The Guardians of the Halahala (20 page)

It looks like the human king is here to negotiate a settlement.

Dasra returned a cold smile of triumph, his eyes on the approaching entourage.

It looks more like a case of abject surrender, brother. He appears to have come to us in the company of women – perhaps he seeks to appease us with more than just the dagger.

When they were almost within hailing distance of the Ashvins, Vetala Bhatta reined in his horse briefly. Raising his hand, he signaled the escorts to hold their ground, before nudging his horse forward. Shanku, Kshapanaka and Dhanavantri followed suit.

But having taken barely a dozen paces, the raj-guru halted once again as the other three councilors drew abreast. The four councilors and the Ashvins appraised one another across the brightly lit plain, shadows stretching long on the ground as the sun made one last valiant attempt at overthrowing the day's murk. The stillness was broken only by the faint whistling of the wind, interspersed with the rasping shrieks of two mynahs foraging for food.

Seeing that the humans from Avanti were making no further effort at bridging the intervening gap, Nasatya reluctantly prodded his horse forward. Dasra fell into step beside his brother, and the twins drew closer to the councilors.

“I presume you are King Vikramaditya of Avanti,” Nasatya addressed the Acharya in a haughty tone.

“I'm afraid you presume wrongly, deva,” Vetala Bhatta replied with a thin smile.

Nasatya's brows furrowed in confusion, his eyes flitting between the faces of the councilors. “Then who are you?” he demanded.

“I am Vetala Bhatta, and these are Dhanavantri, Kshapanaka and Shanku,” the chief advisor pointed to his companions. “We are councilors to Samrat Vikramaditya.”

“And your samrat...?” Nasatya shifted his gaze first to the knot of escorts waiting behind the councilors, then toward the city gates, searching for evidence of a royal personage.

“He is not here. Our samrat has more pressing matters to attend to in his palace.”

The raj-guru had the pleasure of observing the incredulity that overcame Nasatya and Dasra's expressions. The Ashvin commanders had all along been expecting Vikramaditya to come rushing to them – instead, they were being told that the human king didn't deem them worthy of his time. The Acharya knew his gamble had paid off.

For a long moment, silence reigned as Nasatya scrambled to regain his composure.

“Have you brought us Veeshada's dagger?” he demanded gruffly, desperate to wrest the initiative back.

Vetala Bhatta considered the two devas for a moment before shaking his head. “I think we had made it quite clear to Narada that we do not intend parting with the dagger,” he said. “Where does the question of bringing it to you arise?”

“You refuse the Brotherhood of the Ashvins at your own peril,” Dasra scowled, his eyes shifting to the thin, long spear that the Acharya carried in his right hand. He felt there was something forbidding about the two skulls that decorated the weapon. He also noticed, for the first time, the shield that Shanku bore, and the rows of throwing knives that she wore around her narrow waist.

“We request you to leave us in peace, deva,” the Acharya answered in a civil tone. “But should the need arise, we are prepared to defend Avanti and the dagger to the last man.”

“It looks to me as if Avanti is already down to its last few men,” Nasatya chortled, casting a sidelong glance at his brother. “See who's here to defend Veeshada's dagger – not the king, who prefers to hide in his palace, but an old man, a fat man and... two
women.”

Vetala Bhatta sensed Shanku and Kshapanaka stiffening at the deva's mockery. But before either woman could respond to the barb, Dhanavantri spoke from the Acharya's right.

“Forget about our king for the moment... First test your competence against this fat man, this old man and these two women here.” The physician's voice was calm and cheerful, his face alight with amusement. “But whatever you do, make sure you don't get beaten by the women. That wouldn't make a very inspiring tale for the children growing up in Devaloka.”

Watching Nasatya and Dasra's faces harden as the taunt hit home, the raj-guru knew the die had been truly cast. As if to confirm this, Dasra's hand went to the hilt of the sword dangling at his waist.

“Let's settle this straightaway then,” he muttered darkly.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Acharya sensed the Ashvin cavalry ranged in the distance straighten on their saddles and reach for their scabbards.

“Don't do anything foolish, deva,” Vetala Bhatta raised a cautioning hand. “At the slightest sign of aggression, Avanti's archers will let fly their arrows.”

The Ashvin commanders raised their eyes to the top of Ujjayini's walls to see a long row of archers standing with their bows drawn, arrows pointing downward in their direction. Nasatya smiled inwardly in mild admiration, realizing that by holding his ground and refusing to come further into the plain, the old councilor had cleverly drawn him and Dasra into the archers' range.

Gesturing toward the ramparts, the raj-guru continued, “There are more than ten thousand soldiers behind Ujjayini's walls. I believe the five hundred horsemen you have with you will find them more than a match. So, for your own good, I urge you to return to Devaloka in peace.”

The sun chose that moment to slip behind the heavy clouds, and the dark pall of dusk fell over the plain. The Ashvin commanders sat on their mounts, mirthless lips sealed tight, glaring at Vetala Bhatta. Then, quite inexplicably, a cunning smile appeared on Nasatya's face, spreading slowly till it touched his eyes.

These humans know and suspect nothing, brothers... How about giving them a surprise?

The Acharya frowned, troubled by the same sly smile now playing on Dasra's lips. But before he could give it more thought, Nasatya addressed him.

“You will not part with the dagger and we will not leave without it – I can see only one way around this problem,” the deva shrugged, still smiling. Turning his horse around, he cast one final glance over his shoulder. “Councilors, prepare to defend your city from the wrath of the Brotherhood.”

With that, the Ashvin commanders rode back to their ranks in a thunder of hooves.

Siege

W
hat do you think they are doing, raj-guru?”

The question came from a senior captain of the City Watch, a short man with a neatly trimmed gray beard and a broken nose. The captain was in the company of Vetala Bhatta and Dhanavantri, who were standing on the walkway behind the battlements, looking out into the eastern plain. Light was failing rapidly over Ujjayini, and a fine powdery spray fell from above, gradually dampening their clothes and hair, adding to the discomfort.

“They don't seem to be doing anything,” perplexed, Vetala Bhatta shook his head, peering at the Ashvins gathered in the plain.

Three-quarters of an hour had passed since the verbal faceoff between the councilors and the Ashvin commanders. On returning to the safety of Ujjayini's walls, the Acharya and Dhanavantri had busied themselves with overseeing the defense of the eastern gate, while Kshapanaka had ridden off to secure the southern and western gates. Shanku had been tasked with strengthening the northern gate, besides leading an evacuation of the houses that spilled beyond the periphery of Ujjayini's northern wall – a natural expansion of a populous and prosperous city that was sprouting new urban localities.

The raj-guru and Dhanavantri had debated the prospect of leading a preemptive charge against the Ashvins, but had discarded the idea on seeing the night falling quickly around them. It was better to wait for the devas behind the security of the walls than risk losing lives in the darkness of the open plain, they concluded.

Strangely enough, in all the time that Ujjayini was being fortified against attack, the Ashvins themselves had displayed little inclination or enthusiasm for battle – Nasatya's dire warning notwithstanding. The deva force had just stood around as the day drew to a close around them, and from what the Acharya could make out, it looked as if the horsemen were waiting for something.

“It doesn't seem as if they are in any hurry to mount an attack,” said Dhanavantri, wiping the spray that had accumulated on his broad forehead. Turning to the raj-guru, he raised one eyebrow. “Do you think they are having second thoughts about attacking us? Maybe they've realized that they underestimated our strength...”

“No,” Vetala Bhatta shook his head with certainty. “They are waiting for someone or something. That much I'm sure of.”

Just then, a soldier clambered out of a narrow staircase that led up to the battlements from the streets and alleyways below. Stepping on to the walkway, the soldier approached the raj-guru and bowed. “We have the reports from the scouts, your honor,” he gasped, catching his breath.

The moment he had ascertained that the Ashvin cavalry was no greater than five hundred in number, Vetala Bhatta had ordered scouts to fan out in all eight directions to search for reinforcements. He was certain that even the devas weren't foolhardy enough to come to battle in such small numbers; he sensed that the Ashvins had split into smaller groups to escape detection and surround Ujjayini from all four sides. That the horsemen in the plain hadn't launched their attack so far only strengthened his belief.

“What do the scouts report?” he inquired.

“None of the scouts has reported the presence of any suspicious horsemen or troops anywhere within ten miles of Ujjayini,” the soldier said. “And there are no signs of any suspicious boats on either bank of the sacred Kshipra, your honor.”

The Acharya blinked in disbelief. “That can't be. They
must
have reinforcements.”

“All the reports are with the Scouts Master, your honor. All the reports are negative.”

Vetala Bhatta nodded. “You may leave.”

The raj-guru returned his gaze to the plain, his bushy gray eyebrows knitting together in a deep, unhappy frown.

“No reinforcements,” he muttered half to himself. “But how's that possible? There are so few of them...”

Dhanavantri and the captain of the City Watch watched the Ashvins, a clump of moving shadows in the surrounding gloom. It was becoming harder and harder to pick them in the twilight.

“That means they can't be waiting for something,” said the physician. “Unless it's darkness they're waiting for, so that they can slink away undetected like foxes...”

“That's it, Dhanavantri,” the Acharya insisted, a slight note of triumph in his voice. “That's
precisely
it. They are waiting for nightfall. They plan to attack under cover of darkness.”

“Five hundred horsemen against a fortified city with ten thousand defenders – not much of a plan,” scoffed the captain. “What tactical advantage could darkness give them?”

“I don't know,” replied the raj-guru, recalling the strange smile on the Ashvin commanders' faces just before they had parted on the plain. A wave of uneasiness swept over him, and suddenly he felt a lot less sure about defending Ujjayini.

***

The command center at Sristhali was moderately large in size and was situated on the western flank of the border town, nudging the foothills of the Arbuda Range. A rivulet, rarely ever in spate, formed a natural boundary between the command center and the main town, renowned all over Sindhuvarta for its marble craftsmanship.

Night having descended, the marble workshops of Sristhali had fallen silent, both artisans and apprentices back in the comfort of their homes. The last of the mule trains from the abundant marble quarries to the south had also returned, and the narrow streets were quickly emptying as the townsfolk wound down for the day.

It was just as well for Sristhali's diligent citizenry that the command center was some distance from the town – else, their repose would have been unduly disturbed by the fearful roar of Amara Simha's voice splitting the tranquil night air.

“Did or didn't the message say that I wanted the prisoner fit for interrogation?”

The voice came from a large, square building in the middle of the compound, an open window affording a view of Amara Simha, who stood scowling before a shamefaced officer of the Frontier Guard. In the background, Ghatakarpara and Governor Satyaveda stood quietly, watching the officer squirm and sweat under Amara Simha's glare.

“Yes, your honor,” the officer stammered. “But... the prisoner... But we thought...”

“But you thought
what,
Commander Dattaka?” Amara Simha thundered. “Why didn't your physician attend to the prisoner? Why wasn't something done to fix his broken leg, and why wasn't he administered some medication to reduce the pain?”

“He is a Huna, so we thought he didn't deserve any kindness, your honor,” the officer mumbled.

“Treating his leg had nothing to do with showing kindness, you fool,” the councilor smacked his forehead in frustration. “It was to keep him in a state where we could interrogate him.” Throwing his hands up in the air, he began pacing the floor, but within moments he was back in front of Dattaka.

“And to top it all, you tried beating information out of him. Is it a wonder that he's fallen unconscious? What in hell's name were you thinking?”

“We had the translator, so we thought... maybe we could get something out of him before you arrived, your honor,” Dattaka hung his head.

“Ah, you wanted to impress me with your efficiency when I walked in here.” The councilor folded his big hands across his broad chest. “Well, you have failed miserably in impressing me, commander. First you find some silly reason for not sending the prisoner to Udaypuri...”

“We don't have a wagon for escorting an injured prison...” Dattaka began protesting weakly, but Amara Simha raised a hand to stop him.

“No, I really don't have a problem with that, so let that be. But I have ridden long and hard to come here and question the Huna. Now if something happens to him because of your stupidity and he fails to regain consciousness... you will be in big,
big
trouble.”

“He'll be all right, your honor,” Dattaka assured, even though his voice didn't carry much conviction. Pointing to a small elderly man who stood in the shadows, he added, “Our physician says he will.”

Amara Simha turned to the man, who stepped into the circle of light. Everything about the physician's appearance pointed to a timid and careworn life, and the councilor intuitively softened his voice as he addressed the man.

“The prisoner will regain consciousness, won't he?”

“He should. I think he will,” the physician replied, although Amara Simha was discouraged by the slight shrug of the thin shoulders.

“And when can we expect him to return to consciousness?”

This time, even more dishearteningly, the shrug was more pronounced. “I can't say. Maybe in a few hours, maybe tomorrow...”

“I hope he's under observation.”

“Yes, yes... the guards have been given the strictest instructions, your honor.” Knowing that he had done at least one thing right, Dattaka leaped at the opportunity to salvage his reputation and rise in Amara Simha's esteem.

“Keep it that way,” the councilor said curtly. “And the moment he recovers consciousness, inform the kind physician and me. Understood? Now get someone to show us to our quarters. We've had a long day and would like to eat and retire for the night.”

***

Night had occupied Avanti's sky for nearly an hour when someone spotted the lights out in the plain.

Vetala Bhatta was busy issuing instructions to a group of archers when he heard a murmur spread along the wall, growing steadily in volume as word was passed between the soldiers. Turning around, he stared into the plain, his jaw dropping open in astonishment.

The darkness that had enveloped the plain just moments ago was now punctuated by hundreds and hundreds of pinpricks of phosphorescent light, winking eerily through the fine drizzle like silver-green fireflies. Though it was hard to be sure, to the Acharya's eyes the row of lights appeared to stretch for miles in both directions, following the natural curve of Ujjayini's walls like a flickering girdle of fire.

“What is this?” one of the archers by Vetala Bhatta's side whispered in awe.

“Take your places and be prepared,” the raj-guru barked in response. Whirling around, he was about to retrace his steps to the eastern gate when, almost magically, the lights began lifting into the air, their synchronized movement mimicking that of a fountain. A hush fell over the walkway as Avanti's defenders followed the flight of the lights with dazed eyes.

The lights soared, phantom-like, high over the plain... and then, almost imperceptibly, they changed direction and started their descent. Growing in size and sharpness with every passing second, they came arcing down toward Ujjayini's walls with great force, the air filling with an unmistakable rushing, whistling sound.

“Take cover,” the Acharya shouted at the top of his voice, hurling himself flat against the protective masonry of the ramparts. “They are fire arrows!”

In a matter of seconds the arrows rained down on the walkway and on both sides of the wall. The arrowheads exploded on impact, sending bursts of sizzling, phosphorescent sparks in all directions, the ember-hot particles searing bare flesh and setting fire to everything combustible.

The soldiers of the City Watch scrambled for cover, but the screams and shouts echoing along the walkway suggested that quite a few of them had been hit before they could take defensive positions. From the corner of his eye, the Acharya saw one soldier, his clothes on fire, flounder along the walkway before toppling helplessly over the edge and falling to his death. Inside the wall, a couple of the arrows had ignited a house, while another had set alight a wagon loaded with weapons from the armory.

“Quick, douse that fire,” somebody shouted from below, running toward the wagon. “We can't lose so many arrows and spears.”

A bout of panic swept along the wall as many soldiers broke cover and ran helter-skelter. The more strong-willed among them, however, crouched behind the parapet and drew their own bows. Vetala Bhatta cast a quick glance into the plain. Seeing that all was dark, he stood up and ran along the walkway, issuing a series of commands.

“Get back to your places. Keep your heads down and your bows ready. Shoot if you see the enemy making a charge for the gates.”

A semblance of order was restored as the Acharya's commands were relayed by officers of the City Watch. Down below, soldiers bearing swords and spears rushed to the city's eastern gate.

Vetala Bhatta had almost reached the gates when he saw a fresh row of lights blink in the plain. As the Ashvins launched the second wave of flaming arrows skyward, the raj-guru shouted down to the men inside the walls.

“Take cover. More arrows are coming.”

Ducking behind the parapet, the Acharya poked his head out – but instead of gazing up at the arrows, this time he focused his attention on the dark plain below. As the arrows climbed and reached the peak of their trajectory, for a fraction of a second the entire plain was bathed with their dim phosphorescence. And in that light Vetala Bhatta saw the plain teeming with an army of horsemen.