No one defies the gods and they show no mercy to those who try.
Panchali closed her eyes but she could still clearly see the burning forms, the faces of the dying. She felt a fleeting moment of clarity, of being able to understand many things. It turned into numb acceptance as she came to terms with her failure to stop the horror around her.
Govinda the gwala dared defy a king to become Govinda Shauri, just as I, a nameless, kinless orphan dared to become Princess Panchali. We are the two halves of a whole. I shall burn alive for his wrongs.
A sudden calm settled on her. Wiping away her tears, Panchali waited.
The fire drew closer.
34
GOVINDA PUSHED BALAHAK ON AT HIS FASTEST, BUT PANCHALI’S fury seemed to have given her horse wings. Nevertheless, he had managed to keep her within view and was swiftly gaining on her. If only she had stopped to listen … But he knew her well enough to realize that no quick explanation would have sufficed. It was best that she took a closer look for herself. He could always get her out of the forest before she put herself in harm’s way.
A quick movement in the forest just beyond the first rows of trees caught his eye. He turned in his saddle to get a better look, even as he began wondering if Panchali was doing the right thing after all. Yes, he decided, there was no question. It was clearly a human figure, and it certainly was not Panchali. Govinda hesitated, wondering whether to continue his chase, or to find and warn whoever might still be inside the forest. She’ll never forgive me if I don’t …
With a groan of resignation, he wheeled Balahak around and made for the gap between the trees where he had last seen the form. He stopped at the edge of the forest, letting his eyes, and Balahak’s, get used to the dark before they went forward. He looked around intently, but saw no trace of any living creature. And now he had lost Panchali’s trail. Cursing, Govinda promised himself that when this was over he would really let her hear it. Anger gave way to hope as he heard a soft sound behind him, but before he could move a sharp pain pierced the flesh on his left side, just below his ribs. An arrow, he recognized. But he could think no further as on the wings of the weapon came a terrible horde.
Through the umbra rushed creatures of darkness and shadow. Govinda did not know how he was able to see them in that empty blackness, but see them he did – in immaculate detail. The shadows were alive, distinct and varying in texture, in light and colour. Except that here, in this forsaken place, even light was black. Birds, beasts and other creatures of hideous form let out screeching wails that he felt rather than heard. The nameless creatures sank their teeth and claws into his flesh. Stirred by the pain, he tried to fight. With great effort, he pulled his sword out of its scabbard and swung at the enemy. The silver-gold flash of the blade pierced the darkness as though it were soft flesh.
Suddenly, the shadow-creatures were gone. Breathing hard, Govinda tried to regain his bearings. As the darkness thinned a little, he thought he could see the vague outlines of trees and huts in the distance, silhouetted against a dull light. He could also clearly hear sounds he had not heard before – the buzz of insects, the rustle of leaves. As if to prove it, someone called out his name. Children ran around laughing and playing. A boy ran up to him. Laughing, the child held out his hand. In response, Govinda swung his blade, hacking off the boy’s head. And then he could not stop. Children, their companions, the mothers who ran to protect them, all lay dead. His sword cut clean through each one of them, hacking at their bodies, their limbs until they collapsed in heaps of flesh. Their eyes remained alive and accusing.
‘No!’ Govinda gasped in vain.
Laughing, the shadow creatures returned to peck at the bodies of those he had brutally murdered. He ran among the dead as a madman, till the creatures turned their attentions back to him. This time, Govinda decided, he would welcome the pain as they ripped off his flesh. Gritting his teeth, he bore the searing touch of the shadow creatures, but he could only take it for so long. A terrible scream rent the air, followed by more such ringing screams of agony. He realized that it was a familiar voice, a very familiar voice. Pain shot through him anew, as many more screams came through the darkness. An abyss opened at his feet, its depths beckoning. His last thought before he fell headlong into the chasm was of Panchali.
If only she were safe …
Her long, dark hair streamed behind her, gleaming like a black sun. She turned, saw him and ran to him, laughing. But before he could reach her, she burst into flames. He wrapped his arms around her and tried to put out the flames. Surprisingly, they did not burn him. But he could hear her scream in pain, the sound shrill and piercing. Her face, her lovely, innocent face contorted in unimaginable horror. Then she was gone and Govinda was alone in the woods – dark woods that now took the shape of indistinct memories.
The shadowy form of Shikandin was next to him, looking at him but not quite. At his signal, other shadows stepped forward, drawing their swords, and they all jumped out into a clearing, taking the Emperor’s soldiers by surprise. Govinda hacked down two men, but his mind was not on the battle. There was something else he had to do, but he did not know what. Through a haze that clouded his vision, he saw the wooden trapdoor set in the ground. Grabbing the iron ring set into the wood, he raised the trapdoor and peered in. She reached out to him from within, arms thrown out, beckoning him to her. He wanted to jump inside, but could not. Shikandin pulled him away and shouted out orders to his shadow companions to withdraw. The door slammed shut, sealing her inside.
Govinda yelled out. Writhing free of Shikandin he tried to scramble back to the trapdoor. She was inside; he had to save her. A withered figure, his face and body covered with burn scars blocked his way. The words he spoke came in an insane cackle. ‘She’s dead … She’s dead. We killed her, you and I!’ the man said.
Govinda got to his feet and grabbed the man by his shoulders. ‘Where is she?’ he roughly asked. ‘Where is she, Agniveshya?’
In reply, there was only laughter.
Abruptly, the maddening cackle gave way to soundlessness. Govinda was now in a dark pit-like cavern, watched by a tall, thin man who was both familiar and threatening. Pain coursed through him as he tried to move, to push himself off the ground and onto his knees. The chains around his wrists clanked. He looked down at his almost-bare body, bloodied and gashed. He tried to stand up but slipped, falling flat on his face on the slime-covered floor. His outstretched hand touched something … something he did not want to see. Something he had seen before. Bile rose up in his throat, flooding his mouth with a sick taste.
This, Govinda knew, was the most terrifying apparition of them all. Worse still, this was neither just imagination nor memory. He was living it, every excruciating moment of it, but with the added torment of knowing what lay ahead. If he turned, he would see …
He tried to scramble away with a feverish energy, but the darkness with its terrible creatures rushed towards him. Slowly, bit by bit, it pushed him closer, close enough to touch … He tried to push the darkness back, but it slipped through his fingers and came at him again. No light could enter this forsaken hell.
Unless …
Some deep instinct brought to mind words, lost words of long ago, learned and forgotten, the forgetting but a means of keeping them safe for this moment.
It shines radiant
Like light, but is not.
Alive and incessant
Always moving, it is.
Govinda did not know what the words meant, nor did he immediately understand their purpose. But he knew he was meant to remember them.
The creatures of the darkness laughed at him. How can it be that something is alive and yet you don’t know it; alight, but you remain surrounded by the dark?
In a voice that was his but not quite his, Govinda raised his head and silently replied, Because I am that light … I am Brahman, the Eternal Universe, self-perfecting, alive, incessantly in action. He laughed out loud. In a stronger voice, more powerful than he had eve
r known his could be, he declared, I am the darkness.
The gloom vanished, along with its shadow creatures. In its place, at his feet, lay the headless body of the boy who had run up to him. Govinda did not flinch. A figure emerged from the darkness. Arms outstretched, blue-black hair flowing behind her, she ran towards him as if to throw herself into his embrace.
I am an illusion, as are the things I have done.
Unperturbed, unruffled, he ran his sword clear through the one he had loved for as long as he could remember.
Govinda opened his eyes to find himself on the damp ground. Balahak stood nearby, whinnying anxiously. With a groan he pulled himself to his feet. His head throbbed, and he felt sick. As he pressed his temples, he felt a sharp sting on his side, just below his ribs. The arrow was light and sleek. Govinda pulled it out easily; it had not gone deep into the flesh. The tip was sharp and engraved with a tiny crescent-shaped groove, which served to hold the dark poison the needle had been dipped in – not unlike the shafts that were used to deploy the Bramha-weapon, the terrible and powerful poison that could kill by causing the most grotesque and fearsome visions, hallucinations. His stomach gave a lurch, and for an instant Govinda wondered just how much longer he could have lasted against the illusions.
Blood dripped from the sword in his hand. Looking around, Govinda found the body of his attacker, almost cleaved in two. His assailant’s identity did not surprise him in the least: Aswasena, son of the Naga king. Where Takshaka lived for his people, Aswasena, reckless and ambitious, cared for no one but himself. The man had been in the forest for a reason.
The scattered contents of the bag at Aswasena’s waist confirmed Govinda’s suspicions. He disregarded what he knew were trifles – highly precious gemstones and heavy gold ingots – and reached for one of the many fallen scrolls. They were letters of credit from various foreign personages, including kings and merchants. A quick look through a few of the notes had him clucking his tongue in astonishment. The sum Aswasena could collect on these would surely exceed what the Nagas had in their treasuries. Govinda stuffed the scrolls into his own leather pouch. He would deliver them to Takshaka himself and leave the monarch to form his own conclusions on how his son came upon such personal riches.
Bending down, Govinda quickly examined the arrows in the Naga’s quiver and the bow that had fallen from his hand. It was light and made of a silver-coloured metal, not unlike the Gandiva, though the workmanship of the Naga’s weapon left much to be desired. But there was no doubt. Aswasena’s bow had been made by a Firewright, or someone who had been taught by one. Which meant …
Smoke stung sharply at Govinda’s eyes, bringing him back to the moment and reminding him where he was, and why. Immediately, he pulled himself on to Balahak and urged him deeper into the forest. Soon he saw a massive wall of orange and red crackling in the distance. It rapidly drew closer, a host of shapes framed against its brightness. Among them, a silhouette that was clearly Panchali’s.
She stood like a statue, still and unmoving. Her horse was free of its bridle and reins and trotted around her, nearly insane with terror but still faithful to his rider. Panchali finally moved, gently patting the animal and then pushing him away hard as though in the hope that the animal’s instincts would lead him to safety.
Govinda could feel the heat on his face as he dismounted and ran towards her. Grabbing her hand he pulled her back, not bothering with questions or explanations. He helped her climb on to Balahak and then swung himself up behind her. A sharp whistle, and her grey stallion responded with a neigh and trotted alongside. The flames were still a fair distance away, but the heat and the smoke were enough to kill them well before the fire came close. Govinda tried to work out directions based on the fire and the wind driving it. As long as they were headed the right way – to the river beyond the edge of the forest – they had a chance, but the thick undergrowth slowed their progress. Looking around, he cursed. The forest was on fire, in many places, from many sides. It could only mean that the entire area had become so hot that fires were starting spontaneously. Anything could begin to burn at any moment.
‘Why do you think I’d given up, Govinda?’ Panchali said softly, reading his thoughts. ‘I suppose it’s only fair. I’ve failed. You’ve won. So many living creatures, so many innocent people, so many children, so many animals and birds will die such horrible deaths. I deserve to burn with them.’
Govinda looked down at her, shocked at her words. She leant back against him, visibly weary. Her tears had mingled with the soot from the fire, staining her cheeks. He gently wiped away the smears as best he could and held her close. ‘There are no people or children in Kandava, Panchali, and the few animals and birds that may have been left would have escaped by now.’
‘How do you know?’ Panchali countered, unconvinced. ‘You don’t have to make me feel better, Govinda. I’m ready to die.’
‘You’re not going to die. At least not today. And I promise you, Kandava is uninhabited. I’d hoped to share the news with you and Dharma this evening – Takshaka has left the forest and taken his people north, to Kuru’s Fields. The last of the Nagas left during the night. I’d love to discuss the niggling details of the treaty that Takshaka and I have spent days thrashing out, but this is not the time. Trust me, they are all safe,’ he urged.
‘All right,’ Panchali said, her tone indulgent but still disbelieving. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh, as if she were about to take a restful afternoon nap.
Govinda wrapped one arm around her and held Balahak’s reins in his other hand. The smoke was slowing him down, making him weak and sluggish.
Think, you foolish gwala, he goaded himself. A bolt of panic shot through him as Panchali’s breathing turned shallow, even as she lay in his arms.
‘Wake up, Panchali!’ he tapped her roughly.
She responded with a soft chuckle. ‘You do care … Don’t you?’ she whispered, managing a weak smile. Then, with a contented look on her face, she went completely limp in his arms. Govinda cursed, and tried to shake her back to consciousness, but to no avail. He realized they had very little time left. He had no choice. There was only one way out of this. He took one look at the senseless woman in his arms and resolutely moved on.
Soon, a new line of fire blazed up. Driven by the wind, it began sweeping forward as a wave of flame that headed away from them. As the huge inferno chased them from behind, the fire Govinda had created cleared the way in front at the same speed. At last, a glimpse of daylight and the bright sky. They were at the edge of the forest. As they burst into the bright sunlight and out of the clutches of Kandava, Govinda allowed himself a small smile at the irony of their escape. After all that has happened, Agni the refulgent finally serves my need.
35
‘PANCHALI?’ GOVINDA ASKED THE MOMENT HE WOKE.
‘She’s fine,’ Dhaumya said. ‘She was up briefly but has gone back to sleep.’
Govinda sat up in bed, groaning slightly at the stab of pain in his side.
On a couch nearby Shikandin woke with a start but relaxed when he saw Govinda sitting up.
‘I should have known you’d be here, Shikandin,’ Govinda said. ‘You’ve been waiting for the chance to get me naked in bed forever …’
Shikandin pointedly ignored Govinda, and looked at Dhaumya.
‘He’ll be fine. I’ll sit with him,’ Dhaumya reassured him. Turning to Govinda, the scholar said, ‘I’m sure you won’t be surprised to hear that this fellow hasn’t budged from your side. In fact, he fell asleep late last night only after I slipped him a draught in his wine.’
‘I knew it!’ Shikandin exclaimed. ‘Govinda, Panchali, me … You make your sleeping draughts by the bucketfuls, don’t you?’
‘All right, all right! I’ll apologize, if it’ll make you go get some sleep.’
‘Sleep?’ Shikandin exclaimed. ‘And let you two do all the talking? No way! If he’s fine, then he’d better answer a few questions. You can save your apology.’
/> He sat up, swinging his long legs down to the floor and leaning forward, elbows on his knees. ‘Before you ask, Govinda … You got back to Hastina the day before yesterday, in the evening. Partha arrived some time before you and Panchali did, so we were able to sneak you both in and keep things quiet. Barring Dharma and his brothers, and Subadra, pretty much no one else knows she was involved. You’ve both slept straight through yesterday and most of today. Panchali was up a few hours ago, but has gone back to sleep. I think she must have inhaled some hallucinogenic vapours, along with the smoke. Her memories are garbled. In fact, she hardly remembers anything at all.’
‘Kandava?’
‘Razed to the ground,’ Shikandin confirmed, ‘except for the small tract bordering Kuru’s Fields, north of the river. That canal you ordered to be dug worked. But, I must say, that was one huge fire …’
Govinda sniggered, ‘It wasn’t for nothing that Bhisma sent for the Gandiva and arranged for Partha to have it. The Grandsire would’ve loved to get his hands on it years ago, but has had to settle for letting Partha have the weapon and the fame that goes with it. The old man won’t forgive him, or Dwaipayana, too easily for that!’
Dhaumya pensively added, ‘Dwaipayana goes on and on about how Partha, son of Indra himself, was able to defy the gods and destroy impregnable Kandava.’
‘And Syoddhan?’ Govinda asked, with narrowed eyes. He knew that Syoddhan’s reaction was crucial to how many others in Aryavarta, including Emperor Jarasandha, would react to the whole matter.
‘He seems to be all right,’ Shikandin replied. ‘My spies tell me that his spies tell him that they – that is, his spies, not mine … What?’ he asked, feigning great seriousness as Govinda began to laugh.
Govinda addressed Dhaumya, ‘Are you sure it was just a sleeping draught you slipped into his wine?’
Govinda (The Aryavarta Chronicles) Page 25