by Samit Basu
‘Why? Let Potolpur rescue the prince! And if Kol wants the sword so badly, let them slay the rakshasi! Rukmini, child, it’s getting late, and these matters are out of your hands.’
‘But it’s an heirloom, Nidhi, and one of our most famous ones.’
‘There are other heirlooms, and lives are more important. The times are changing, and our people need you. It would be foolishness indeed to venture off into the woods in pursuit of the rakshasi and needlessly put yourself in danger, when dark and doubtful times are ahead. Think of the throne. There is no heir, and you are so young. Find someone else to get the sword back. Come, now, we must hurry.’
‘Say the hero’s name, Asvin.’
‘Raka,’ said Asvin, and prodded the smooth silvery surface of the mirror with a tentative finger. It was colder than ice. He drew his finger back. It left a black fingerprint on the mirror.
‘It’s working,’ said Mantric.
Like ink thrown in water, the black spot expanded in swirling and flowing clouds, swiftly spreading all over the shiny oval surface. Soon the surface was completely black, and they saw little shining dots appear, twinkling on a dark bed.
‘Is that supposed to be the night sky?’ asked Maya.
‘Either that, or just a pretty pattern,’ said Mantric. ‘Step forward, Asvin.’
Asvin took a deep breath and took a step. It was like walking into a silken curtain as soft folds of darkness swept over him. It was no longer cold, and suddenly there was a rush of wind, a second passed which seemed to stretch into years, and his foot fell on a marble floor. He stepped out of the mirror and looked around. He was in Durg.
‘Well, he appears to be Simoqin’s hero, doesn’t he,’ said Gaam, smiling.
Mantric took a deep breath. ‘I suspect you can pass through the mirror while it is black,’ he said. ‘It was probably Asvin’s touch that brought about the transformation. You should hurry, who knows how long it will last.’
Gaam walked up to the mirror. ‘Very well,’ he said and put his hand into the mirror, watching as it disappeared into inky nothingness. He walked in.
Then something hit him.
‘What on earth was that?’ cried Rukmini. ‘Who was that man?’ She grasped a robe and covered herself with it. ‘Stop pouring water on me! Now you’ve got the robe all wet! Get my sari!’ she shouted at an offending handmaiden, who stopped staring dreamily at the mirror and rushed off.
‘He was very handsome,’ giggled another handmaiden.
‘It is a sign of evil times,’ said Nidhi, in a voice of doom. ‘Never before has the sacred Dawn Water Ritual been disturbed. That man must be found and killed.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Nidhi,’ snapped Rukmini. ‘Did you see the poor man’s face? He clearly had no intention of walking in on me bathing. This is obviously a magic mirror.’
‘I did not know, your Majesty,’ said Nidhi, trembling. ‘The fault is mine. It was I who brought this mirror to the Chamber of the Dawn Bath thirty years ago, for your dear mother. I did not know – I merely thought it sad that a pretty mirror such as this should be lying locked up in a small room in the tower. I am the one guilty of violating the sacred Ritual. I should be executed immediately.’
‘Oh be quiet for a minute, Nidhi,’ snapped Rukmini, as a handmaiden rushed up with her sari. ‘Personally, I’m quite glad this happened – now the Ritual cannot be held sacred any more and I can bathe alone, as I have always wanted to!’
‘But get a few spears,’ she said to her maidens. ‘If I know anything of men, he will be back.’
Gaam and Asvin came hurtling out of the mirror, nearly crashing into Maya. They rolled around on the floor for a while, and then got up, Asvin clutching his arm, where, in the heat of the moment, Gaam had bitten him.
‘What happened, Asvin?’ asked Mantric, looking concerned. ‘You’ve gone all red.’
‘Wad there a monster? A rakshas?’ asked Gaam.
‘No,’ said Asvin. ‘Please do not ask me what happened. I cannot go back there.’
‘Where? You did get to Durg, didn’t you?’
‘We must get another sword. The Durgan one is out of the question, now.’
‘What did you manage to upset?’ asked Maya. ‘You were barely in there for ten seconds.’
‘I cannot speak of it,’ said Asvin.
‘Unfortunately, you have to,’ said Mantric.
Asvin turned various shades of red and purple, but finally the scorching gazes emanating from the others broke him down. ‘It was a bath-chamber,’ he said. ‘Queen Rukmini was not…’
‘Say no more,’ said Maya. ‘It could have happened to anyone.’ She didn’t look happy.
‘Don’t make me go back,’ pleaded Asvin.
‘All right, I’ll do it,’ said Maya. The mirror had turned silver again the moment Asvin had emerged from it. ‘Touch the mirror.’ Asvin did so, and as soon as it went black Maya walked through.
As she entered the Chamber of the Dawn Bath, she noticed many things.
All of them were spearheads, and they were pointing at her.
‘I don’t remember inviting you,’ said Rukmini. She was not dressed for fighting, like the guards with the spears, but she held a long, curved sword.
‘Sorry,’ said Maya. ‘Etiquette never was my strong point. You can put the spears down. I’m Durgan. Well, my parents were Durgan. You’ve heard of my father – the spellbinder Mantric. My name is Maya. You probably don’t remember, but we’ve met once, five years ago.’
The guards kept their spears at her throat, and looked at Rukmini.
‘She’s telling the truth, your Majesty,’ said a guard suddenly. Maya looked at her, surprised. ‘You won’t remember me,’ the girl said, ‘but I used to study at Enki. I dropped out in two years – I was hopeless at magic.’
‘Mantric is, of course, well known here.’ Rukmini nodded. As the spears came down, she said ‘Spellbinders? I should have known. Who was the man?’
Gaam suddenly appeared through the mirror. ‘Is the hero coming?’ Maya asked him. ‘Your father is still trying,’ Gaam replied. He strode forward.
‘Queen Rukmini? Greetings from Kol. My name is Gaam, and I have been sent by the Chief Civilian on an urgent errand. I apologize for the abrupt manner of our arrival – it was not planned thus.’
Rukmini and Nidhi exchanged glances. Rukmini dismissed the guards and handmaidens and said ‘Did your people put this mirror in Durg?’
‘No, your Majesty. This mirror has always been for centuries – it belonged to Queen Raka, and its purpose was one that should remain secret. I believe you have consented to lend the Sword of Raka to Kol?’
‘Yes, but Lady Temat has not yet told me why Kol needs this sword.’
‘May I speak freely?’ asked Gaam, shooting a wary glance at Nidhi.
‘You may. Nidhi has cared for me since I was born.’
‘We are training a hero, in case the rakshas Danh-Gem returns. You have heard of the Simoqin Prophecies? Well, we believe we have found the hero. It is a secret of course, but one that I am sure is safe with you.’
‘Yes,’ said Rukmini. ‘And where is this hero?’
‘He was the one who so rudely interrupted you a while ago.’
‘I’ll go get him,’ said Maya, turning around and walking into the mirror.
She bounced off it and fell. Of course, it had closed, they couldn’t go back without Asvin…
‘We appear to be stuck here,’ she said.
‘We must appear really rude,’ said Gaam. ‘We were testing this mirror – we had no idea it would make us appear like this, I must apologize again.’
‘It’s really all right,’ said Rukmini, looking amused. ‘But can you not tell me any more about the hero, or the mirror?’
‘I am afraid not. My lips…’
‘Are sealed, no doubt. Very well. Well, I had indeed agreed to lend Raka’s sword to Kol. But I am afraid I cannot now.’
‘And why not, may we ask?�
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‘Because,’ said Rukmini, ‘Raka’s sword is lost.’
The standard replies to such dramatic revelations are ‘What!’, ‘How?’ , ‘No!’ or ‘Then die, infidel!’ but Gaam said ‘Oh, there you are.’
This was because Asvin, no doubt due to the uncanny knack that heroes have of making dramatic, perfectly timed entrances, had chosen the stunned silence following Rukmini’s announcement to walk out of the mirror.
He looked at Rukmini sheepishly and said ‘I, um…’
‘She said it was quite all right,’ said Maya sharply.
Rukmini was smiling. ‘Is this the hero?’ she asked. ‘And does he have a name?’
‘No,’ said Gaam. ‘Not yet.’
‘I see. Well, welcome to Durg, nameless one. It is a beautiful land, full of beautiful sights.’ Asvin blushed, but saw she was still smiling, and breathed again.
Maya’s face grew thunderous. Little sparks are flying whenever their eyes meet. ‘You didn’t tell us about the sword,’ she said abruptly.
‘I will. I see you are as impatient as your father, Mala,’ said Rukmini, smiling.
‘Maya,’ said Maya, smiling right back. And fine, so you have long, glossy black hair, but if you toss it around again I’ll singe it off.
But it was not until afternoon that they found out about the sword. The Durgans lived simply, but were generous hosts, and the biryanis they had for lunch made them forget all their troubles. After lunch, Rukmini took them to an empty hall and told them what had happened.
Queen Rukmini’s most ardent and unquenchable suitor was Prince Chorpulis of Potolpur. Their fathers had been friends, and he had used that excuse to haunt the fortress nearly all his life, hoping to wear down Rukmini’s defences through sheer perseverance. He had written terrible poems about her since they were both thirteen years old. Apart from his dubious poetic skills, he had many sterling qualities. It was just that no one knew what they were. He claimed the best thing about him was his sensitivity, but since, after seven years of courtship, he had still not realized that nearly everyone in Durg hated him, that was hopefully not true.
On his last visit, Chorpulis had decided that the reason Rukmini was not relenting and marrying him (the best and most eligible suitor possible) was not maidenly coyness as he had supposed so far but a typically (uncultured) Durgan preference for action over words. It was not that he was not a man of action, of course. But he preferred the finer things in life. Nevertheless, he had told her, if she wanted him to perform some crude task to prove his manliness and his courage, he was willing to do so.
Rukmini had laughed at him and told him to fetch her a hair from a yeti’s beard. This had kept him quiet for a while, but soon he was back, telling her that he could not fulfill this request owing to an unfortunate shortage of yetis, but to prove his peerless courage he would walk (with her) through all the perils of Shantavan. He had pestered her for months, and she had agreed, just to be rid of him – for she knew that he would not even manage the walk through Shantavan.
Unfortunately, the prince had decided to take the sword of Raka with him – he had bored the guardians of the sword to tears, and borrowed it – to fight the nameless terrors they would meet in the forest and thus impress Rukmini, and the young queen had been completely unaware of this. South Shantavan was perfectly harmless for anyone accompanied by a Durgan, of course, and they had passed through it peacefully, Chorpulis’ servants riding behind at a suitably discreet distance.
It was when they had walked deep into the forest that things had changed. Suddenly there was less sunlight and more strange noises, and Chorpulis kept jumping in fright and hiding behind trees at the slightest noise, and then pretending he had only gone there to study paw-prints, for the best woodmen knew that the best prints were behind trees. Then disaster had struck.
The rakshasi Akarat, who had risen again, woken by the growing magic in the air and the earth, was prowling through the Peaceful Forest, and had seen Rukmini and Chorpulis. The terrible she-demon had either fallen deeply and immediately in love with Chorpulis or had simply thought he looked like a tasty snack.
An hour later, Rukmini, who had been walking fast, trying to ignore Chorpulis prattling away by her side, had seen the most beautiful stag ever. It was a dreamlike beast, bright golden in colour, its antlers shining in the sunlight. Rukmini had immediately given chase, forgetting all about the Potolpuri prince. Chorpulis had trembled in fear and clutched her arm as she was springing off after the stag, so to calm him down she had drawn a big circle around him in chalk, and told him that he was safe as long as he stayed inside the circle and didn’t wander around reciting poetry to the trees.
But the stag had outrun her. She had realized, too late, that it had been an illusion, probably the work of a rakshas, and had run back to where she had left Chorpulis. To find an empty circle, in which lay a scabbard that she had recognized, too late, as the beautiful sheath in which Raka’s sword had lain in state for years.
Now Chorpulis was probably either in the rakshasi’s den or in her belly, and the sword was missing too. Rukmini had learnt it was Akarat the rakshasi who had abducted Chorpulis from her friend Lalmohan the eagle, who had chased Akarat after she had abducted Chorpulis.
‘I do not know what to do,’ said Rukmini, pacing up and down the sunlit hall. ‘If it is indeed Akarat the rakshasi, poor Chorpulis must be dead – she was one of the most terrible demonesses ever to walk the forest, and her return is terrible news. Frankly, I am more concerned about the sword. I want to go to Shantavan and retrieve it, but my advisers are set against it. And I cannot risk the lives of my warriors over a sword, even if it is an heirloom.’
‘It’s painfully obvious what must be done,’ said Gaam. ‘We will get the sword back for you –after all, we are the ones who want it. We will slay this rakshasi, and bring back some token of the prince for those who wish to remember him.’
‘I will come with you,’ said Rukmini.
‘No, your Majesty, your advisers are right. Evil times may be coming, and you must take care of yourself.’
‘Very well. I will lend you horses and soldiers who will escort you to the circle where Chorpulis was taken. They will wait for you in southern Shantavan, and bring you back here when you return after slaying Akarat. I will send word to Lalmohan the eagle, and he will lead you to her lair. You cannot imagine what a burden you have taken off my shoulders. May the moon shine on your swords. And when you get the sword back – well, you may keep it. Consider it a gift from Durg, for Akarat had slain many great Durgan warriors ages ago.’
She looked at Asvin, and smiled. ‘I know in my heart you will succeed, and I will see you again. I will make all the arrangements immediately,’ she said, and walked out regally.
‘Well, no point hanging around, is there. Let’s go,’ said Maya. To Asvin she said, ‘This is what happens when you crave violence, and think the quests you are sent on are too tame. We get sent on a suicide mission.’
‘Aren’t you excited? This will be a great adventure! And of course I should go on a quest to get my sword – it’s the way things should be. I have always wanted to fight rakshases. And I have heard and read so much about the terrible Akarat, and to think it is my destiny to slay her! I will cut off her nose and bring it to Rukmini. Isn't she beautiful? Rukmini, that is.’
He looked really happy.
Maya and Gaam looked at each other, and shook their heads.
Two days later, they met Lalmohan the eagle on the northern edge of South Shantavan. They dismounted, and Lalmohan led them to the circle where Chorpulis had been taken.
The eagle told them he had seen the rakshasi approach Chorpulis in human form. She had walked into the circle after talking to him for some time, picked him up and run back to her lair. Lalmohan had followed them until Akarat had seen him and knocked him out with a well-aimed stone, but he had seen where her lair was. She had dug an underground lair in the forest, strewn with the bones of her victims.
&nbs
p; Akarat was a very powerful rakshasi, Lalmohan said. She could change her shape and size at will, and she had killed and eaten many noble beasts in the jungle, and humans too, whenever she could get them.
Lalmohan took them as far as he dared, which was within an hour’s march of Akarat’s lair.
It was noon – rakshases were supposed to hunt at night – so they sat at the foot of a tree and argued about the best way to kill a rakshas. Asvin wanted to challenge Akarat and fight her single-handed, but Gaam reminded him that Akarat, if she grew to full size, could wipe out an entire army. Finally they decided that Asvin and Gaam would sneak in and try to steal the sword as she slept, and would kill her in her sleep and rescue the prince if he were still uneaten. Asvin was quite violently opposed to killing her in this dishonourable way, until Gaam told him that whatever the legends said, this was how most rakshases and dragons had been killed, because it was simply impossible for humans to fight them face to face. Shantavan throbbed with magic now that the rakshases had returned, and Maya felt very powerful, but she knew that human magic had never affected rakshases much, and she wouldn’t be of much use.
‘We must be very quiet. Rakshases wake at the slightest sound,’ said Gaam, as they grew closer to Akarat’s lair. ‘We must hope she is asleep, because she would smell our blood otherwise. We must attack every bird or beast we see now, because the really powerful rakshases were all excellent shape-shifters, and Akarat was very powerful.’
The land was quite hilly. Further north there were deep ravines, where Pushpdev Rabin, the Bandit King, held sway over the passages through the jungle, robbing the rich and paying the poor for food and shelter. They walked ahead stealthily. Shantavan was green, rich and beautiful. The sun was high in the sky, but the forest was growing thicker – it had been a while since they had felt sunlight on their faces, they were constantly covered in shadows as they passed under the great trees. An hour passed. They reached the twin boulders and the cleverly dug tunnel between them that Lalmohan had told them about – the entrance to Arakat’s lair.