, the creature spun around to survey Dvarka. With a mighty plunge, it disappeared underwater – only to resurface well inside the bay moments later. Water sluicing off its back, its plumes ruffling in the light breeze, the serpent reared up high and glared down at the port, before turning its cold, amber eyes on the hillock, where the war council stood rooted, too stupefied to move.

  “We are finished,” one of the chieftains croaked in a dry, hopeless rattle.

  The next moment, the serpent glimmered and became translucent, its body losing density and substance. Then, with a sudden, noiseless burst that sent a shower of rain all over the waterfront, the beast once again turned to vapour and vanished into the sunlight, which grew bright and cheery almost immediately.

  “On the contrary, I think we are saved.” Letting out a long breath of relief, Vararuchi pointed to the sea.

  The bay was still very disturbed, but the waves had already begun falling into one another and subsiding. Stranded in the middle of the churning waters were the carcasses of the Huna ships – torn, broken and devastated.

  Yaksha

  A fine, powdery spray fell on Vishakha’s upturned face, making her crinkle her eyes in delight. She stuck her tongue out playfully, trying to taste the teensy drops, but catching herself with a self-conscious giggle, she shot a glance at Vikramaditya, who was riding by her side.

  “This is so much better than riding in a carriage or a palanquin,” she said, stretching her palm out to feel the spray.

  The samrat smiled and lifted his own chin to let the droplets fall on his face, wondering when he had last felt the rain – truly felt it, sensed it emotionally – on his skin this way. Not in almost two years, he was certain. Weightier cares and concerns had left little scope for those kinds of feelings.

  “Thank you for agreeing to this outing. And for her,” Vishakha gently patted the neck of the white mare she was riding.

  “I am not the one to be thanked for her,” Vikramaditya nodded at the mare. “The one deserving of that is the soldier of the City Watch who gifted her away when he heard that you liked her.”

  “I will, once we are back in the palace,” said the queen. “Do you think I should give him something… as a token of my thanks? She was his horse, after all.”

  “The Warden of the Stables has already given the soldier an excellent replacement, but yes… something from you would be gre
atly appreciated.”

  King and queen lapsed into silence, allowing the stillness of the morning to take them in its soft embrace. The only sounds were the muted thud of their horses’ hooves on the grassy pathway, and the periodic jangle of harness from behind, where a dozen soldiers of the Palace Guard followed them at a respectful distance. The pathway led through countryside just south of Ujjayini, a small diversion off the main road connecting Ujjayini to Mahishmati. Small, rural farms and paddy fields dotted both sides of the path, and the party occasionally chanced upon herds of buffaloes dawdling in muddy ponds.

  “Aren’t we almost there?” Vishakha enquired, even as the path traversed a narrow bamboo bridge and worked its way up a steep, forested embankment. She looked around her, as if seeking her bearings. “This bridge… and yes, that stone well down there… Isn’t the meadow just over that ridge?”

  The samrat looked keenly at the queen. It amazed him to see her unexpectedly – effortlessly – recall so many things, as if lit pathways had opened magically at her feet, guiding her from memory to memory. Yet, there were places where it was still too dark for her mind to venture…

  “Yes, we are nearly there,” he replied. Leaning a little forward, he asked, “Are you certain you want to go there?”

  “I do,” Vishakha nodded.

  Two nights ago, Vishakha had broached the subject over dinner. Her desire to visit the meadow had surprised the samrat, but Vishakha had persisted. “A visit there is probably all that is needed for me to heal,” she had argued. “Maybe I can end this where it all began.”

  They rode up the gradient in silence, but anticipation – and the nibbling fear of crashing disappointment – leaped and fluttered between them like a heartbeat. Even the two mounts seemed to sense the nervousness and excitement, twitching their ears and tossing their heads as they climbed the steep path.

  Cresting the ridge, Vikramaditya and Vishakha reined in their horses and stared across the shallow valley that separated them from the next ridge, a mile away. The valley was full of wild, fruit-bearing trees, and through their branches, the king and queen saw the flat, grassy floor of the meadow far to the left.

  “There it is,” the samrat pointed.

  Vishakha nodded and looked at him. For a moment, their eyes held, as if afraid to let go, afraid of what the next moment might bring. Then, with another small nod at one another, they disentangled their gaze to survey the meadow once more, before urging their horses down the path into the valley.

  * * *

  – when the time comes, the price the Healer will exact from Ujjayini will be severe.

  Deep in thought, his grey eyebrows knitted together, Shukracharya paced the breadth of his chamber in restlessness.

  The young councilor had mentioned him by name – the Healer. Somehow, she seemed to know – or seemed to have guessed – that he was up to something, that he had a hidden agenda of his own. But how much did the girl really know, and more importantly, who was the mind reader with whom she had been sharing her fears?

  The high priest knew it couldn’t have been Dhanavantri or Vararuchi… or Shanku, for that matter. The physician was in the court of Vatsa, while the king’s half-brother was somewhere in the Anartas. It couldn’t have been Vikramaditya himself – he had seen the king in the mind reader’s thoughts.

  – the boatman says he has ferried the Healer many times, raj-guru.

  He had it. The Acharya!

  The high priest cursed himself for his stupidity. It shouldn’t have taken him this long to guess the mind reader’s identity – the old councilor had always been hostile, and if there was one person capable of secretly probing his thoughts, it was the raj-guru.

  Shukracharya sat down before the mandala. Something had caused the girl to take her suspicions to the Acharya. Who else had they spoken to? Was Kalidasa’s visit last night linked to this? He didn’t suppose so. The giant had come across as being sincere in his plea for help.

  He also didn’t know how much of his thoughts the raj-guru had managed reading. He had sensed the panic in the Acharya’s mind, the fear of having been found out, which meant the councilor had gone deep enough to see and hear his thoughts. The question was whether the raj-guru had learnt enough to incriminate him. And if he had, what he would do with the information.

  Deciding it was best to stay on his guard and wait for the Acharya to reveal his hand first, the high priest turned his attention to the pressing matter of the yaksha. Cradling the bones in his palms, he whispered mantras over them and cast them on the mandala.

  The yaksha has reached the end of its journey.

  Shukracharya sat bolt upright, staring at the bones, checking and crosschecking the answer. Sweeping the pieces up, he chanted on them again and threw them down a second time.

  The yaksha is in a forest to the south of the human kingdom’s capital.

  Again, the bones were picked up and cast down.

  The yaksha lies in wait for that which the human king has promised to protect.

  For one last time, the high priest scattered the bones over the mandala and sought the whereabouts of Veeshada’s dagger.

  It is in the banyan that holds up the field of endless pyres.

  Shukracharya sat back and stared out of the window at the clouds drifting by, grey and miserable. He was confounded. If the Halahala was still somewhere in the tree in Ujjayini’s cremation ground, why wasn’t the yaksha coming to claim it?

  Why, instead, was the yaksha waiting in a forest located to the south of the city – and what was it lying in wait for?

  * * *

  The quick shuffle of approaching footsteps alerted Vetala Bhatta even before he heard the knock on the door. The chief councilor stopped the nervous drumming of his fingers on the arms of the chair and opened his eyes, just as the muted rap of knuckles on wood fell on his ears.

  “Enter,” he said, clearing his throat and rising to his feet in impatience.

  The door opened to reveal a palace attendant standing in the gallery outside. The Acharya stepped toward him with one eyebrow cocked in enquiry. “Is the Mother Oracle back from her bath and ready to see visitors?”

  “I am… your honour, no… I don’t know,” the attendant mumbled in confusion.

  “You don’t know what, young man?” the councilor frowned in irritation. “Aren’t you here to tell me… what are you here for?

  “Councilor Shankubala has urgently requested your presence in the council chamber, your honour.”

  “Why?” Vetala Bhatta’s eyebrows rose in alarm. “What’s happened?”

  “The Mother Oracle has warned of something strange happening in the hills to the north, your honour.”

  When the raj-guru stalked into the council chamber, he found Kalidasa, Kshapanaka, Amara Simha and Shanku already seated at the table. As he nodded his greetings and sat down, Varahamihira hobbled in as well.

  “Has the Samrat been notified to join us?” the Acharya enquired.

  “A message was sent to the Samrat, but it couldn’t be delivered as he is not in the palace, raj-guru,” Shanku replied.

  Seeing the surprise on Vetala Bhatta’s face, Kshapanaka spoke. “The Samrat and Vishakha have ridden to the meadow.” She stressed the last word to make herself clear. “The queen wished to see the place.”

  “I didn’t know if I should send a messenger after them, raj-guru,” Shanku said.

  “We will decide once we hear exactly what the oracle had to say.”

  Seeing all heads turn to her in unison, the girl clasped her hands over the table self-consciously. “The Mother Oracle summoned me to her chamber a little while ago. It seems she was having her bath when she observed a flock of birds in the sky. From their twittering and the beat of their wings, she discerned the birds were in morbid terror of some occurrence in the hills to the north of the city.”

  “What kind of occurrence?” Varahamihira asked.

  “The oracle couldn’t be sure, but she thinks the birds spoke of something col
d and evil being awakened in the hills. She said the birds carried frost and darkness under their wings, so they must have been touched by whatever it was that had frightened them.”

  “There are just two hills to the north of Ujjayini…” The Acharya looked at the faces around the table. “Finding this occurrence shouldn’t pose a huge problem.”

  “I will go,” Amara Simha jumped to his feet with a glare that brooked no arguments. “I know the hills, I know the lay of the land, I know everything. This time I will go.”

  “I don’t think any of us need to go, my friend,” the raj-guru’s tone was sombre. “If something evil is being awakened, its purpose is not to stay in the hills but to come here.”

  As the brawny councilor nodded and subsided in his seat, Kshapanaka said, “Mustn’t we also try and stop those who are awakening whatever this evil is?”

  “I agree.” The Acharya looked across the table at Kalidasa. “Will you ask Angamitra to lead five hundred men of the City Watch to search the hills?”

  Kalidasa nodded. His face was drawn, and it was plain to the raj-guru that the giant had had a poor night’s sleep. You have helped the queen remember – will you help me too? The thought of the Healer made the raj-guru wonder if he had something to do with whatever was coming their way next. Did this too have something to do with all those mysterious nocturnal journeys the Healer had been making?

  “We will need to prepare to defend the city,” he rose to his feet, his manner instilling urgency among his fellow councilors. “Get the City Watch to start patrolling the walls and set up watches on all the towers. Ask the Imperial Army and the samsaptakas to keep their divisions on standby. Alert the Scouts Master, get the gates…” Vetala Bhatta waved a hand. “You all know the routine.”

  “We should send a message to the Samrat alerting him and Vishakha,” Shanku reminded.

  “Immediately,” the raj-guru gave a vigorous nod. “And see to it that the Palace Guards are prepared to move the royal household to the Labyrinth at short notice.”