The Wrath of the Hellfires, page 49
“You have my word.”
A twisted smile creased the deva’s face. “I believe you,” he nodded. “I will fight—”
Without warning, he charged at Vikramaditya, his bone sword raised and swinging.
The king barely had time to raise his own sword and block the blow, which was aimed at his head. Steel and bone rang out loud, and the impact of the strike sent Vikramaditya stumbling, and Indra sprang forward to deal the king another blow. The samrat parried, almost losing his hold on one of the Hellfires. Not wanting to give his adversary room to recover, Indra swung again and again, pushing Vikramaditya towards the causeway. The king was so busy dodging the deva’s blows that he had neither the time nor the opportunity to attempt a counterattack.
One foot on the causeway, barely a yard from the lip of the lake… and still being beaten back by the deva, Vikramaditya breathed in and analyzed the pattern of Indra’s attack: a swipe, another swipe, a lunge forward… Steeling himself, the samrat staved off the swipes and the lunge. Then, as the next set of swipes began, he abruptly stepped a little closer to Indra.
Swipe. Block.
Swipe. Block.
The deva lunged, the bone sword driving at Vikramaditya’s midriff, where the cut from Hiranyaksha’s sword had reopened and was bleeding again. The king pulled back, but not so quickly that Indra lost the incentive to persist with his attack; instead, keeping within range, Vikramaditya drew the deva into the stroke, the sword’s tip dangerously close to his stomach, enticing Indra to stay with the thrust and strive a little harder.
And sure enough, committed to the stroke, believing he could nail his enemy if he stretched himself just a bit more, Indra leaned into the thrust—
—and overbalanced.
Spinning on his heel for momentum and leverage, Vikramaditya launched a furious assault on Indra. He rained a flurry of blows with the Hellfires, slashing high and low, alternating between short jabs and sweeping cuts, rattling the deva’s bone sword and cutting through his defences to inflict searing wounds on his forearms. He lashed out without cease, not stopping to catch his breath, not slowing to give his arms rest…
And with every blow, Indra was repelled backwards. The deva stumbled and dropped to one knee, but Vikramaditya was relentless. Indra raised his sword to fend off the blows, but the samrat leaped in the air, twirling full circle and bringing both Hellfires down on the upraised sword.
The bone sword cracked and shattered.
Indra stared at Vikramaditya in shock. The king looked down at the deva in anger, his chest heaving from the exertion, the Hellfires held halfway up, smouldering slowly.
Indra’s eyes went to the Hellfires, then returned to the king.
“I should kill you now, except that you are defenceless,” the samrat said through gritted teeth.
“You and your honour,” the deva sneered. “Come on, do it.”
Vikramaditya stared into the cold, blue eyes.
“Do it,” Indra challenged. “Do it now, or I will return for Veeshada’s dagger.”
“Veeshada’s dagger doesn’t exist anymore,” a familiar voice came from across the trench.
Vikramaditya looked up to see Shukracharya in chains, standing next to Amara Simha. Two other heavily built figures were also in chains, while a fat, bejewelled figure stood to the left of Amara Simha.
“Mahaguru Shukracharya,” Indra remarked with a dry smile. “What deceptions do you intend planting with that little lie of yours?”
“It is not a lie, lord of Devaloka,” the high priest called out. “It is the absolute truth. That man standing in front of you…” he pointed with his head, “…has done us both in, defeated both of us.”
Confounded, Indra looked up at the samrat. “What do you mean?” he asked, turning back.
“He has destroyed the Halahala, deva.”
“You expect me to fall for that one?” Indra scoffed, glancing at Vikramaditya.
“I was there when he threw the dagger into Borderworld. Neither Borderworld nor the dagger exists anymore,” the high priest said.
“What happened to Borderworld?” Indra gaped. “Why doesn’t it exist?”
Seeing Shukracharya keep mum, the king smiled sardonically. “Tell him,” he goaded. When the high priest still didn’t speak, he said, “It was his and the asura army’s doing. In their lust for the Halahala, they destroyed the Ghoulmaster’s tree, the tree that sustained Borderworld.”
He looked at Indra. “If you are wondering, it was I who left the Halahala in Betaal’s custody, and Borderworld paid the price. But never again, for I have destroyed Veeshada’s dagger. No one can claim the Halahala anymore, no one can threaten to destroy any of the three worlds.”
The lord of the devas gazed at the king in astonishment. “You… destroyed the dagger?”
Vikramaditya nodded. “And now, I have to decide what to do with you.”
His eyes went from the deva to the high priest as he spoke. “I asked you to leave us in peace and never return to Avanti. Yet, you came back.” His gaze returned to Indra. “I told you I would never part with the Halahala, but you didn’t listen. You tried to take my wife from me, my brother from me…” the samrat’s voice went through an angry inflection, “You sent your half-horses and snake-heads to burn my city. You came back when I had warned you to keep away. And you,” he went back to looking at Shukracharya, “You destroyed Borderworld. You took my friend’s home away, so he had nowhere to go and I had to bring him to Avanti. In your greed, the two of you sent your armies to destroy my beloved Ujjayini…” The Hellfires raged hot in his hands. “How must I punish you?” he thundered. “How?”
Silence stretched around the causeway.
“The asuras meant you no ill will,” the high priest spoke at last. “Remember, it was my desire to cure the queen fully and to help you in whatever way we could. All the asuras ever wanted was the Halahala… but now that we cannot have it, we will bother you no more. Let us go our way in peace.”
The king looked at Indra, who stared right back. “You are a deva,” the deva lord said heavily. “I cannot believe you destroyed the dagger instead of giving it to the devas. But whatever is done cannot be undone, which goes for the suffering you and your city have endured as well. I regret that, but it was all for the Halahala. There was nothing personal in any of this.”
A bitter smile played on Vikramaditya’s lips. “There is talk of peace now, and apologies are being offered. I assume it is expected of me to reciprocate by letting bygones be bygones and being magnanimous… that I be the bigger person and let my noble nature dictate a course of action.” He paused and his hands fell wearily to his sides. The glow of the Hellfires dimmed. “I let you leave the last time around. I will give you a chance to leave again,” he said. “Take your armies and rid yourselves of my city as quickly as you can. Put as much distance as you can between yourself and Ujjayini.”
He pinned his gaze on Shukracharya. “Go,” he said as a thin, cold smile turned the corners of his mouth. “Go,” he said, switching back to Indra, “—before I change my mind. Go now, go.”
Shukracharya’s eye widened in alarm as he beheld the samrat step back to allow Indra to get to his feet. The deva strode away, motioning to the Maruts to follow, but the high priest kept an anxious gaze trained on the king. Then, as the chains came off him and his sons, he spun around and elbowed through the assembled yakshas and human soldiers, muttering under his breath.
“Hurry,” he egged his sons. “Let’s get out of here.”
He broke into a run, and Amarka and Chandasura
did likewise. “What is the matter, father?” asked Amarka, drawing level.
Instead of offering an explanation, Shukracharya shot a backward glance at Indra, who was still mounting his elephant. “Fool,” he snapped, waving at his sons to keep up.
Amara Simha and Kubera watched the high priest and his sons disappear into the dark before exchanging dismayed glances. By the causeway, Vararuchi stepped towards his brother.
“We can’t let them go—” he began protesting, but he paused when his eyes met the samrat’s. Vikramaditya nodded as he went past and stepped onto the causeway.
Vararuchi turned to see Indra astride the mammoth. Five bolts of lightning arrived to take the bruised and battered Maruts away. Kalidasa slowly sheathed his scimitar.
Vikramaditya trudged down the causeway, scowling in pain and counting his steps.
Do it. Do it now, or I will return for Veeshada’s dagger.
All the asuras ever wanted was the Halahala… but now that we cannot have it, we will bother you no more.
It was all for the Halahala. There was nothing personal in any of this.
The samrat had crossed the midway point and was nearing the palace door. He slowed… and came to a stop. He turned to look at Ujjayini. Indra’s elephant was still in sight. Shukracharya was nowhere to be seen.
I let you leave the last time around… I will give you a chance to leave again.
His grip tightened on the Hellfires. The swords caught fire instantly.
Take your armies and rid yourselves of my city as quickly as you can.
“Arise, sisters of Naraka,” Vikramaditya whispered.
Put as much distance as you can between yourself
and Ujjayini.
“Arise and annihilate those who mean ill of the one who wields these swords.” The words left the king’s lips in a caress as he swung the Hellfires and whips of flame erupted, looping and coiling in the air.
Go—before I change my mind.
One, two, three… the whips rose as though caught in a swirl of wind, pirouetting around one another, knitting in and out over the palace, fusing together—
In a wink of an eye, the churails were in the sky over Ujjayini.
The sight of the banshees evoked a wild cheer around the lake. Almost at once, the cheer was interspersed with a roar of voices and stamping of feet.
“Avanti… Avanti… Avanti… Avanti…”
Fleeing through the city’s darkened streets, Shukracharya and Indra looked up, startled, their expressions turning from panic to terror…
“Avanti… Avanti… Avanti… Avanti…”
The roar spread through Ujjayini, quick as wildfire, as the churails went screaming after the enemies of the kingdom, three avenging spirits on a quest to deliver fiery justice.
“Avanti… Avanti… Avanti…”
Vikramaditya pushed the door open to enter the palace. He felt astoundingly tired. He wanted to lie down… down… down… He slipped, but hands grabbed him, arresting his fall.
…down… down… down… His eyes closed.
“Vikrama.”
He opened his eyes.
He looked into a face that he had been dying to see since that night Atulyateja had given him the news. It seems she is asking for you, Samrat.
“Vikrama,” Vishakha whispered, smiling at him, her eyes filled with tears. “You came back.”
Vikramaditya realized he was lying on the floor, his head on Vishakha’s lap. He noticed the Acharya looking down at him, and he saw Dhanavantri appear and kneel by his side.
The samrat smiled up at the queen in contentment. He reached for her face, and she took hold of his hand, pressing it to her damp cheek. “You came back from the frontier,” she repeated.
Vikramaditya sighed.
“I would have come back from death’s door just to hear my name on your lips, my love.”
Epilogue
Vararuchi crouched behind the shield, low on one leg, the other extended forward, only his eyes showing above the shield’s rim, intent and watchful. His right hand, bent sharply at the elbow, clutched a katari, its point unwavering as he assessed his target. Springing nimbly into the air, the councilor jabbed the katari at his imaginary opponent, blocked a blow with his shield, executed a twirl and stabbed low a second time, before drawing back into a crouch, shield up against his chest.
The sun had yet to rise, and the light in the mud pit was still a dull grey as the councilor slowly stood up, sweat running off his lean, oiled torso. Flexing his shoulder muscles and wringing out a crick in his neck, he walked to a row of weapons laid to one side. Putting the katari down, his fingers flitted over an assortment of blades, deciding which to pick. Finally, the councilor selected a thin, long sword with a curved blade.
“Why not this one?” a voice called out.
Vararuchi turned to find Kalidasa standing by the entrance to the mud pit, scimitar in hand. As he walked into the enclosure, the giant held the sword out to Vararuchi.
“You wanted me to surrender this,” Kalidasa said, offering the hilt to Vararuchi. “I couldn’t at that time, because I still had battles left to fight. But now…” he motioned, urging the other councilor to take the scimitar.
The king’s brother gazed up at the giant, studying the hriiz on his forehead thoughtfully.
“This is the sword that stopped Indra’s charge into the palace,” he said. Placing a hand on the hilt, he pushed the blade away. “It is best left in the hands of the one who wielded it so effectively for Avanti.”
Kalidasa resisted for a moment, then nodded.
A lopsided smile touched Vararuchi’s lips as he considered the Huna. “I should never have doubted your loyalty to Vikrama. I am sorry.”
“No.” Sheathing the scimitar, Kalidasa took a step closer to the king’s brother and held him by the shoulders. “If there is room for an apology here, that apology must be mine. I did you grave injustice, but my objective behind all those accusations was not to—”
“I know, I know,” Vararuchi interrupted. “Vikrama told me everything. You don’t need to explain yourself or apologize. You acted keeping Avanti’s interests in mind; whatever you did was for Avanti’s good.”
“I almost made enemies out of brothers,” the giant’s hands dropped to his sides and he shook his head ruefully.
“Yet, it was the three of us who stood there two nights ago, fighting Indra and protecting the palace.” Vararuchi gave Kalidasa’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “Unbreakable is what we are.”
After a moment’s thought, the giant grinned and drew his sword. “Practice?” he asked.
“Sure.” Eyeing the scimitar, Vararuchi replaced his sword with a broader, heavier one.
Walking to the end of the mud pit, Vararuchi turned to face Kalidasa. The giant dropped to a combative crouch, but the king’s brother just stared at his opponent with a serious expression, the sword limp in his hand.
“I am sorry,” he said.
“For what?” Kalidasa frowned from the opposite end. Slowly, he drew himself erect.
“For what happened that afternoon in the garrison of Lava.” Vararuchi dropped his eyes. “Your father, your sister… your family.” He looked across at the giant. “It was war, but it was also wrong.”
Kalidasa stared at the other councilor for a long moment. The sun was showing through the branches of the trees that surrounded the mud pit.
“It was wrong, but it was war,” the giant said. “It was also a long time ago, and we must all move on.” He smiled. “I lost one family that day, but I found another here in Avanti. I have nothing to complain about.” He crouched and gripped his scimitar.
“Come, let’s practise.”
The king’s brother nodded. Taking two steps forward, they began circling each other.
***
“How do I even begin thanking all of you for coming to my kingdom’s aid?”
“You don’t, Samrat Vikramaditya,” said Kubera with a shake of his head. “Please don’t thank me, at least. I owed this to you after what my yaksha did to the queen. The regrettable part is that I sanctioned that attack without caring to understand Indra’s motive, or learning the least bit about you.” He hung his head in shame. “Nothing can make up for my stupidity, for which I am deeply apologetic, but helping you was a small attempt at putting things right.” He paused to look at the samrat gravely. “Knowing what the devas and the asuras wanted and seeing that they were prepared to go to any extreme to have their way, we yakshas decided to step in to assist you.”
Shalivahana, who lounged next to the yaksha, nodded. “I couldn’t agree more,” he croaked in his old, tired voice, his scarred face hardly betraying any emotion.
“Saving this city from the vyalas and Ahi was anything but small,” the king insisted.
“The vyalas, yes… But to be entirely honest, we had no part in stopping Ahi, though that was our intention when we left the city’s gates,” said Kubera.
Vikramaditya looked at the yaksha in confusion. “I don’t follow you. I thought—”
Kubera pulled a rueful grimace. “Before we could even get to Shukracharya’s sons, we came under Holika’s spell,” he said, going distinctly red in the face. “We were… rendered helpless. We recovered only after Holika had fled from battle, freeing us from the effects of her spell.”
“I heard about her spells,” the king said. “My councilors saw some horrible things... like dead people…” He looked enquiringly at Kubera.
“Something like that,” the yaksha mumbled and shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
“The Witch Queen’s powers are impressive,” Shalivahana agreed.
“It’s fortunate that none of those powers worked on you danavas,” the samrat smiled in relief. “Amara Simha tells me that it was your arrival that turned the tide of the battle our way. Who knows what course that battle might have taken—what course this whole campaign to protect the Halahala may have taken—had you not agreed to come to our support?”
“Your councilor, Shankubala, was quite persistent,” the danava’s moss beard cracked open in a small smile. “I’m glad we came, though, for I have the good fortune of getting to know not just you, but also Kubera, and…” he leaned to look at Khash’i Dur, seated to Kubera’s left, “…the brave chief of the Huna tribe. It is not every day that those who helped safeguard the Halahala get to sit all in one place. I am honoured to be here.”
