Fight Like A Girl

by Juliet E. McKenna

  Shivani’s lip curled. “You are the zamindar’s son?”

  “Yes, I’m Prakash Dayal. I can assure you he won’t be impressed that you’ve kept me waiting. My wife has had an uncomfortable journey. She needs to rest.”

  “Your father is dead.”

  Prakash opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. He looked like a fish gasping for water. He tried to speak, but no words came out.

  There was a rustle of fabric, and the curtains of the carriage parted once more. A woman stepped out, awkwardly holding her heavy belly. As she moved, the pallu of her sari slipped a little, revealing her face.

  Shivani’s heart leapt wildly. A sob rose in her throat. She bit her lip, and swallowed hard.

  “What’s the delay?” the woman asked Prakash.

  “This woman,” Prakash said, gathering himself and gesturing towards Shivani, “is claiming preposterously that my father is dead. Get back into the carriage, Nalini. I will sort it out.”

  Nalini turned. Her eyes met Shivani’s, and she gasped. She stumbled back, leaning against the carriage, looking sick.

  “You’ve caused my wife distress,” Prakash said, not moving an inch to help her. “If my son is harmed, I’ll have your head.”

  “The only way your child is going to be affected is if you do something stupid.” Shivani moved towards Nalini, an involuntary movement, quickly arrested. “Sit down. The women of the town will help you.”

  “Get away from her,” Prakash barked.

  Shivani shot him a steely glance. “You have a choice. Wait quietly until the yagna is complete, or turn back now. Either way, your wife is staying here until the midwife says she can travel.”

  Prakash opened his mouth to argue, but Nalini put a hand on his arm. “I need to rest,” she said softly. “Your son is kicking too much.”

  “I want to know what happened to my father,” Prakash said, turning and marching towards the town square. He stopped, looked back at the guards. “Bring the valuables, and make sure no one steals anything from the carriage.” He stormed off, without waiting for his wife, or looking to see if she followed.

  *

  Shivani walked alongside Nalini, stealing sideways glances at her every chance she got. Nalini’s amber eyes were lustrous. Her glossy hair was tied in an elaborate braid, half-covered by the pallu of her sari and kept in its place with a jewelled pin. She had put on weight, and she looked tired. But still so beautiful.

  All the feelings Shivani thought she’d buried three years in the past came flooding back, as intense now as the day they had parted, no less glorious and painful.

  “What are you doing here?” Nalini asked.

  “I’m here to ensure the yagna is successful,” Shivani said, looking straight ahead. Now they were talking, she could not look Nalini in the eye.

  Nalini frowned. “I don’t understand,” she said. “You have weapons, and your clothes . . . you are wearing men’s clothing.”

  “I joined Kali’s order.”

  Nalini smiled. A ghost of humour, a reminiscence of the past. “I should have realised that.” The smile disappeared. “You ran away.”

  The accusation in her voice stung deeply. “I didn’t want to see you get married.”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “You could have run with me.”

  “And then what?” Nalini asked hotly. “It would have been no different somewhere else. The rules are the same all over the country.”

  “You could have run,” Shivani repeated.

  “You should have stayed.”

  “They were going to marry me off to an old man.”

  “They would have waited for someone else, if you had behaved a little more—”

  “—guilty?” Shivani demanded. “Is that the word you were looking for?”

  “We were in the wrong. We had to be punished.” It sounded like Nalini was repeating a mantra she had taught herself.

  “Do you believe that?” It was the question that had haunted Shivani for three years. Was she guilty, or not guilty? Did love have to stay within proscribed boundaries? When the heart transgressed, did it become a crime? On some days, she felt certain she had done nothing wrong. On others, she felt equally certain she was a sinner, and deserved to be punished.

  “Yes, I do,” Nalini said, without conviction.

  “Is this your first child?” Shivani asked, changing the subject.

  “The second. I have a daughter. She is with my parents in Sundarnagar. She loves it there.”

  “Or is it that your husband isn’t happy with a daughter?”

  Nalini’s averted eyes told her enough.

  “Everything will be fine, once my son is born,” Nalini said firmly.

  She sounded normal. The way a woman was supposed to be. Talking about things a woman was supposed to want. But as Shivani stole another glance at Nalini, she wondered if the Nalini who had once dreamt of their life together was still there.

  “Are you happy?” Shivani asked.

  Nalini caressed her belly. “I’m content. I’ve done my duty to my family. I can hold my head high in society. That is more important than happiness.”

  *

  The residents grumbled as Prakash and his guards made their way into town.

  “What is he doing here?” Devika demanded, standing with her hands on her hips, proud and stubborn.

  “His wife is with child,” Shivani said, gently pushing Nalini forward.

  “If he causes any trouble – “ One of the men glared at Prakash.

  “He won’t.” Prakash was too much of a merchant, she judged. He would want his guards to keep his property safe, not take on a fight with the whole town. She didn’t doubt he would demand his inheritance, but not without more manpower.

  A middle-aged woman came forward, gave Nalini a reassuring smile. “Come, beti. Sit down. We don’t have much, but we can share our food.”

  “We have food,” Nalini said, and Shivani realised that the Nalini she had loved wasn’t entirely lost.

  Nalini looked at her husband. “It would be bad luck for our son to take food from those in need,” she said pointedly. “He would be in their debt, and I do not wish my son to be born in debt.”

  Prakash understood that. It took lifetimes to pay off karmic debts, and an unpaid debt could bring ruin to a family for generations.

  “Bring food,” he ordered the guards.

  Shivani watched as Nalini naturally fitted in with the women. She talked about her pregnancy, about the daughter she had left behind. She talked about their journey, and spoke to them as if she was one of them, and her husband’s father hadn’t caused their current plight.

  “Where do you live? I haven’t seen you before,” Devika asked.

  “Sundarnagar. My husband has business there.”

  “Sundarnagar is a beautiful town,” another woman said wistfully.

  “So was ours, until the demons attacked. And all because your father-in-law made a pact with them,” Devika said to Nalini.

  “It’s not her fault.” Shivani spoke without thinking. All the women looked up, surprised. She was there to guard them. They didn’t expect her to express opinions.

  Shivani turned away, pacing the yagna fire, making herself busy. She watched the sky and the roads for the demons’ arrival, ready for battle. She did not look at Nalini again.

  *

  As the sun set on the second day, the sentries’ cries rang out, warning the village of the oncoming swarm. It was a larger group this time, and so bedecked with bones and teeth, Shivani wondered how they could fly with such weight hanging from them, and how many they must have killed.

  Too many, she thought.

  Shivani looked at the townspeople, lessened by the losses of the previous night. Their pale, gaunt faces stared up at the demons. Some clasped hands, and she heard their fervent prayers.

  She touched the pendant, steadied her resolve, and connected with the goddess.

  Her first arrow skimmed a d
emon’s ear.

  “You missed.” His voice rumbled, a bass ripple in her belly.

  “That was a warning.” She hoped she sounded braver than she felt. “Leave this town alone.”

  The demons laughed harshly and started to land, fanning out amongst the villagers. One grabbed the loose end of a woman’s sari, pulling her to him. Shivani’s arrow punctured his heart.

  His eyes widened at the arrow poking out of his chest, and he fell, dead before he hit the ground.

  The others launched into their onslaught. These demons were not here for sport. They were here for revenge. One snarled; Shivani could only watch in horror as he reached out, taking hold of a villager and snapping his neck like a dry twig before flinging him carelessly aside. The man’s body clattered on the ground, inanimate, broken.

  This casual viciousness spread the terror even wider. Shivani saw it on the villager’s faces. Her face, she hoped, did not show the fear she felt in her heart.

  “Protect the yagna!” Shivani shouted to the townspeople, as they gathered themselves to fight back. She spotted a huge, hairy demon, shaking one of the priests like a rag doll, and put an arrow right through his forehead.

  Another lanky demon lunged towards the same priest as the man dropped to his knees. Shivani notched another arrow, but as she took aim she heard a scream. A voice she could tell apart from any other in the crowd. Her breath caught. Her heart ricocheted in her chest. This time, it was a different kind of fear.

  Nalini.

  She turned. A demon clutched Nalini by the hair as she twisted in his grip. Nalini was screaming and struggling, her hands wrapped around her belly in a futile effort to protect her child.

  Shivani hesitated, looked from the priests she was sworn to protect to Nalini, the woman she loved and had lost everything for. The power of Kali, surging inside her, urged her towards the priests. As did her duty. But her heart, faithless little traitor – or faithful, depending on the viewpoint – urged her towards the woman she loved. Shivani defied the goddess, firing instead at the demon attacking Nalini.

  Shivani swung back immediately, another arrow at the ready, and saw the priest’s head fly into the yagna’s holy fire.

  The townspeople wailed.

  The purifying fire of the yagna went out, plunging the square into sudden darkness. Shivani blinked, her eyes swiftly adjusting to the moonlight, able to pick out the remaining priests’ silhouettes as they sprang to their feet, crying over their dead colleague and the ill-luck an interrupted yagna might bring. The townspeople remained frozen, fearful of Kali’s anger. But Shivani didn’t have to wonder about that. The moment the fire went out, the rage rose inside her, hot and piercing.

  Rage at herself.

  The Goddess’ rage for being disobeyed.

  The bow fell from her hands.

  Shivani clutched her head. It felt like it was splitting from the inside. Tears of pain ran down her cheeks. In the distance, there were echoes, but they seemed too far away.

  The rage, burning, turned her vision red, even with her eyes closed.

  It consumed her, and instilled such bone deep fear that Shivani felt as if she would never stop being scared again. As if she’d always been afraid.

  The rage subsided. She understood it was a temporary respite. Kali hadn’t forgiven her, but there was still work to be done.

  She opened her eyes. Blinked. There was light. Not moonlight. She was on her knees, dizzy and confused. Several of the villagers were holding lit torches, using them as weapons. Shivani struggled to stand, dragging her bow out of the mud.

  The townspeople were fighting with whatever they could grab hold of, but there were so many more dead in the moments Shivani had retreated into herself. How much time had passed?

  The demons continued their rampage. Their object seemed to be to destroy everything, and take pleasure in it. They did not just kill, but viciously mutilated bodies. A huge demon grabbed a young man, swung his body around overhead to gain momentum and flung it as far as he could. A few of his comrades joined in, as if it was a sport.

  Struggling back to her feet, Shivani fired arrow after arrow. Firing through tears of shame. Firing till her fingers bled.

  Arrows whipped through the air, sizzling, thudding into bodies, knocking demons out of the sky.

  She had never fought so fast, or so well. But it was all too late.

  *

  The villagers gathered the bodies of their dead in one pile, and the demons in another. The demons would be burned first, quickly and without ceremony.

  When Shivani moved to help, one of the women shouted in her face. “Don’t touch my husband! It’s your fault he died in vain.”

  Everyone was staring at her. Accusing. Angry. Despondent.

  “It wasn’t her fault. They were too many,” Devika said, in a hollow voice.

  “She chose to save that woman. The zamindar’s daughter-in-law. She cost us the lives of many more. She should have saved the yagna. That’s what she’s here for.”

  “Maybe the zamindar’s got to her too? How do we know she is not in league with them?” another woman wondered aloud.

  Shivani said nothing. She moved away from their dead, and started stacking the demons’ bodies instead. These were the only bodies she’d earned the right to burn.

  “She made a mistake, but the woman is with child. Would it have been less of a sin to let a pregnant woman die?” she heard Devika say.

  The reply was muttered, intermittent. Hostile.

  Once the funeral pyres were lit, most people went to find shelter in the few houses that did not look on the verge of collapse. Many of them would have to rebuild their homes, alongside their lives. If they survived.

  Others sat, watching the flames, witnessing their loved ones reduce to ashes.

  Shivani sat apart.

  Alone.

  Between the two fires.

  Her eyes stung from the smoke. The thick smell of ash filled her lungs. She sat, and watched both fires.

  Devika came and sat next to her. “They want you to leave,” she said, without preamble.

  “How will that help?” Shivani said dully. “The demons will only return.”

  “They think you brought ill-luck by not protecting the yagna. We will hide until the king’s men arrive.”

  “You can’t hide when demons are burning down your houses. More will come, once the news of these deaths reaches their brethren.” She waved a hand towards the fire, the pyre of twisted demon-corpses.

  “Why did you do it? I thought Kali’s warriors were used to making tough choices, for the greater good.”

  Shivani stayed quiet, but the throbbing in her head began anew. Kali knew the answer, and she wasn’t pleased that she had been defied for personal affection.

  “It was because of the child, wasn’t it?” Devika asked, misinterpreting the silence. “Yes, it would have been a hard choice. But babies die every day. So do pregnant women.”

  “I will make amends,” Shivani said, with a determination she didn’t feel.

  Yes, you will, and you will pay a price for your disobedience, came a thunderous voice from within her.

  She had to make amends. Not just to the people, but to Kali. If she did not, she would never know peace again.

  “The only way to make amends is to start the yagna again, and see it through to completion,” Devika said. “But three of the priests are dead, and there aren’t enough supplies. We can’t do it.”

  “It will be done,” Shivani said. “Get some rest, Devikaji. The demons won’t return again tonight. It’s almost dawn. Tomorrow, we will start the yagna again.”

  *

  It was noon before Shivani returned to the village. She noted the surprised looks on people’s faces. They must have assumed she had run away. The truth was confirmed when she saw Devika’s relief.

  “Where did you go?” Devika asked “Four people have fallen ill. The goddess is angry, and now we will suffer for it.”

  Shivani jumped
down from her horse. “What happened to those people?” she asked.

  “They collapsed with a high fever. Our physician’s dead, too.”

  Shivani untied the pack hanging from her saddle. “I bring supplies for the yagna,” she said. “Three more priests are on their way, following in a carriage with an armed escort. They will be here before sundown. Tomorrow at sunrise, they will start the yagna once more.”

  “How did you manage that?” Devika asked.

  “Tomorrow at sunrise,” Shivani repeated. There was no need for anyone to know the price she’d paid, selling the only thing that mattered to her.

  She left Devika to distribute the supplies. The goddess would be appeased. There wasn’t much else she could do right now. She had made a choice. But even now, she wasn’t sure if she had done the wrong thing. As the thought occurred to her, the hot rage flared in her mind. Kali had no doubts about the wrongness of Shivani’s actions.

  While the remaining priest prepared for the second yagna, the townspeople cleared and cleansed the land, so it could be used again for the ritual.

  Shivani sat between the two fires, now burned to smouldering ashes, and watched the skies. She was jolted from a fitful doze when someone touched her shoulder.

  It was Nalini.

  “You saved my life,” Nalini said. “You were so brave. But then, you were always brave.”

  “I ran away.”

  “You ran away and became a warrior.”

  Shivani didn’t know what to say to that.

  “I know it’s selfish of me, but I am glad you saved me. I was so scared. I don’t want to die.”

  Shivani looked at her. At the beautiful, earnest face, amber eyes filled with tears. She had defied the goddess for Nalini. It wasn’t a conscious decision. It just was. Like breathing.

  “Go inside, Nalini. This isn’t the place for you.”

  “Eat something,” Nalini said and offered her a bowl of rice. She squeezed Shivani’s shoulder, and walked away.

  *

  The ceremony resumed at dawn. It was a more muted event than the previous attempt. There was plenty of work to be done for the town to be rebuilt, but for now, all hopes were pinned on the Kali-Kavach yagna.