Mauri, page 15
“You, little one,” Alambusha said holding her arm and stopping Mauri from taking the next step, “shall stop that brat while I search in here for that elusive enemy inside who dared to kill my soldiers.”
“And why would I do that?”
“You are smarter than this, Mauri,” Alambusha smirked.
Mauri frowned and shook Alambusha’s hand off her arm. “The ‘phoney king’ should be very valiant if someone like you prefers to stay holed up here than face him in a fair fight.” Stop running to me every time you are unable to fight, Rakshasa.”
The taunt tested the last of the patience that Alambusha could command. Sensing his menace, Dhatri tried to dissuade Mauri from saying anything more, but something in the younger girl had broken free of its bounds.
“Or save us the trouble. I shall deal with my enemy alright. You barbarians leave Kamarupa and have your skirmish elsewhere.”
Alambusha reddened in fury.
Mauri was far from being intimidated by his bulk. But the Rakshasa lord had more than brute force in his mind. He knew exactly how to handle Mauri’s ill-timed rebellion. “Little one…” The words now bore no traces of the endearment he had feigned all this while. To Mauri’s concern, he now stationed himself between the two women, blocking Dhatri. “Ghatotkacha has a soft corner for you. Yes, despite the betrayal at Jwala.”
“If you think that I shall aid you in your shady designs again, you will only be disappointed. Mahadevi, come with…”
Making no visible move, Alambusha only smirked for a moment. Rolling his eyes when Mauri felt for her weapon, he sighed, turning away from her. Mauri stepped back, sensing something amiss. A part of her wished to fly at the rogue Rakshasa to ease the consequences of her stupidity. But numbers were something even she had to respect.
Glancing at the ageing high priestess of Kamarupa, Alambusha clapped and six or seven ferocious Rakshasa soldiers appeared at the entrance. “Make this easy for me and for yourself, Mauri.” Alambusha abandoned the endearment and jerked at Mauri’s arm. The Rakshasas surrounded Dhatri.
Coward! Mauri frantically thought of ways to rescue Dhatri. “You are the one who taught me warfare, Alambusha. How can I better someone you hesitate to face yourself?” She tried to soften her tone but, to her disappointment, her haughty voice ruined any chances of her sounding diplomatic.
Alambusha shook his head, “I have lived long enough to learn that valour on the battlefield is just an obsession of storytellers.” He towered above Mauri, blocking any view she had of Dhatri. “Consider this a lesson too, little one. Play on his soft corner, bring him to me, alive or dead … no, not dead, alive. Only then will your Mahadevi be safe.”
“No, Mauri!” Dhatri hurried forward, but her ageing body was no match to Alambusha’s brute strength. “My life is not indispensable. Don’t fight his enemy. Don’t let history repeat itself.”
Krishna’s words rang in her ears. He had foretold this situation! Mauri’s lips quivered in realisation. If need be, seek his help. If need be, seek his help.
Ghatotkacha looked at the closed gates of the fortress and smiled to himself. The walls of Kamarupa needed more than a few repairs if they were to withstand a siege. He guessed that Dhatri had not given it much thought once the protection of Kamarupa was assured by Krishna on behalf of the then emperor Yudhishthira. His faithful aide, Munja, had slipped in and out of the fortress with crucial details of its weaknesses. Ghatotkacha had decided that brute force was enough to break the gates. The rust collecting at the hinges, Munja told him, would aid their efforts. They had already achieved the initial harder part—scaling the hill undetected by Alambusha’s followers. He only prayed that Abhaya had managed to keep herself and the yoginis safe. It concerned him that Munja had not heard from Abhaya after she had parted ways with them. But there was no way of knowing unless he banged on those gates.
A distinct advantage Ghatotkacha knew his faithful band of followers had at the moment was their energy level while the sun shone. Alambusha’s faction, on the other hand, still stuck to their nocturnal routines. Having recently taken to a daytime routine, he exactly knew when the other side would be at their weakest. Right in the hour preceding midday, he had the hill fortress surrounded by the young Rakshasa battalion and issued a challenge. The response was due any moment. Upon any kind of delay, he would go ahead, tearing down the gates with brute force. Munja was also ready with a secondary plan to breach the walls in case the gates held on. He nodded at Munja, who discreetly nodded at their forces which were strategically divided into two divisions.
The smile on Ghatotkacha’s face faded the moment he saw the figure that had appeared atop the wall. Unknown to him, his fists curled over his club and his heart fought against the searing pain of the memory. The memory of betrayal. Only the intensity of his gaze in an otherwise indifferent expression and stance showed how he was affected. No more of this. Not now!
Mauri saw him. Like he commands a new surge of energy after their last meeting. Mauri had little in her defence. And she had other things on her mind before she could take an interest in defending herself. She had no wish to defend her past actions. Face it! But her predicament sorely needed external help and his demeanour did not give her any hope that he would be willing to trust—or even listen to—her. Mauri steeled her heart and inhaled. She was going to need all her courage for this!
She forced a smile onto her lips and looked at him, trying to summon her old self. “So, we have visitors!” she thundered, glancing at his small band of Rakshasa followers. “But I regret to inform you that the temple is closed to pilgrims indefinitely.”
“Closed to pilgrims, open to monstrous rogues and their heartless little minions,” Ghatotkacha retorted. “Perhaps there needs to be a change.”
Her guilt notwithstanding, Mauri was not going to brook being called names, much less being called a minion to a crafty coward like Alambusha. Still, his pain when he uttered the word “heartless” did not go unnoticed by her. Her frown narrowed and she fought back any traces of regret. In vain though. “Change comes at a price, Rakshasa Prince … sorry, King. Though I must say the population under your command has dwindled too much for one to still consider you a king.” She could see his annoyance mounting. Something amused her about it. “So tell me what you can pay, Ghatotkacha!”
Ghatotkacha shrugged, looking around. “I would have loved to play a game of word parlay. Except this is no stage and there is no audience to enjoy the exchange.” His eyes betrayed his impatience. “I come to keep a promise. A promise of protection that was given to this sacred place under the rule of my uncle, Emperor Yudhishthira. My demand is clear, daughter of late Commander Mura. Open the gates and surrender the rogue Rakshasa traitors to me. Open up this temple of the Supreme Goddess to those who deserve to see Her.”
“I asked for a price you could pay and you repeat the demand. By the Goddess, someone needs to grow up!” Mauri sneered back and leaned against a pole, feigning nonchalance. This was all going nowhere—her show of hostility, his mounting anger and Alambusha preferring to hide inside the inner circle—while Dhatri’s life was in danger. She needed to break away. She struck upon a frantic plan, praying to all the gods for its success. “There seems to be only one language you understand. Defeat me and you can have a free pass inside.”
The Rakshasas on Alambusha’s side behind her murmured in dissent. “A duel would mean we have to let them in,” one of them ventured to voice. “Alambusha would not allow that!”
Mauri smiled inwardly. “None of them will enter the premises, I assure you.” Seeing their sceptical looks, she unsheathed her long sword. “I shall go down the wall myself.”
Forget it! Ghatotkacha shook his head. “Enough theatrics! We are wasting time.” He signalled the first row of his followers. “Bring down the gates!” About twelve of them raised an uprooted tree trunk they had felled, uttered a war cry and marched forward.
“Idiot!” Mauri cursed under her breath and raced down the stairs towards the gates. By the time she reached them, they heard the thudding sound that caused the ground to shake. The huge gates shuddered in their hinges.
“Open the gates!” Mauri ordered. Before the Rakshasas operating the enormous bolt of the entrance protested, she added, “Open them before they hit the gates next. Let the first lot run in and then close the gates immediately! Rally!”
But they were not used to taking orders from her. To her dismay, they were not even the kind who were trained in defending forts. By the time they had comprehended her instructions, Ghatotkacha’s aides launched their second onslaught on the gates again. Mauri shouted at the guard who stood by the smaller door in the left gate. Sensing the attackers recede to launch their next onslaught, she grabbed the bolt of the smaller door, wresting it open. “Secure it behind me!” she cried at the nearest Rakshasa and banged it shut.
Undaunted at the sight of the advancing Rakshasas, she stood her ground, like the impending impact would not affect her. She heard Ghatotkacha shout a hurried instruction for the Rakshasas to stop. The anger and impatience on his face suggested something more than typical battle rage. Mauri saw him stride ahead and stop less than three feet away from her. The look in his eyes made her doubt Krishna’s words. But she did not expect him to strike first.
Ghatotkacha’s spiked scimitar landed on Mauri’s sword with a force she did not expect him to use but she held on, straining every bit of her muscle and nerve. Something in his anger shook her from within. It would have been the end of her troubles had he chosen to cut her throat instead. But Mauri reminded herself that even guilt was a luxury she could not afford.
“That rat Alambusha is lowly enough to use you in getting his will done. But it surprises me that someone like you became his minion, playing into his shady plans, Mauri.” He chided himself for even desiring to see traces of remorse or realisation in her.
How dare you call me that again! How could she grovel before someone who had such a poor opinion of her? Mauri launched her offence, a renewed anger resurfacing in her eyes.
Ghatotkacha took the impact and jerked his scimitar enough to lock the edge of her sword between the spikes of his weapon. In the moment of deadlock, he saw her lashes moisten, but only for a moment. “Tell your lord that he is gravely mistaken if he thought my love for you would work to his advantage. Again!”
Let him be! Mauri’s lips parted while she tried to break her sword free of the deadlock. She was running out of options. She could not even die and face her father after failing Dhatri. “Mahadevi Dhatri’s life is at his mercy!” It was barely a whisper. The next moment, she jerked the scimitar off her weapon, the impact causing sparks.
“Like you expected him to honour her, you fool!”
Mauri launched herself bodily upon him, this time succeeding in stunning his defence, but stopped short of slashing her sword against his cheek. “Help me save her!” She saw the anger in his glare turn into disbelief and then into contempt. “Vaasudeva told me you would help me!”
To his frustration, Ghatotkacha felt his anger ebb away. Rather, a part of it was redirected at Krishna for making promises on his behalf! But despite all his grievances, Ghatotkacha did not want the gentle and majestic mahadevi to be harmed. He could imagine Hidimba’s voice ringing in his ears, exhorting him to save Dhatri. He sensed the Rakshasa minions of Alambusha murmur above seeing him hesitate and he shoved Mauri, throwing her against the wall! She winced but sealed her lips with visible force to not let a cry of pain escape. Something stirred in him.
“What did Alambusha tell you?”
“To bring you to him alive,” Mauri grunted, squirming against his arm plate that pinned her against the wall. “Help me save her.”
She could see in his eyes that his anger was fading. But the indignation and reproach stayed longer than she expected. For a moment, she felt him loosen his hold over her neck but not by much. “Ask nicely.” She thought he almost grinned.
“Kill me but save her.” She heard him grunt in frustration and could not help smiling. They were shielded by the doorway from the gaze of the Rakshasas above. Mauri felt his scimitar recede.
“Listen to me at least this one time, for a change.” He could not help betray traces of contempt.
Rebellion got the better of her and flashed in her eyes. But Mauri was in no place to bargain or argue. With a frown, she managed to nod.
“Take my weapon. And take me to him.”
Mauri’s eyes widened. “Are you helping me or Alambusha!”
“I said take my weapon for a reason!” Just as she reached out, Ghatotkacha shook his head and added in a low whisper, “Shove me across there where those fools above can see me. Will let go of the weapon then and then you act!”
From where he stood, Munja could see Ghatotkacha flash a signal the moment Mauri confiscated his weapon. Even as his companions cried in disappointment, he knew the next course of action.
“What just happened?” Abhaya exclaimed, clutching Krishna’s arm. “I can’t believe Ghatotkacha walked into danger just like that!”
Krishna nudged her, sensing a presence hover above the fort wall. The recess that made for their hiding place was hidden by a thick overgrowth of a hill creeper but they could not let their guard down. His grip on her arm eased a moment later. “We made this conscious choice to leave the field to them, did we not? Looks like he felt it is a risk worth taking, Dhaarmaseni.”
Abhaya rolled her eyes and then sighed, giving in. “We all take risks and gambles, don’t we, Krishna?” After a quiet pause, she added, “What if Brother Yudhishthira had won the dice game instead? Would we have ridiculed him then as well?”
“He would have given back what he won because he knows how to empathise. And that would have earned him some ridicule!” Krishna’s gaze turned distant.
“And that is why you stick to him!” Abhaya smiled.
They trained their gaze back to the battalion of Rakshasas that had followed Ghatotkacha, confusion mounting among them. Time to intervene. They looked at each other before springing into action.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alambusha surveyed what lay before him—the Rakshasa king, bound, kneeling at his feet! Well, Mauri had to knock Ghatotkacha to his knees, forcing him to kneel, but Alambusha could live with that. Now Hidimba would surrender to him if she wanted to save this son of hers. It seemed surreal, being so close to what he had desired all along. He would have loved to smash Ghatotkacha’s head but the brat’s life held value. At least until Hidimba’s surrender. Alambusha walked up to where Ghatotkacha knelt. To his surprise, Mauri blocked his way.
“Release the mahadevi.” She pushed him back by a step.
Alambusha grimaced at her continuing defiance. If my heart was not set upon Hidimba, this one would have made a fine mate. He inched closer, showing no signs of obeying her command. His hand gripped Ghatotkacha’s neck and Mauri stiffened.
“You got your rival. Now release Dhatri and take your fight away from Kamarupa,” she thundered again, holding her sword to Alambusha’s neck. A part of her wanted to drive the weapon in and put an end to all trouble. But she had to ensure that Dhatri was alive.
“Release her or I will give him back his weapon!” she threatened, unmindful of the curse Ghatotkacha muttered.
Alambusha laughed aloud. “If not for the fondness I had for you, you would have been long dead, little one!” The next moment, he clapped, turning towards the door behind him. A Rakshasa brought Dhatri out of the room.
Mauri’s heart leapt and then sank upon seeing the scimitar pointed at the mahadevi’s neck. She could hurry to Dhatri’s side but that would effectively render Ghatotkacha unarmed. She sensed Ghatotkacha getting restless on the ground.
“Go, save her.”
But Mauri froze when she saw Alambusha take out a spiked knife. Even if it did not kill, she was sure it would badly hurt Ghatotkacha. His elbow nudged her leg again. Mauri thought fast. She hurried forward, pretending to trip and collided with Alambusha. The hilt of her sword hitting his wrist, the knife fell from his hands. Now she had to race to Dhatri and throw Ghatotkacha’s weapon back to him before Alambusha retrieved it. She leapt, trying to put the plan into action only to fall flat on her face. Alambusha had tripped her.
“Kill the mahadevi!” His foot pressed over Mauri’s hand holding Ghatotkacha’s scimitar.
“No!”
“Alambusha!”
Mauri saw in horror as the Rakshasa shove Dhatri against the wall and raise his scimitar. In her younger years, Dhatri would have fought back. But age as well as the happenings of the last few months had physically drained the high priestess. The mahadevi tried to dodge the weapon but was not completely successful. Mauri struggled to break free and let out a piercing cry, seeing the Rakshasa’s weapon draw blood out of Dhatri’s leg.
Many things happened simultaneously the next moment. A swishing sound was heard and before any of them could glean its source, the Rakshasa’s head lay on the ground, severed. Mauri turned and saw someone disappear behind the pillars of the temple. She could see only a female hand over a short bow. Her eyes moistened.
Dhaarmaseni!
At the very moment, Ghatotkacha lunged and kicked at Alambusha’s legs from under him and both men fell to the ground, giving Mauri the respite she needed to rush to Dhatri and tend to her injury.
“Forgive me, Mahadevi!” She tried stopping the blood flow with the edge of her garment. Dhatri’s face had already assumed an unearthly pallor. Mauri frantically tried to shake her to consciousness. But the high priestess looked like she had lost the will to live. Ghatotkacha’s cry made her jump and she turned to find him battling at least six Rakshasas unarmed. She threw the spiked scimitar at him. But a Rakshasa stood in Ghatotkacha’s way.
