by Kevin Missal
Durukti dodged the fire directed at her, though some of it burnt her gown.
Symrin fell on the ground, her energy sparkling from her fingers, but nothing happened. She took deep breaths as Durukti came forward.
“Should we take her to the court?” Urvashi asked.
“No. She’s the root of all my problems. She made my brother ill and attempted his assassination,” Durukti announced, fearless. “And worse, she tried to take my memory away.”
Durukti grabbed Symrin by the throat as Urvashi saw her piercing her nails in her skin. Symrin flailed helplessly. She dragged her across the room and tossed her close to the fire. Durukti then pulled out the grill from her to which Symrin screamed in pain.
“Who was that man you were communicating with? The scarred man?”
Urvashi didn’t understand a word of what was going on, but it had an intriguing air to it. Plus, it was getting too hot here and she was breathless. But Urvashi didn’t mind. She liked Durukti’s flames of anger running ablaze. It reminded her of her own self.
“He is the harbinger of change,” Symrin replied, coughing bile and blood.
“Why do you want the Eye of Brahma?”
“It’s lost and separated, and no one knows where it is. My master had it once, only the Third Shard, the one which showed the future, but only for a short amount of time.”
“I know the First Shard shows the past, the Second Shard shows the present, the Third Shard shows the future. What does the Fourth Shard do? TELL ME!”
Symrin was panting, struggling to breathe. “I removed the information. I didn’t want anyone to know, but now it doesn’t matter.”
“What does it DO?”
“It shows you the probable outcome to a particular action of yours. It shows outcomes to your actions which you haven’t performed yet. In that way, you would always take the best path because you’ll know which choice needs to be made.”
“But isn’t that similar to the Third Shard?”
“The Third Shard only shows the future. It doesn’t show how your choices determine your fate. Fate is a tricky thing . . . In this case, your choices determine your fate and thus, this particular . . .” she coughed, “this particular thing is bound to happen. There is no way to change it. The future is intangible.” She paused, thoughtfully musing to herself. “I just thought if I could find it, I could use my energies to locate it and please him . . . please him.” She repeated it again and again, as if lamenting her failure in her mission.
“You love him. That’s why you did all of it. He’s not just your master.”
Symrin nodded. “He’s my soulmate.”
Urvashi could hear Durukti’s voice calming at that statement. “Who is he? Please tell me.”
“If I do,” Urvashi saw Symrin turning, her teeth tinged with blood as she giggled manically, “all we did, all that we have planned, will be worthless.” She paused for a moment before murmuring in resignation, “You cannot change your fate.”
And then Symrin pushed herself frantically inside the furnace, her head burning in the boiling fire as Durukti stepped back in horror. Urvashi couldn’t bear the sight and they hugged each other as they saw Symrin’s flesh dissolving, her bare, broken bones visible to her two enemies.
Urvashi led Durukti outside, wondering about the information she had received from Symrin and how much Durukti knew about it. The scarred man? The Eye of Brahma? This was information beyond the ordinary. As they left the underground cells, they realized they were in the middle of a half-empty street, the dawn was almost near, and the skies had a scarlet thread, cutting right across the overcast clouds. Wind was sharp and the sound of sudden footsteps of the civilians irritated Urvashi.
“Who would have thought . . . two princesses fighting witches and travelling without their entourage behind them?” Urvashi grinned to herself.
“We don’t need men or soldiers to handle us.” Durukti winked at her.
“You know I shouldn’t ask you about what happened down there—”
“Don’t.” Durukti shook her head. “It has turned out to be a deeper mess than I had imagined. And I don’t want to get into it. I pity her, you know. She never received what she longed for. I don’t want you to get into this mess, Urvashi. I don’t want to lose my friend,” she smiled at Urvashi, “because I intend to be in her company for a long, long time.”
“You can have my company, if you don’t piss me off.”
They both laughed as the city in front of them gleamed brilliantly. They walked forward, hiding their faces so that no one would recognize them, until Urvashi realized that all the people were running in the same direction. She narrowed her eyes and instead of going back to her fort, she made way to the crowd that had assembled, with Durukti on her side.
“Was there any carnival today?”
“I presume not,” Durukti responded.
They walked in the midst of the crowd, holding each other’s hands, and followed the people to see what was happening. Wooden barricades had been put in front while guards stood over the pedestal where announcements were made. And then, Urvashi saw Lord Kali. Lord Kuvera was sitting at the back, with a bored expression.
And she saw someone else.
Her father.
He wasn’t standing. Rather, he was kneeling on the ground, his hands bound, his entire front naked. Urvashi could see dark, maligning scars that ran across his back. His hair was greasy and his beard bloody.
No. This is not happening.
Urvashi glanced at Durukti and she began to move to protect him, but Durukti grabbed her hand. She calmly whispered, “Don’t. If you go as well, Kali will kill you.”
“The crimes of the betrayers shall be answered in face of the public. Lord Vedanta, the former king of Indragarh, went against the crown and for those who go against the crown, they shall be met with one fate.” Lord Kali, in his shining golden robe, unsheathed his sword and laid it close to Vedanta’s neck. “Lord Vedanta rebelled against me and killed an officer of the court. General Pradm, from the Rakshas regiment met a harsh end. In most cases, an executor would be doing what I’m doing right now, but I choose to do it myself since the king himself must pass the sentence and execute it.”
Urvashi was stunned, frozen. Please don’t.
“Do you apologize?” Kali asked Vedanta as the public booed in unison. “Apologize and I shall let you live.”
“May Lord Indra’s Vajra . . .” his sentence was cut off as Lord Kali sliced his head, beheading it from his body.
The head popped and dropped from the pedestal, hidden behind the guards who covered the pedestal. Blood sprayed from the body as it motionlessly fell over to the side.
No.
Urvashi almost fainted.
“We are leaving,” said Durukti through her gritted teeth. She looked at Urvashi with concern. “He will come after you now. You need to be safe.”
Urvashi was motionless.
Her hands drooped down, away from Durukti’s palms. In pain. Anger. Betrayal.
Padma prepared herself for the duel.
She hated the fact that she had to duel someone she didn’t know—mostly she killed people based on contracts, not out of personal vendetta. Vedanta’s soldiers had to die because they had killed her brothers. And she will do her utmost to defend herself from anyone who was a threat to her. There was a reason behind the kill. Always.
In this situation, she was being forced to commit the same act under the command of a creature. Brahmaputraksh was not human. He was a deranged creature—who wilfully spoke Padma’s language, but was also very primitive in his style of walking, with half-bent and slouched shoulders. His skin was dark, just like the Rakshas, and he had red lips smeared wide over his face, probably cherry or worse . . . blood.
Padma was in her own hut with Kalki and Kripa on her side, while Aina was on the other end of the hut with Ratna Maru and Smrit. They were whispering and their language was what caught Padma’s attention. They were not Manavs. They
were Apsaras. But they don’t look like their kind.
A sense of relief washed over her since Apsaras were easy to kill. Hell, they weren’t even the warrior kind. They were seductresses often employed at brothels to please the rich merchants and kings. They couldn’t fight. Nowhere in history had there ever been a record of an Apsara fighting in a battle. They were always kept in the inner quarters to please the men, or in some instances, women.
Brahmaputraksh let them choose their weapons and Padma asked for her two daggers that had been taken by Darooda Simha, back in the cave. When rummaging through the rucksack of Darooda, they had found those daggers—saffron-hilted with a crazy, studded with a gleaming gem. She swung them in the air, practising for the fight.
“Anything else I should know about these beings?” she asked.
Kripa shrugged. “Only that if you die, lass, they’ll eat you.”
Padma rolled her eyes at the thought of her body being ripped by a dozen Pisach. “I don’t understand why they make people duel. Why don’t they easily consume them?”
“I wish I knew. Perhaps it’s a fun sport for them. To eat the weaker kind and reward the stronger one with the spoils of the battle and to live another day. You see those skulls that Brahmaputraksh wore?”
Padma nodded, so did Kalki. Padma gave him a contemptuous look. The so-called saviour. But he couldn’t proclaim it now, not especially when someone else was fighting the battles. Ugh.
“These skulls signify the people he has killed to come to this position. They believe the strongest shall rule them and if not, they will be eaten, for they are good for nothing but food. That’s why there aren’t a lot of Pisach out here in the world. They keep eating each other. Kind of poetic, eh?” He giggled nervously.
“Why did you nudge me back then when you heard his name?” Padma was in no mood to joke. She never joked, now that she thought about it. Sadly, she couldn’t even remember the last time she had smiled. Not the snarky, sarcastic smile she had for Kalki’s stupidity, but genuine laughter. Oh, it has been ages.
“Because Brahmaputraksh is someone I’ve heard of. Back when I was trying to stop the spread of Soma and I was down there at Suparnika, disguised as a traveller to burn down their Somalata plants, I had heard rumours about Brahmaputraksh. He was a Suparn whose family had been burnt down by the Nagas during one of their teensy battles.” He frowned at the thought. “And he went mad. Killed a bunch of Suparns for not doing their duty. Since the Suparns were quite the majestic kind, they exiled him. I suppose he ended up here. Ugh, you should have seen how he killed the men—guts out, lungs eaten up, faces scarred . . .”
Kalki shook his head. “That’s enough, old man.”
“All right.”
“Did you burn the Somalata plants?”
“Some of them. The Suparns won’t let them out of their sight.”
Kalki intervened. “I don’t understand what was the use of the immortality you have, the endowment you received. Here you stand and the Somas stay exactly where they are. It seems like you practically did nothing to stop the spread of the Somas.”
“Hey! I did, all right. It’s just . . .” he got awkward, “I kind of got tired of failing.”
Kripa grew pensive. Kalki decided to change the subject.
“You know, sometimes I wonder . . . what if we are wrong and it’s not Kali? What if it’s someone else and we are just targeting the wrong guy?”
Kripa looked uncertain. Padma had learnt enough about the prophecy—Somas, Dharm, Adharm, Endowments, the Breaking. She knew exactly what Kalki was talking about, since Kripa had explained to her when they were ascending the hills.
“Mate, Kali fits the poster of the ultimate bad guy.”
Kalki furrowed his brows. “I sure hope so.”
“Can anyone be a Pisach? I mean, if they fight their way up to the ladder.” The idea seemed interesting.
“Yes. Unlike other tribes where you are born into a certain role, Pisach and Apsaras are two tribes which are achieved and not ascribed,” Kripa affirmed.
“They seem quite the same as the Rakshas.”
Kripa shook his head. “Oh, I wish. Rakshas are military men, sort of crazy, but they follow a code. They fight for a cause while the Pisach don’t. They are just dense maniacs and one must stay away from them as much as possible. Which makes me question, have built your strength throughout our journey?” He grinned at Kalki.
Kalki snorted.
Padma let out a guffaw. Her tension eased a bit. That is when she noticed a Pisach entering the tent, with the same ragged loins, nail jewellery around his neck, and dirty, messy hair. He stomped his feet.
“I think it’s time.” Kalki looked at her.
Padma looked back at him. At that moment, she could see he was afraid for her as well. Wait . . . is he . . . worried? I thought he hated me.
“Just don’t get killed, all right?” He awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. The gesture made her happy, though she would never admit it to anybody.
Padma nodded, and avoided his gaze as she walked to the exit and moved towards the net which was in between two trees. The net was being used as the arena. She realized it was going to be quite tough for her to move fast. She had good footwork when it came to duelling, but that advantage won’t be of much use now.
She stepped over to the net when she realized her spectators were several Pisach. They had climbed over the vines and were hanging from them. Some even hung upside down. They all hooted and howled as Padma rocked the net, desperately trying to control her balance.
Aina jumped on the net and cradled her body, straighteing her posture. She had a strange weapon—a dagger axe. On one end, it was an axe with a jutted blade protruding and glimmering. On the other end, it was conical and the dagger blade was coming out, sharp.
Brahmaputraksh stood at the other end of the net, on a bridge that towered over the two trees, a few paces away from the net since all of the area was covered with vines, canopies, foliage, marshes, and branches. He spoke in a weird lingo and everyone went silent. And then he clapped his hands which made everyone loudly chatter.
Padma looked at Kripa and Kalki who had clenched faces, while Ratna Maru and Smrit were quite calm.
And then, Aina came forward swishing her axe towards Padma’s face. She instantly fell back, her foot getting caught in the space of the net and her sandle slipped and fell down in the swamp. Padma just realized there was a swamp beneath them and it was the best way to die in there, lest she be defeated.
Aina didn’t care. Her moves were swift and she was calculating the space between the nets as she attacked again. But this time, Padma deflected her axe by one dagger and with another she slashed her knees. At that moment, the hooting grew and Aina fell.
And as Padma bought herself time, she tried to pull her foot out of the net, but it was just twisting more into a knot and she was getting worried. I won’t be able to fight like this.
Aina, bleeding now, still went for the attack and Padma tried to roll over, but her foot hindered her from doing so. Aina disarmed her by taking one of her weapons. Taking her dagger, she smashed it hard on Padma’s shoulder, almost stabbing her. But Padma stopped her by using her other dagger and with her free foot she plunged a kick in Aina’s abdomen. Aina fell back, groaning in pain.
Padma went for the dagger which was in the corner. Reaching out to it in anger, Aina walked over it calmly and just kicked it away from the net. It fell in the swamp, drowning with a plomp.
“Now that was a coward’s move.”
Aina shrugged. She had some weird ink over her face and Padma realized it wasn’t just any ink—it was a brand given to Apsaras by their owners. Most owners don’t do it since it spoils their faces, though some do it to show ownership over their property. And by the looks of it, she was quite frustrated from being owned by someone.
“I know you are an Apsara,” Padma tried to distract her. The Pisach hooted in the background. “I know someone owned you and I’m sorry.”<
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“I don’t care if you are sorry. I intend to survive. That’s all that matters.”
“I know. I have been taught the same thing.” Padma was buying time, thinking of ideas. “Ever since I was young, ever since I lost my family, I had been taught to kill. Things changed when I met this individual who taught me that there’s more than just killing. There’s life and life is greater than anything.” And in that brief moment, she admitted to herself that she missed Arjan.
“It doesn’t matter what you say, girl. Either you live or I do.”
“I’m glad you were liberated from the clutches of a man.” Padma came up with a move she could use. “That’s why I’m sorry for what I’m gonna do.”
Aina narrowed her gaze in confusion. Padma instantly turned to the farthest corner of the net, grabbed it and turned the net upside down. Aina slipped from it, collapsing deep in the swamp, while Padma didn’t, since her foot was caught in the net and she hung upside down, but with a grin. Though she wasn’t able to ignore the wails and cries of Aina as she tried to save herself by swimming in the swamp. Her effort was in vain as she started drowning.
She saw Brahmaputraksh grinning as he clapped. The Pisach who were hanging from the vines tied those vines back up and jumped in the swamp only to pull Aina up.
Aina was grateful for her rescue. She spluttered water from her mouth. There was a sense of relief before Aina realized that her clothes were being torn by the Pisach in mid-air, her skin was being scratched, and her head was being sucked and eaten by the cannibal.
Padma rested her eyes and took some water from the bucket the Pisach had given her. She washed her face in a hurry. She felt responsible for what had just happened. The image of the Pisach eating Aina alive was replaying in her mind. It was a dishonourable way to go, but it turned out to be worse since the killing was inhumane. In fact, everyone had turned their faces except Ratna, who had watched it intently.
She was in the hut again and her feet ached and her stomach lurched with disgust. “I lost my sandles,” she spoke to herself, her eyes half closed.