The Guardians of the Halahala

by Shatrujeet Nath

  “Sound the alarm, sound the alarm,” he shouted frantically. “Some exiles are trying to escape from the forest.”

  Even though this wasn’t a common occurrence at the garrison, within a couple of minutes, roughly fifty soldiers and a dozen cavalrymen had assembled and begun moving efficiently toward the river. As they crossed the Payoshni Pass and approached the river, the men drew their weapons and fanned out with drill-like precision.

  On reaching the river crossing, however, the soldiers saw no sign of human activity – neither in the sluggish river, nor on either of its banks.

  “Surrender immediately,” ordered one of the horsemen, a young commander. Scouring the area around, he added, “Resistance is useless. You are surrounded by the army of Heheya – there is nowhere to run. Show yourselves.”

  Nothing happened.

  The rain had now reduced to a steady drizzle. A few soldiers scouted the trees nearby, while some others, led by the commander, moved warily to the river’s edge and inspected the water and the docked boat. The commander then studied the opposite bank for a while before shaking his head.

  “There’s nothing here. Where’s the soldier who raised the alarm?”

  The commander’s horse suddenly whinnied and shifted skittishly, but no one paid it much attention. The sentry stepped forward.

  “Are you sure you saw someone trying to cross the river?” asked the commander, twitching the reins to control his horse. “Or were you just hallucinating?”

  “I saw some figures swimming in the river, sir. I’m quite certain.”

  “Well, there’s no one here, soldier,” the commander made a broad sweep with his arm. “The only way anyone could have got out of here is by heading toward the garrison. We know that didn’t happen because we came that way.”

  “Maybe they retreated back into the forest,” the soldier tried defending himself.

  “Maybe...” chuckled another of the horsemen. “Or maybe you had too much firewater last night and the effects haven’t fully worn off.”

  The soldiers had just begun sniggering at the remark and lowering their weapons when there was a loud, turbulent splash in the river, followed by a most hideous roar.

  The next moment, a large, horned ogre rose out of the Payoshni, shaking the water plants off its black, hairy body. As the soldiers stood rooted to the ground in terror, the beast lunged at the commander and grabbed him by the shoulders, plucking him off his horse.

  Then, in one single movement, it opened its large gaping mouth, bristling with sharp jagged teeth, and bit the commander’s head clean off his torso.

  At the same instant, around thirty reptilian forms with horns on their heads, smaller in size to the ogre but more agile, leaped out of the muddy water with savage shrieks. Running, leaping and scampering on all fours, the smaller beasts attacked the stunned soldiers, slashing at them with long retractable talons and biting into their necks and shoulders with their teeth.

  As the sense of self-preservation finally kicked in, some of Heheya’s soldiers took flight, while the braver ones drew their weapons to defend themselves. Those who stayed to put up a fight managed inflicting some injuries on the smaller beasts, but they quailed when the monster that had claimed their commander stepped ashore.

  Over twelve feet in height, the ogre had the legs, body and head of a goat, the head crowned with a pair of large horns that arced backwards. But its big, muscular arms and face were humanoid – at least partially. The monster had an abominably large mouth, which opened wide by unhinging at the jaw and cheeks. A pair of small nostrils pointed to a nonexistent nose, above which were two dead eyes, devoid of irises. The two eyeballs, white and smooth as marble, stared unseeingly in front.

  Yet, blindness seemed to pose no problems to the ramp-aging beast.

  Because Andhaka, the rakshasa sent to Sindhuvarta by the asura lord Hiranyaksha, relied on a keen sense of smell, touch and hearing to inflict mayhem.

  Spitting the crushed pulp of the commander’s head out of his mouth, Andhaka flung the body over his shoulder into the Payoshni. He then caught a couple of soldiers in his hands and squeezed hard, the soldiers’ bones cracking and imploding under pressure. One of the cavalrymen immediately charged at the ogre, only to have his head twisted and ripped out of his shoulders. And an archer, who shot two futile arrows at the rakshasa, was punished by being hurled against the side of a cliff, his head splitting open on impact.

  The more courageous soldiers of the garrison battled hard, but they quickly began wilting under the brutal assault led by Andhaka. And the last of the fight went out of them when they saw a fresh horde of beasts issue out of the Dandaka Forest and throw themselves eagerly into the river.

  The surviving soldiers scattered, running toward the garrison’s fortifications for cover, screaming at the top of their lungs for assistance. But Andhaka and his army of pishachas gave pursuit, leaving a trail of carnage that extended from the river crossing all the way inside the garrison of Payoshni.

  ***

  The courtyard was filled with five hundred devas mounted on horseback, standing in five orderly columns. The afternoon sun glinted off their bronze armors and shields, while a light breeze ruffled the hackles on their helmets and flapped at the banner of Devaloka in the hands of one of them. The only sounds were the impatient clink of horse hooves on stone and an occasional murmur from the palace councilors who lined the galleries overlooking the courtyard.

  At the head of the five columns were two devas astride their black mounts, both horses significantly larger in size than the beasts behind them. Unlike the rest of the devas in the courtyard, the two commanders were bareheaded – and judging from their straight golden hair, sharp noses and droopy eyes, it was plain that the two were twins.

  The somber silence was broken by the hollow sound of a gong struck somewhere inside the palace. As the heavy peal rolled and crashed against the cliffs surrounding the palace, an official appeared at an empty balcony high above the courtyard.

  “Indra, king of Devaloka, is here to grant an audience to the Brotherhood of the Ashvins,” he announced, before withdrawing.

  A moment later, the towering figure of Indra stepped on to the balcony. He was followed by a lissome apsara of great beauty, tall and pleasantly endowed, her fair face in direct contrast to her vivacious black eyes and rich brown hair that fell seductively on her bare shoulders in great abundance.

  As the apsara came and stood by his side, Indra leaned his huge hands on the stone parapet, and gazed down into the courtyard. Immediately, the two devas at the head of the cavalry columns dismounted and bowed their heads.

  “The Brotherhood of the Ashvins awaits your permission to ride to Sindhuvarta, mighty king,” said one of the twins, raising his head.

  “You have my permission, commanders,” Indra’s voice boomed across the courtyard. “Ride to Ujjayini and bring me Veeshada’s dagger.” He paused, then added with a scowl, “And remember... if there is even a shred of opposition, show no mercy. The human king doesn’t deserve any.”

  Bowing once again, the twins mounted their horses. Then, donning their helmets, they turned around and rode out of the large gate at the far end of the courtyard. The rest of the cavalry followed, gathering speed as they rode away from the palace.

  Indra watched the riders depart, a smile spreading over his broad, bearded face. “Fetch me some soma, my dear,” he said, addressing the apsara. “Let me drink to the success of the Brotherhood of the Ashvins.”

  “As you wish, lord,” the apsara answered. She entered the room adjoining the balcony and returned shortly with a goblet brimming with the rich wine.

  Indra gulped down half the contents of the goblet and let out a sigh of satisfaction. “Soon, the Halahala will be ours,” he said, beaming to himself. “For millennia I have waited for this day, this moment.”

  “But lord, isn’t it too early to assume the Ashvins will succeed?” the apsara tilted her head saucily, her enigmatic eyes on Indra. “What ma
kes you think the human king will give up without a fight?”

  “My dear Urvashi, for his sake and the sake of his precious little kingdom, I hope he isn’t foolish enough to come in their way,” Indra replied, his voice bubbling with scorn. He paused as the roar of hoof beats rushing across the southern drawbridge filled the air, echoing from the abyss surrounding the palace.

  “Do you hear that?” Indra asked, taking the apsara by the shoulder and drawing her close. “The dreaded Ashvin cavalry of Devaloka, led by the able Nasatya and Dasra. Those horse hooves can pound the soil of Avanti into infertile dust, and those riders can reduce the city of Ujjayini to rubble.”

  “But it seems to me that the human king isn’t easily intimidated,” Urvashi fluttered her eyelids flirtatiously, her tone teasing. “Poor Narada literally had the palace door slammed on his face.”

  The king of the devas threw his head back and emptied the goblet. Then, bringing his face close to Urvashi’s, he whispered softly in her ear. “If the human king tries to thwart me again, I promise to strike unspeakable fear in his heart.”

  His hand dropped and went around the apsara’s slender waist, groping and squeezing her bare midriff in arousal. “He had the audacity to rebuff my offer of friendship – I will now make him feel the crushing might and fury of Indra’s enmity.”

  Dark

  T

  here was still an hour to sundown, but the heavy clouds hanging over Ujjayini had darkened the city, forcing its inhabitants to light the lamps early. Intermittent rain and squally winds continued to lash the capital, keeping most of the citizenry off the streets.

  Within the council chamber, two palace attendants bearing small torches moved on silent feet, igniting lamps that stood in recesses in the walls. A third attendant went around the room, closing the windows to keep the draft from extinguishing the freshly-lit lamps.

  Vikramaditya and his councilors sat around the table, waiting patiently for the attendants to finish their chore. The glow from the lamps gradually dispelled the gloom, and in their light, it was possible to see a large map of Sindhuvarta, woven in red satin and embroidered with gold threads, spread out on the council table.

  At last, when all the lamps were lit and all the windows shuttered, the three attendants bowed deeply and backed out of the chamber. The king waited for the heavy door to shut before he looked at Vararuchi.

  “Yes,” he said, taking a deep breath. “You were saying something before we were interrupted...”

  “I was saying that the four thousand soldiers and thousand horsemen that King Harihara had promised us are already in Avanti, on their way to Udaypuri,” Vararuchi replied. “So we can now divert some of our soldiers to the south.”

  “It is something we could consider,” the samrat nodded, though the idea appeared to trouble him.

  “Yes, but the point is where do we station them?” Dhanavantri asked. Pointing to the map on the table, he added, “The Mother Oracle has only said that this... sightless evil, whatever it is, will come from the south. In geographical terms, the south is a very broad area – it could apply to any point south of Ujjayini. If we know nothing about where this thing will come from, where do we position our troops?”

  “Not to mention that we know nothing about when it will come either,” remarked Varahamihira, rubbing his pockmarked chin morosely.

  “The troops should stay on standby in the garrison of Ujjayini,” Vikramaditya spoke with firmness. “If they are here, they can be dispatched wherever necessary the moment we receive some concrete information about this... thing.”

  “That’s being practical,” agreed Vetala Bhatta, glancing around the table. “It’s better than spreading ourselves thin trying to plug all possible entry points to the south.”

  As heads nodded in agreement, Kshapanaka spoke. “How many troops of the Imperial Army do we put on standby?”

  The councilors looked at one another indecisively.

  “As Vararuchi said, we have an additional four thousand soldiers and thousand horsemen from Heheya on the way to the border,” Dhanavantri shrugged his fat shoulders. “Perhaps an equal number will suffice?”

  “We also need to keep enough troops ready for quick deployment to the west,” the Acharya pointed out. “Let’s not forget what the Mother Oracle said about the wall of dust.”

  “Then perhaps half that number?” Vararuchi looked at his brother inquiringly. “With maybe five hundred archers to give them support?”

  While Vikramaditya considered this, Kalidasa cleared his throat. “The Warriors of the Oath are also at our disposal, samrat,” he reminded.

  “Yes, but let’s keep them in reserve,” the king answered. “The samsaptakas should be the last line of defense – when everything else fails.”

  Turning to Vararuchi, he added, “How many troops we shall need to counter this sightless entity is anybody’s guess. But for now, a thousand infantry units and five hundred of cavalry and archers each would be fine, I suppose. We can also rope in two or three contingents of the City Watch, if necessary. And anyway some of us - or maybe most of us - would have to lead the defense.”

  Seeing that the matter was settled, Vetala Bhatta addressed Vararuchi and Varahamihira. “If the soldiers are being stationed at Ujjayini, we will need a system in place to relay messages swiftly from the south.”

  “I have already deployed a network of riders to the south, raj-guru,” said Vararuchi. “I realized that owing to the rainy conditions, we cannot bank on the suryayantras to transmit signals. And even flares aren’t entirely dependable in this weather, given the damp and poor visibility.”

  “Riders make sense,” the Acharya nodded in satisfaction.

  At that moment, there was a light knock on the door of the council chamber. As the councilors turned, the door opened to admit a palace hand.

  “Salutations to the samrat and the Council of Nine,” said the attendant before addressing the Acharya. “Pardon the interruption, but a rider awaits you in your private chamber, raj-guru. He says he has an important message to deliver.”

  Vetala Bhatta exchanged a glance with Vikramaditya, who nodded. The chief councilor rose from the table and exited the room. Meanwhile, the samrat turned to Vararuchi.

  “How are things at the border? King Chandravardhan had said he would send five thousand soldiers...”

  “I have checked on that,” Vararuchi reassured the king. “There’s been a delay, but his troops are crossing over from Vatsa as we speak.”

  “What about the reinforcements from the Anarta Federation?”

  “Of the fifteen thousand troops that Chief Yugandhara had promised, nine thousand have arrived. Unfortunately, I have already dispatched all nine thousand to King Baanahasta’s court in Viratapuri – I thought it would be a good idea to strengthen Matsya’s borders against an eventuality.” Vararuchi ran his fingers through his hair ruefully. “Perhaps I should have retained half the number and sent them to Udaypuri instead. We could then have kept more of our soldiers here on standby to deal with...”

  “No! Our soldiers need to be in the frontline,” Vikramaditya interrupted, getting the drift of his brother’s thoughts. “Vatsa, Heheya and the Anartas have pledged their support in the understanding that the might of Avanti’s Imperial Army will be at the frontier, standing shoulder to shoulder with their own troops in the defense of Sindhuvarta. The forces they’ve sent are reinforcements, not substitutes for our soldiers. Keeping the invaders out is a shared responsibility, so no matter what, we shouldn’t hold more of our own troops back for Avanti’s narrow gains. Whatever is coming from the south is a headache, but we’ll have to make do with the two thousand units we’ve already decided on. Let’s tackle this without breaching the trust of our allies.”

  Smarting and chastised by the king’s words, no one spoke for a while. It was the royal physician who broke the pause by bringing a subtle change to the topic. “Any news from Amara Simha?”

  “Nothing today, so I surmise everything is unde
r control. But his message yesterday did say that he has begun overseeing troop deployments along the frontier.” As an afterthought, Vararuchi added, “The message also made special mention of Satyaveda being a pompous, sniveling fool.”

  Knowing smiles cropped up around the table, the councilors’ heads shaking in resignation. Even Shanku shed her habitual reserve, permitting herself a tinkle of laughter.

  “The governor must have rubbed Amara Simha the wrong way and had his head chewed off,” Dhanavantri chuckled.

  “What else did Amara Simha expect from him!” exclaimed Varahamihira. “We very well know how unbearable Satyaveda can be. I find it hard to believe that the governor comes from the same noble ancestry as Acharya Vedavidya and Councilor Sagopana – may their souls rest in peace.” With an exaggerated shudder, he added, “Imagine our plight if we had to suffer Satyaveda at this table every day?”

  “Seeing him being packed off to Malawa was such a relief,” agreed Vararuchi. “We don’t thank the Acharya enough for that.”

  “Let’s not be too harsh on the man,” Vikramaditya intervened with a smile. “I concede he is too full of himself and a tad incompetent, but he is otherwise quite harmless.”

  “Pride and incompetence – what more harm need anyone inflict on his fellow beings, my king?” Dhanavantri shot back with a grin.

  Once the ripple of laughter subsided, the samrat addressed his brother again. “Did Amara Simha say anything about how Ghatakarpara is faring?” The king’s voice had a faint trace of avuncular concern in it.

  “No, he didn’t,” replied Vararuchi. “But he had a note of praise for Ghatakarpara’s friend Atulyateja – the garrison commander at Udaypuri. He said the boy was resourceful and efficient, and was being a big help in coordinating troop movements.”

  “Then perhaps he should be rewarded with a transfer to the Imperial Army,” suggested Varahamihira.

  Seeing the heads around the table nod in agreement, Kshapanaka spoke up. “Your intentions are honorable, Varahamihira, but I disagree. If all the best soldiers are drafted into the Imperial Army, what happens to the Frontier Guard? To stand on its legs, the Frontier Guard also needs young men of talent and caliber.”