by Samit Basu
But even so, I was already the most powerful ruler in the world.
I returned to Asroye. I had been missed there, but no one suspected who I really was. I met Isara in secret, and our meeting was joyous, for she loved me dearly too.
One day, in rakshas form, I caught a ravian in the forest and sent him to the King with a letter, formally worded in flawless ravianic, begging for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Fool that I was.
The King was enraged. I realized the depths of my idiocy – I had realized long ago that he would not even let her marry a low-caste ravian and I actually thought he would let her marry a rakshas!
The ravians hunted down one of my brothers, Kirin. They killed him. He had done nothing to them – they simply killed him because another rakshas had dared to presume to ask for the ravian princess’ hand. And on his body they had scrawled the most arrogant, the most humiliating message possible. Pacing through the jungle anxiously, waiting for word from the King, I found the mutilated body of my brother.
‘But you told me…’
Yes.
‘I see. Go on.’
My fury knew no bounds. I now knew I had wasted all those years – taken so many lives, destroyed so many families – chasing something that would never be mine.
And then I found out that my love was betrothed to Simoqin, Lord Simoqin the Dreamer, high-caste, gentle ravian-lord, handsome, noble, brave. I could not bear it.
I took ravian form, entered Asroye, and lured Simoqin out. Then as a rakshas, I fought him in the forest, summoned Mritik and bore Simoqin back to Imokoi.
He was stronger than I thought. Long we fought under the shadows of the trees. He wounded me – Danh-Gem ran a long finger along the scar on his cheek – but I was stronger. But when we were done, and in Imokoi, I realized I had made a mistake. Of course, the ravians started the quarrel with the rakshases, but bringing Simoqin to Imokoi was not wise. For I knew in my heart that if the ravians joined against me, I would lose. They were too strong for me.
It was from Simoqin that I found out that the ravians were planning to leave this world, that some of them thought they were harming it with the great infusion of magic they had brought into it. And then a thought struck me – what if I could return after they had gone? What if I could avoid their trap?
‘And then you wrote the Prophecy on Simoqin’s chest,’ said Kirin.
Yes. Of course, as you may know, I did not believe in prophecies, so the silly rhyme I scrawled on Simoqin’s chest was a savage joke – revenge, if you will.
‘The Prophecy was a joke?’
Initially. But then the idea was born in my head – why not make my own prophecy true? If the ravians fought me, I would disappear, I would return when they had gone. The Prophecy, if it were made known throughout the lands, would ensure that my followers remembered me when I returned from hiding, and that they would be ready to obey my commands.
I wanted the ravians to read what I had written, for only then would my brother be avenged. So, as Narak, I returned to Asroye, with Simoqin. The fool was barely alive, and quite mad. He kept on babbling about some dream he had seen, of a mirror and a hero. He repeated this to Isara, and died.
‘The hero Simoqin spoke of does exist, actually,’ said Kirin. ‘He is a very brave and noble young man.’
We need not bother with Simoqin’s hopes. They were all doomed to failure. Let me return to my tale.
After my return to Asroye, I dwelt there for a while, ruling Imokoi from afar. I became Asroye’s greatest hero. The ravian-rakshas war started, and my blows struck deeper than any other. The ravians did not follow their own noble battle-rules – they fought as dirtily as the most desperate rakshases. They used bribery, treachery, deceit, traps – and so did we, I confess. It was war. I was a part of the councils of the ravians – I would know which of the asurs, humans and rakshases were turning traitor, and would have them killed. At the same time, I would venture forth to battle with other ravian heroes, and I would be the only one who returned.
A year after Simoqin’s death, your mother and I were secretly betrothed.
Even my own forces did not know the truth behind Narak the Demon-hunter. None save my brothers, none of whom survived the war, and my wily cousin Aciram.
‘He thinks I am you,’ said Kirin.
When I knew that all the ravians looked up to me, I asked the King for his daughter’s hand. And was refused, as I have told you before. It mattered not that I was the greatest of the ravian heroes – my caste alone made me unworthy of her. But this time, many of the King’s most powerful generals were on my side, and so was the Princess herself. We married, and were banished from Asroye. But even in exile, we were famous.
But the more I saw the might of the ravians, the more I knew that my days were numbered. And I knew I could not tell Isara the truth – she hated rakshases, like all ravians. I realized that the only way to defeat the ravians was to outlast them, to lie in wait until they left. To make my own prophecy come true.
Danh-Gem stopped walking around, and sat down. He looked at Kirin, and smiled suddenly. A gentle light shone in his eyes. He was silent for a few moments, and then he spoke again, louder, because the rain was falling hard outside the Circle.
Then you were born. You cannot imagine how happy I was that day, Kirin. But I could not spend time with you, as I wished to – there was always some war, some hero to dispose of, some traitor to eliminate. And no matter how long I studied magic, ravian or rakshas, I could not find a spell mighty enough to wake me up after two hundred years. So I decided it would be you. If the ravians won, I would save you from the dangerous portal and somehow guide you, somehow ensure you were the most powerful being walking this world.
As I told you, I always had an alternative plan.
‘And that’s why I’m here today, is it? Because I was your alternative plan.’
I decided that whether I survived or not, you would have the chance to rule the world. You would have the chance to do what your father could not – utterly defeat the stratagems of the ravians. I began to look for spells that would keep me preserved in some form for two hundred years, and at the same time I started writing the book of Narak. If I won the Great War, I thought, if I destroyed the ravians, I would give you all the love any father could. If I failed, however, I wanted to be sure that you would have everything I had struggled for, that your life would be extraordinary.
The War was at its peak, then, and my brothers were sending me messages urging me to return to Imokoi and lead the dragons into battle against Kol. I left Vrihataranya, to prepare for the Last Battle, knowing I might never see your mother again. I bade my love farewell for the last time. It was then that she revealed that she had secretly prepared a spell, a spell mighty enough to slay me. I was shocked, but I persuaded her to wait for a year. It would take me that much time, I thought, to either annihilate the ravians or create a spell that would make me sleep for two hundred years, like the one I had made for you.
‘Did she never suspect that you were a rakshas?’
No.
‘You must have been a very good actor, then.’
I did not have to act, Kirin. To Isara, I was a loving husband, a powerful sorcerer and a strong warrior. All of which were true.
‘I suppose so. Go on.’
I returned to Imokoi and forgot all else in my preparation for the Last Battle. It was then that I made my greatest mistake. I completely forgot about Isara’s spell – the War took it out of my mind.
I finished the book that would guide you, and decided that Katar’s son would be the one who would wake you.
‘You cast your spells on Spikes’ egg.’
I did not need to cast any spell on Spikes – I knew that your very presence on this world would make him hunt for you until he found you, and the pull of my power in the books I was leaving to guide you would draw him to whatever city they were in. But I put strong magic on the egg, so that it would hatch whether or not the stork that was car
rying it delivered it to a suitable place.
The year passed incredibly quickly. The Last Battle was fought, and it was lost. But the books that would guide you were all finished, and after I returned from the Battle, I sent off a stork with Katar’s son’s egg. I decided to go into hiding, to somehow stage my own death, so that the ravians would leave.
‘I was wondering about that. If you had managed to do that, all this wouldn’t have been necessary, would it?’
I do not know. It is possible that I might have disappeared, like the other rakshases, when the ravians left. Turning you to stone at that time ensured that you did not vanish like the others, and when Spikes woke you up magic started rising in the world again.
‘I see. And Spikes isn’t magical anyway. Go on with your story, then.’
I gave the books to the asurs, and told them to give them up to human sorcerers when they surrendered. I knew that human curiosity would ensure that the books, being sources of knowledge, would not be destroyed. I wrote them in ravianic, in the language of the danavs, the language I had created myself, and hoped that somehow you would understand them one day. I gave the book to the asurs just in time – if I had kept it in the tower, Isara’s spell would have destroyed it.
My work in Imokoi was done, and as I prepared for the last part of my plan, I heard my soldiers screaming. I went out on the battlements and saw your mother flying towards the tower, and realized my great mistake.
‘Could you have stopped her?’
I do not know. I could have tried. But if I succeeded, I would have killed her, and I could not kill her, obviously.
‘So you did nothing.’
I tried to stop her. I took ravian form and she saw me and would have stopped, but it was too late. Even as our eyes met, she released her mighty spell and I knew I was dead. I knew that my only chance to defeat the ravians was you.
‘And casting the spell killed her as well.’
Danh-Gem looked shocked. He sat down on the ground, as if his knees had given way.
I did not know that. Are you sure?
‘I remember being told that my parents were dead by the ravians, before they left.’
But were they sure?
‘Well, they were sure that she wasn’t going with them to the next world.’
Danh-Gem looked at him silently for a while, then took a deep breath and continued.
I guessed the ravians would leave, and you would be brought up amongst humans. I also hoped you would discover either that you were ravian or that you were rakshas. I knew the former was more probable, and that is what happened, is it not?
Kirin nodded.
The spell obviously worked. You were turned into stone, and Spikes brought you to Kol.
I did not know how long it would take for Spikes to find you, or how long it would take for you to find the black book, so I turned my Prophecy to good use. I made up a list of five things you would have to get to restore me – five things that would ensure my followers were united, and you could wield their combined power if you wanted to. I kept one of Spikes’ claws in the list of five simply so that my followers would need Spikes on their side, and you as well. The lamp and the crown ensured that the Artaxerxians and asurs would be behind you. Your translating the red book was smart work, but if you had not managed to translate the Asurian tongue I would have told you what the five objects were. But you managed on your own.
‘And you helped me get the Gauntlet as well. And the gem?’
It will look good on the crown.
‘That was the only reason?’
No. I kept it there as a test for you, a chance for you to have faith in your own powers, a chance for your allies to accept you as a leader and a chance for you to use the Chariot of Vul. By the way, only you can summon the chariot, because you are my son. The incantation was a little trick. The chariot will come whenever you want it to.
‘It doesn’t feel very nice, you know, hearing you tell me what a fool I was, and how easily you manipulated me. So far, my life was full of things I didn’t understand. Now it all fits, but I don’t like it at all. Making me think I was avenging my father’s death – it worked, but I wish you could have found another way.’
I pretended to be Narak simply because I knew that you would not listen to be a rakshas. Besides, I was Narak, and a lot of the things I told you were completely true. And I suspected you would not be hungry for power, or driven by greed, because neither of your parents were. I knew, therefore, that making you think you were avenging your father would be the surest way to make you follow my instructions. I wish I could have found another way, too. It was not pleasant for me either.
No, I said I would tell you the truth. I enjoyed some parts of this immensely.
There were many flaws in the plan – you might easily have killed, or been killed by, any of my followers. I told you to wait, to be patient, and fortunately you listened. I hoped you would find some story to explain your powers to them, and you did. You are much like me, son.
‘I don’t understand one thing,’ said Kirin. ‘Were you awake all the time? Could you have risen whenever you wanted to?’
No. I was awakened by your touch, in the library in Kol. After that, I watched you all through. I spoke to you whenever I felt you needed it.
Of course, you made things difficult for me. From your talk with the girl you were in love with I understood that you were going to see the most powerful human spellbinder in the world. That was dangerous for me. The human might have told you not to trust me. Besides, I was sure by then that my followers all over the world were looking for Spikes, and if they found you with the spellbinders there would have been deaths – probably their deaths – and then you would never have won their trust. When I told you that you would lead those you loved into danger I was telling you the truth – the vanars were following you.
‘Did you make that giant panther attack us?’
No. That was a fortunate coincidence. But the Bleakwood is a dangerous place. The rest of the tale you know. You gathered the objects and my followers and here we are.
‘Here we are, indeed,’ said Kirin. He sighed. ‘You are telling the truth, aren’t you?’
Yes. Lying would not even help me here. I cannot come back to life.
‘So all I’ve done for the last few months has been a huge trick.’
Do not say that, Kirin. You have discovered your past, you have discovered who you are, you have discovered what you are capable of. You should be proud. I admit I brought you here by deceit, but what happens here tonight will determine the future of the world.
‘Then tell me,’ said Kirin. ‘What happens now?’
He looked around at the stone figures of the Brotherhood of Renewal standing around them, then at Danh-Gem, who was watching his son with keen eyes.
I have another gift left to give you, son, said Danh-Gem. I told you if you succeeded I would give you a choice. You have succeeded. As I said before, I will not force you to do anything, ever again. You will decide where you belong.
The wind and the rain had stopped. The sky was clear again. Father and son stood as still as the stones around them.
‘Tell me,’ said Kirin.
But before I tell you, Kirin, answer me. Do you hate me for what I did? Do you think I was wrong? Would you have done differently?
‘I don’t know,’ said Kirin. ‘I don’t want to think about it. Does it matter?’
No.
‘Tell me, then. What are these choices you wish to give me after two hundred years, that you evidently feel will set everything right?’
You will decide your own destiny from here, Kirin. You are my heir, the heir of Danh-Gem, the heir of Isara, and probably the greatest power alive on this earth. Soon I will wake your companions. The choices before you are very simple. You may leave, or you may stay. If you decide to leave, Mritik will take you wherever you want to go, and then disappear. And if you decide to stay – well, if you decide to stay, all my power will come to
you. You will lead your companions down whatever road you wish to travel.
I do not ask you to choose between good and evil. I ask you to choose between awareness and ignorance, between action and inaction, between affirmation and denial. Now you know who you are. What you choose to do with that knowledge is for you to decide.
And you must decide. Now.
‘Don’t make it sound so simple,’ said Kirin. ‘You offer me armies, you offer me supporters. As you said, you offer me the chance to rule the world. But I don’t think you understand a very simple thing. I don’t want to rule the world. Yet if I go away…’
If you go away, it is likely that your former comrades will join forces anyway. War is coming, Kirin. Will you take part in it, or will you stand aside? The Brotherhood of Renewal seeks to dominate the world, with or without you. Will you let their powers combine and wreak havoc? Or will you step forward and decide what road they will take? Because you have the power to do so, Kirin. They will follow you blindly when they learn you are my son. You alone can unite all my followers of old. You alone can rule the rakshases.
‘I don’t want to be followed blindly. I don’t seek power. I don’t want to control people’s lives.’
Danh-Gem didn’t reply.
Kirin sat down on the ground and bowed his head.
‘If I don’t lead your followers, the world will be plunged into war and thousands will die,’ he said finally. ‘And I will end up thinking it was my fault–that I could have stopped the war. But even if I lead your armies, will I be able to stop the war?’
Probably, said Dan-Gem. Or you could start a war. A glorious war. The last war.
And people all over the world will hate the son of Danh-Gem, whatever he did, simply because he was half rakshasi. He would be known as the Dark Lord, or something like that, and even if he tried to set things right half the world would hate him and the rest would follow him out of fear.