Rajiv Menon -- ThunderGod

by Rajiv G rtf txt Menon

  He had ridden all day and all night for months now, stopping only to change horses. Yet he felt no exhaustion or thirst or hunger. Years of tapas had conditioned his body to sustain itself for long periods of time.

  Ahead on the trail, he saw an old shepherd warming himself in front of a little fire. Mitra slowed his mount and scanned the man's aura for any untoward signs, but it seemed normal. The shepherd folded his hands in salutation.

  'Greetings, Master Mitra! Please come and share some of my broth.'

  Mitra was startled. How did a common shepherd know who he was? He examined the shepherd's aura a little more closely. The man watched him with a mischievous smile; Mitra now saw it flare brightly at its edges. This was a sage of considerable prowess, he had masked his aura and Mitra had fallen for the ruse. Embarrassed, he greeted the shepherd with bowed head.

  'Forgive me, Master. I did not recognise you.'

  The shepherd handed him a bowl of steaming broth.

  'I am called Bhrigu, now drink.'

  Mitra drank deeply; the broth warmed his body, sending a surge of pure energy through him. The shepherd studied Mitra; his gaze seemed to penetrate the deepest corners of his mind.

  'You seem anxious, my friend. Is it your return to the world that you had once forsaken that troubles you?'

  Mitra was glad to talk about something that had been on his mind for a while.

  'I am troubled because I cannot understand the significance of this task for which I have been required to interrupt my tapas. I have done my time as a warrior, I've fulfilled my dharma.'

  'That, I am afraid, is not for you to decide. You, Master Mitra, are to play a part in a series of events that are going to reshape the destiny of your people. This is something you cannot walk away from, so do not spend time dwelling on the reasons--do what must be done.'

  Mitra acknowledged the wisdom in those words and bowed his head in humility.

  'Thank you Master, you have set my troubled mind at ease.'

  'The camp of Raja Daeyus is a two-week hard ride from here. Follow the trail across these mountains and then head due northwest.'

  Mitra rose and bowed respectfully.

  'Oh! Just one more thing before you leave.'

  The shepherd reached into his robe and pulled out an engraved stone pendent on a leather string. Though he did not recognise the emblem, Mitra noted that the work on the stone was exquisite, from an era long gone.

  'Sacrifice has always been the cornerstone of the faith and belief of your clans. A supreme sacrifice will be required for the success of this mission.'

  He handed the pendent to Mitra.

  'This will grant you safe passage when you need it most. Now go, for time is of the essence.'

  Mitra thanked Bhrigu and was soon on his way.

  ***

  Daeyus lay unconscious for weeks; the physical effects of the poison had disappeared from his body and the wound had healed well, yet traces of the potent toxin continued to ravage his mind. Daeyus moaned and cried out as he slipped in and out of consciousness. He saw the Apsaras make their way towards him, they licked their lips and stared at his body hungrily; he watched spellbound, as their beautiful hands reached out to caress his naked body. Suddenly, before his eyes, the hands started to change shape; they slowly turned into claws and talons that started to dig deep into his flesh. As they brought their faces near, razor-sharp beaks and canines tore into his body and ripped off large chunks of flesh.

  Daeyus woke up with a start, his body covered in perspiration. The nightmare had felt so real, he examined his body, almost expecting it to be torn and bleeding. Daeyus allowed himself a smile of relief; he was never one to remember his dreams, yet every unpleasant detail of this nightmare was firmly etched in his memory.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a scream. It was a woman. A few moments of silence and there it was again, only this time louder. Daeyus jumped out of bed and made his way swiftly through the trees in the direction of the cries. The screams intensified, and then there was silence.

  Daeyus stopped, every muscle in his body tense. The forest was dark and sinister. He was not sure what would come out of those trees at any moment. All of a sudden, he heard another cry, this time it was of a newborn child. The raja squatted down on his haunches and let out a sigh of relief. Then he got up with a smile and slowly made his way in the direction of the sound.

  As he came to a clearing, the spectacle stopped him dead in his tracks. Bathed in moonlight, the beautiful Apsaras were gathered around in a circle. In the middle, on a bed of white flowers, lay his lover. Her great beauty still shone through in spite of the exhaustion and rigours of childbirth. Next to her lay a beautiful baby. It gurgled with joy as it kicked its tiny legs in the air and stared up into the sky. Daeyus stayed near the trees, not wanting to defile this ethereal scene with his presence.

  It was the magic hour before dawn, when night prepares to surrender to the day. A thick dark cloud had mysteriously appeared over the clearing. A beam of light emerged from the cloud; it enveloped the bed and the circle of nymphs. Gaia looked up at the cloud; her face broke into a gentle smile as she shut her eyes. Daeyus was transfixed as he watched his lover being gently lifted through the beam of light into the cloud.

  Still in a daze, he made his way through the circle of nymphs and took the baby in his arms. It was a boy, a big heavy boy, with a shock of blond hair. The baby opened his blue eyes, looked at Daeyus and gave him a toothless grin. Daeyus felt a stab of emotion in his heart as he looked into the baby's eyes. They perfectly mirrored his own. There was no doubt in his mind; this was his son, a gift from the gods.

  The Deva chief raised the boy high above his shoulder and shouted at the top of his voice. 'Long live Indra! Future king of the Devas.'

  From the cloud above them came a resounding clap of thunder as if to punctuate the statement. The denizens of the forest cried out in alarm and the Apsaras ran for cover, but the baby only looked up into the heavens, clapped his tiny hands, and laughed.

  2

  Shalla awoke with a start. He pushed aside the naked woman who lay sprawled across his thighs. All around him were remnants of the previous night's orgy, now an array of beautiful motionless bodies strewn across the vast royal bed like corpses, in extremely lewd positions. The wine from the previous night lay heavy in his head and fogged his mind. As he struggled to regain his faculties, he heard it again.

  'Thunder! It can't be, not at this time of the year. It's still spring and only the third day of the week-long Spring Festival of Susa,' Shalla thought to himself as he rushed to the doors of his balcony and threw them open.

  Outside, the skies had turned dark. Thick clouds hid the sun, making it seem as if day had suddenly become night. Streaks of lightning snaked through the sky, followed by the deafening sound of thunder. In the streets, people hurriedly took down the festoons and the coloured canopies that had been put up for the festival. Shalla stared out blankly at the sky, not sure what to make of this strange phenomenon.

  A slave approached and bowed low.

  'Excellency! The high priest has sent word: the goddess is ready to speak with you.'

  Shalla scratched his balls vigorously.

  'Hurry up then, fool. Prepare me for the temple.'

  In the great hall of the temple, at the feet of the marble statue of Ishtar, Braega sat naked and cross-legged, eyes closed. Shalla looked at his withered, old body in disgust as he was led to his seat opposite the high priest. One of the attendants came forward with a copper bowl filled with a strange powder. Another attendant put a glowing ember into it. The powder began to crackle as it caught fire and thick smoke started to rise from the vessel. The attendant held the bowl under Braega's nose, and the high priest inhaled deeply.

  Shalla watched as the high priest's eyeballs began to roll back into their sockets. His head began to slowly thrash up and down. A strange noise began to emanate from his throat; it was a chant, in some alien tongue. Then suddenly Braega went still,
his chin resting on his chest. The attendants silently melted away into the darkness, leaving the king alone with the high priest.

  Slowly Braega raised his head. His eyeballs had moved up under his eyelids and only the whites of his eyes showed. As he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was thin and had a strange, quavering, high pitch.

  'A child has been born to the Deva chief, Daeyus. The one who will unite the warring sons of Aditi. If he is left to live, he will grow so powerful that he will one day destroy our world.'

  The high priest's next words were shrill and hysterical.

  'Kill him now, Shalla, and save your people!'

  Shalla listened carefully to the words of Ishtar, daughter of the moon. He had no idea as to who this Aditi or her sons were, but if it was Daeyus' child, he was within his grasp.

  He bowed his head.

  'Is that all you require of me, to kill a newborn child? You may consider it done.'

  He paused for a moment as he waited for a reply, but the naked, bald man was still. Shalla tried to sound as humble as he possibly could.

  'Now tell me, oh divine one! You, who are the queen of the night sky. What of my star? Does it continue to shine brighter than ever?'

  Shalla watched in exasperation as Braega's chin dropped back to his chest. The goddess was no longer available for counsel. The attendants arrived and whisked the unconscious old man away. Shalla hid his irritation as he ordered one of the men to summon his general.

  General Druma was a veteran soldier who had risen through the ranks. He had distinguished himself in the Sumerian campaign, and in return for his services, Shalla had promoted him to commander-in-chief of the Elamite army, a post usually reserved for the king himself. As he entered the temple, he found the king pacing about like a caged animal.

  Druma saluted smartly with his right fist over his heart. Shalla hurriedly acknowledged it with a wave of his hand.

  'What news do you have from Sumer?' he asked anxiously.

  The news was both good and bad, so Druma chose his words carefully.

  'Sargon the Asura has moved eastwards and taken the cities of Nippur and Adab.'

  Shalla was quiet as he pondered this information. He saw Sargon as a bigger threat than any child from a prophecy.

  'How long before he musters up the men and the courage to march against Elam?'

  'The Asura king has already spread himself too thin in his campaign in Sumer. He is a long way from his capital Assur, and Sumerian rebels are constantly attacking his supply lines. It will take him a few years to consolidate his present empire. I do not think we need to worry about Sargon for some time, Your Majesty.'

  Shalla was relieved to hear that piece of news. Just then Braega returned, decked again in his usual finery. Shalla turned to him.

  'What did she mean by this prophecy? Who is this child I must kill?'

  Braega was not his pompous old self that day. His tone was deadly serious as he addressed the king.

  'My lord, the meaning is clear. You must kill the son of Daeyus. But to do that and leave the father alive would be catastrophic. Attack the Devas now while they are still weak and kill them all.'

  Shalla considered the words of the high priest very carefully. Although there was no love lost between him and the Devas, he found it hard to believe that this ragtag bunch of savages would dream of taking on the forty-foot high stonewalls of Susa. Besides, he still had use for Daeyus and his mercenary army; they would be his first line of defence against Sargon the Asura.

  He weighed his words carefully before he spoke. He did not care about this old fool but he did not wish to offend the goddess.

  'Can't this wait a while, your holiness? If this child is as important as you say he is, I do not want history to remember me as a child-killer.'

  'My lord! If this child is allowed to live, he will grow up to be a demon such as the world has never seen. He will unite the barbarian hordes that arrive from the northern plains. They will ransack our city and lay waste our lands. It will be as if the kingdom of Elam and this magnificent city never existed. Do you wish to go down in history as the king who let the destroyer of his city slip through his hands when he had the chance to kill him?'

  Shalla gave the old man a look of pure hatred. Priest or no priest, no man could speak to him, the king of Susa, that way. For a moment he considered drawing his sword and loping off that wrinkly, old head. He imagined sending it back to the temple on a tray to be presented to Ishtar. But he quickly suppressed the thought. He used up every ounce of self-control that he possessed to douse his fury and turned to General Druma.

  'Ready the troops. We march in two hours.'

  ***

  The raja's safe return with his heir was greeted with great joy and relief. All sorts of rumours had abounded about Daeyus' sudden disappearance. Now they were replaced by demands for a grand feast.

  On the appointed day, Daeyus sat on his ceremonial throne and awaited the festivities announced in his honour. To his left lay his son in a beautiful cradle made of dark pine and adorned with gold.

  In keeping with tradition, a sacrifice preceded the festivities. Susena, high priest of the Deva clan, stood up to address the gathering. His thin and lanky frame was draped in a robe of white embroidered with gold thread--he was a man who took pride in his appearance. His face was narrow and lean and his raven black hair fell straight to his shoulders. His hooked nose and hooded gaze gave him a vulture-like appearance.

  Daeyus watched him wearily. He had no patience for the high priest; he thought the man was a preening peacock who loved the sound of his own voice. He hoped the fool would hurry up so they could get on with the real celebrations.

  Susena addressed the gathering in his deep voice, commanding attention.

  'Devas, we are gathered here today to give thanks to Surya for delivering our raja safely back to us.'

  A thousand voices rang out in praise for the sun. Susena waited for the excitement to subside. For all his vanity, he was a brilliant orator; he knew exactly how to hold an audience.

  'The raja also filled my heart with rapturous delight by informing me of a new arrival to our clan. His son, your future king, Indra.'

  The crowd erupted with joy at this announcement and began to press forward to get a better look at the baby. Rumours had abounded in the camp about the arrival of a mystery child; the official confirmation now drove them wild. Daeyus went up to the cradle, picked up his son and held him aloft for his subjects. The deafening roars of the crowd could be heard for miles.

  Susena tried to restore order but in vain. Finally he called at the top of his voice.

  'Let the sacrifice be presented.'

  A quiet descended on the crowd as a giant, black bull was brought forward. The Devas were connoisseurs of cattle; it was the main unit of currency and the only true measure of a man's wealth and power in their society.

  This bull was truly magnificent, standing at least six feet above the ground at its shoulders. Its coat of ebony shone with the radiance of health; it was lean in the flanks while its shoulders and haunches were bunched with heavy muscle. Daeyus looked into the creature's eyes; there was no fear in them, only a mild curiosity at all the fuss. It did not cower like sacrificial creatures usually did, but stood tall and proud, chewing on its cud and gazing at the open country beyond the camp. Daeyus summoned his master herdsman.

  'This creature is not from our herds. Where did you find it?'

  'This, my lord, is a fighting bull from Harappa,' the herdsman announced proudly. 'I have been grooming him for years, for an occasion such as this. He is truly a sacrifice meant for a great king.'

  The raja and his subjects watched with interest as the bull was solemnly led to the altar. Susena began the incantations invoking the sun to accept the sacrifice. Four robust young men tried to force the head of the animal down onto the chopping block. The bull let out a loud bellow and shook its mighty head; the four men were thrown off the altar into the enthralled audience.

>   The crowd was highly amused as more men scrambled onto the altar to control the beast. The bull kicked out with its powerful hind legs. One of its hooves caught a man under his chin, snapped his neck clean and threw him back like a rag doll, into the now worried crowd. The other men on the altar slowly backed away.

  The executioner, a pot-bellied giant of a man, dropped his axe and nearly wet himself in fright. Clearly, this was something he was not used to. A sacrificial animal fighting back--it was unheard of. The bull turned sharply towards him and one of its needle-sharp horns raked him across the belly, laying it open. He fell to the ground with his entrails spread all around him, screaming and writhing in agony.

  Nobody in the crowd was laughing now. They watched horror-struck as the bull now turned around looking for an escape route. Standing directly in its path was the cradle with Indra in it. Daeyus leapt across from his throne to land directly between the bull and his son's cradle. The animal lowered its head and pawed at the earth with its front hooves. Daeyus stood his ground, his eyes locked into those of the beast.

  For one brief moment they stood motionless, studying each other. Then the bull snorted, steam billowing from its nostrils, lowered its giant head and charged. Daeyus crouched low as he braced himself to grab the creature's massive horns. At the very last second, the animal swerved to a side and ran off through the crowd into the wilderness beyond the camp.

  The raja restrained his huntsmen from chasing down the animal. The mood at the camp was now sullen, the festive air gone, replaced by a certain sense of foreboding. Susena and the priests huddled together in a corner and whispered to each other. Daeyus returned to his quarters, issuing orders that he was not to be disturbed.

  After his long deliberations with the other priests, Susena lay in his tent, deep in thought. The sacrifice had not been completed and Deva blood had been spilt on the altar--the omen did not bode well for the tribe. Susena shut his eyes and sighed deeply, perhaps the next day would present a solution.