The Aryavarta Chronicles Kurukshetra: Book 3 (44 page)

Behind closed eyelids, Partha could sense the jewel-like flash in the sky. He longed to open his eyes, to gaze upon this wonderous sight even if it meant he would not see another thing again for as long as he lived. He dismissed the thought with long-inculcated discipline.
I am an archer. I am one with my arrow. It does not matter who colours the sky I fly in
.

He thought of what it was to shoot in the dark, to find meaning in the blackness just as others found meaning in colour and shape.
Look inwards. Then you will see that darkness and light are the same
. Partha drew in a deep, controlled breath and centred himself, honing his being into an instrument of action.

‘Now!’ Govinda called out.

Partha opened his eyes to find the sky infused with a silver glow, the first suggestion of the reappearance of light. Around them men stared at the sun, at the thin crescent of brilliance that emerged from the clutches of a dark moon. But Partha’s eyes sought and saw one target and one alone. Jayadrath.

‘I see him. Go. Straight ahead, go!’ he commanded Govinda, who complied with a flick of the reins that urged their horses ahead.

Shaibya reared and neighed, rallying his equine brethren into a charge, trading stealth for speed as the darkness began to fade. Partha did not care. He knew nothing could stop them now.

A shout went up from the enemy’s men. Syoddhan yelled orders with a fury. He moved to place himself squarely in Partha’s way. With a snarl of expectation, Partha aimed an arrow at Syoddhan’s heart, and then two more. All three shafts broke against the golden-white armour and fell, harmless, to the ground.

‘How…?’ Partha was stunned.

‘By Agni, he’s had the armour all along!’ Govinda exclaimed.

‘What?’ Partha was visibly confused.

‘Dron,’ Govinda explained. ‘He must have given Syoddhan this armour. It is supposed to be near-impenetrable, for it was made at the very beginning by the first of those who worked Wright-metal. If only we knew the secret of how it was wrought to such flexibility… What I would give to get a chance to see it up close, to see how it has been crafted to work…’

‘You can pry it off Syoddhan’s body once he’s dead,’ Partha declared, as he let off another flurry of arrows at the enemy. This time he aimed wide, trying to find some weak point in Syoddhan’s armour that he could get through. He followed up with a shaft to Syoddhan’s face, but all the other man did was to turn and let the arrow break on the side of his helmet, before raising his own bow to retaliate.

‘His horses,’ Govinda said, his voice strained. ‘Get his horses.’

Partha hesitated, knowing well how difficult it would have been for Govinda to contemplate such advice. But there was no choice. He did not argue, nor did he comment when Govinda looked away. Three more well-aimed arrows and the task was done. Govinda winced as a screeching neigh filled the air, the terrified voice of a horse in the throes of death. Swearing under his breath, Partha sent another arrow in the direction of the fallen steed, putting an end to the animal’s misery.

For a while Syoddhan remained on his rig, trying to use the elevation to counter Partha’s renewed attack, but the grounded vehicle was more of a risk than an advantage. He leapt off the rig, preparing himself for the worst.

‘For Dharma,’ Partha said, and raised his bow. He drew back the string, his fingers caressing the feathered tail of a sharp arrow, relishing what he believed would be the final moment of the war. He heard the twang of a bow, but started as he felt the sharp whip-sting of his string against his cheek and saw his arrow fall at his own feet. It took him a short while to realize that the bowstring had not snapped of its own accord; rather, it had been cut with immaculate precision.

A banner with the sign of a lion’s tail streamed in the wind, filling Syoddhan with relief, even as it informed Govinda and Partha of the arrival of a new attacker.

‘Not again!’ Govinda muttered as he turned their horses to face Asvattama. He need not have feared, at least not for his horses, for Asvattama was no less adept at finding his mark in the dark, and his target was clear. His next shaft sped straight at Govinda. Govinda dodged quickly, but the arrow still buried itself in his arm. He grit his teeth against the pain and held on to the reins, an effort that caused the wound to bleed profusely.

‘Govinda!’ Partha cried out. Turning his concern to rage, he quickly fixed a new string on to his bow and met Asvattama’s attack.

‘No!’ Govinda shouted. ‘Ignore him! Ignore him, Partha!’

For a moment, Partha did not understand. Then he turned his attention again to Syoddhan and realized that the other man was shouting out orders, yelling for Jayadrath to retreat.

Jayadrath!

He knew he did not have much time. Not only did Asvattama press his attack, but Partha could also sense the darkness around them thinning rapidly as the eclipse neared its end. As visibility returned, so would the enemy’s confidence. His advantage would be lost, and they would merely be a warrior and his horseman caught in the thick of enemy lines, hopelessly outnumbered.

‘Go on, Partha,’ Govinda said, this time without any trace of urgency.

Partha closed his eyes, focussing his mind on every sound around him: Syoddhan’s words that indicated that Jayadrath was moving to Asvattama’s assistance, the cadence of his horses’ hooves, and finally, the sound of Jayadrath’s voice answering Syoddhan. It was all he needed. Frowning in concentration, he fitted a wide, crescent-headed arrow to his bow. He pulled back the string and let the shaft fly. The arrow flashed high in the lightening sky, the silver-white metal striated with the reflection of the half-hidden sun and its shadow- moon before looping back down towards the earth and speeding past where he and Govinda were, barely an arm’s length away from them.

Govinda did not wait to see what happened next; he did not have to. Partha had never missed a target, and the splatter of warm blood Govinda felt on his cheek was just a solemn assurance. He heard the screams, the cries of woe as Syoddhan and the other commanders realized that the crescent-shaped arrowhead now bore a precious burden: Jayadrath’s severed head.

Before any of the commanders could think to mount a counterattack or resist their departure, Govinda began turning the horses around and urged them into a gallop. He and Partha were now weaving through the enemy’s men, the foot-soldiers clustered, aimless, too stunned at Jayadrath’s fall to offer resistance despite the quick return of the sun. Only when he saw Yuyudhana and Bhim and heard their jubilant voices shouting praise, did Govinda allow some slack on the reins.

They rode towards their camp loudly cheered on by their army, but Govinda did not stop till they were all the way in. He jumped off the rig, leaving the horses to a waiting Pradymna, and strode through the camp, oblivious to the celebration and conversation around him, searching. He found Panchali sitting quietly inside Abhimanyu’s tent, watching over Uttara as she slept, withered and curled up, on Abhimanyu’s bed.

Panchali looked up as Govinda entered. She took in his blood-splattered face, his dirt and sweat-stained body, his chafed, bleeding palms and the arrowhead still lodged in his arm, and then turned away. Govinda left the tent without a word. He knew Panchali needed a few moments alone to weep for Abhimanyu, for the son who had died and the dreams of a new Aryavarta that had died with him.

24

‘GOVINDA!’ DHARMA BURST INTO THE MEDICS’ TENT, WHERE
Partha was helping Govinda bind a poultice on to his rein-chafed, bleeding palms. Dhaumya was plying them both with a refreshing potion, as he warned Govinda that his palms would soon be covered with excruciating blisters if he took up the reins again without rest. ‘And,’ Dhaumya was saying, ‘do I have to remind you that you run the risk of losing your arm if you go on straining that shoulder?’

Govinda gestured to Shikandin, who was wrapping a linen bandage around his chest with Panchali’s help. ‘If he can be out there, so can I!’

‘What can I say, Govinda? I guess us Panchalas are just born tougher than you vagrant Yadus.’

‘Oi!’ Yuyudhana exclaimed. ‘There are enough vagrant Yadus out there for you to kill, Shikandin, don’t get a war started in here!’

‘Govinda!’ Dharma repeated, impatient that he did not have their attention as yet. He suddenly turned on Yuyudhana, ‘And you! What are you doing here? You’re not hurt, are you?’

‘No,’ Yuyudhana replied with narrowed eyes. ‘I’m just making sure that my friends won’t be either. Knowing these men, they’ll throw themselves out there the moment they are done here. Someone had better check their weapons, because they won’t, for sure!’

‘We are losing by the moment out there, and you are worried about your friends and their weapons?’

‘Swasti, Dharma,’ Govinda said, ‘The war isn’t over. We’re not dead. Not yet.’

‘We will be soon. You had all better get back into battle. Vasusena and Syoddhan are laying waste to anything that stands in their way. And Asvattama…well, he’s a man possessed. It’s nothing short of a massacre out there.’

‘I’ll take care of it,’ Shikandin stood up, waving at Govinda to sit back for a while longer.

‘Take Yuyudhana with you,’ Govinda instructed.

Partha said, apologetic, ‘It’s just some time to dusk – if you can hold them off, just long enough…’

‘No, Partha,’ Govinda interrupted even as Shikandin and Yuyudhana left. ‘Trust me, the battle won’t cease tonight.’

‘But…the rules…’ Dharma was aghast. ‘It was agreed that we stop fighting at sundown. That is the way wars have always been fought. How then…?’

Govinda said, ‘When will you realize that things have changed around us, Dharma? With Bhisma gone, this isn’t a family squabble anymore. After today, our enemy’s fury is for real. Your precious Dwaipayana and Suka are not in the habit of showing benevolence to those who defy them. This point marks the beginning of the end.’

‘Defy? Mine is the righteous stand, not Syoddhan’s.’

‘Tell that to Suka!’ Govinda shouted. ‘Tell that to all those who whisper in the Vyasa’s ear….’

‘…including your old friend, the Secret Keeper?’ Dharma did not raise his voice, but his tone did not lack anger as he said, ‘If my faith in the Firstborn was ill-placed, then so was your faith in….’

‘My faith has always been in people, Dharma,’ Govinda snapped. ‘My faith has been in humanity. That has not changed.’

He forced himself to simmer down as Dhaumya to put the last touches on his bandaged hand, and then stood up. ‘If Dron had meant for it to stop,’ he said, his voice even, ‘he would’ve given orders to retreat by now. He knows that they have an upper hand, despite Jayadrath’s death. Our…err…eccentric strategies have cost us much in terms of our defensive formations. Besides, his men are angry and feel deceived by what we have just done. He won’t let that fury go to waste, rules of war or no rules of war. He will push on through the night, and he will hit us as hard as he can. Only a miracle can save us now.’

Dharma bristled at the statement. ‘I thought you don’t believe in miracles, Govinda.’

‘I don’t. But then, nothing else will change your mind, will it?’

Dharma realized he had been cornered. ‘How did you…?’

‘I’ve noticed you and Bhim arguing for the past few days. What else could it be about?’

‘So you know this too? What Hidimbya and his men really are? What they are capable of?’

Govinda did not answer the question directly. Instead he said, ‘Before there were Aryas, before there were Firewrights and the Firstborn, who walked these lands, Dharma?’

‘I… I don’t understand. What do you mean?’

‘Exactly what I said. What was there before we noble kings and scholars came along with our ways of life?’

‘I suppose…heathens, uncivilized brutes, forest-dwellers…’

‘And how did we get here? Are we invaders from another part of the world? Or were we created by the gods and sent down from the heavens? Who are we?’

‘I don’t have time for your theatrics, Govinda. What is it that you’re trying to say?’

Panchali spoke up. ‘I think he means that what you describe as Wright-craft existed long before the Firewrights came along to harness and study such things. Hidimbya’s people are proof of that, just as Virat’s people are proof that knowledge survives with or without its keepers, even without Divine Order… Knowledge is its own force, Dharma, just as humanity is. What Hidimbya can do for us can change the course of this war. Don’t shun it just because the Firewrights claimed such craft as their own.’

Dharma glared at Panchali, but when she met his gaze with calm understanding he could not help but feel a little pacified.

Govinda’s voice intruded: ‘We are losing, Dharma. That is a fact that you know as well as I do. We may have killed Jayadrath, but it is a minor victory, a moral victory alone. The war goes on, and the enemy clearly has the upper hand. As we speak, Nakul is fighting Vasusena and is coming off the worse for it. Even you’ve had no choice but to retreat, beaten back by Kritavarman. We don’t even know where Dhrstyadymn is, and our formations have been broken through. Dhrupad, too, is missing. Bhim and Sadev are still out there fighting, but the rest of our soldiers huddle, desperate, in clusters that will sooner or later fall. The enemy has us on the brink of defeat and they know it. They will now fight to the end, fight to win. Please, for the sake of all those we have already lost; for Abhimanyu’s sake, please consider this option…’

Dharma did not reply but continued to look at Panchali, as though conversing with her in silence. He took a deep breath and said, ‘All right. But I want to know what exactly Hidimbya can do for us before I agree to let him and his men fight.’

Govinda said, ‘Fair enough. Send for him, Dharma. It is time you met him. Besides, he can tell you best what it is that he and his people can do for you.’

The prospect that Hidimbya and his men could turn the tide of the war brought a sense of hope back to all of them. Panchali found herself resuming conversation with the others, though banter was still a long way off. She came across Bhim while making her way to the Command Tent, where Hidimbya was to meet with Dharma.