The Guardians of the Halahala (26 page)

“You heard Nasatya and Dasra describing them, lord,” replied Brihaspati. “The flaming whips, the malevolent
churails ...
They can be nothing but Diti's thoughtless creations.”

As Indra subsided into a grim silence, a lilting voice, clear as tinkling glass and fresh as the dewdrops on lotus buds, broke the silence.

“What are these Hellfires and why do they worry our lordship so much, gurudev?”

All those present turned to the far recesses of the hallway, where Urvashi graced a broad teakwood swing. The apsara was draped delectably across the swing, its gentle to-and-fro motion making the light and shadow fall alternately on her shapely form, accentuating the curve of her hips, and highlighting the softness of her waist and her generous breasts. The devas' flagging spirits lifted by just watching her, as she considered them with a provocative tilt of the head.

Seeing that she had everyone's undivided attention, Urvashi swung her long legs off the swing and stood up. Walking to the accompaniment of dainty bronze anklets, she approached the group, her deep black eyes on Brihaspati. Despite the seductive sway of her hips, her expression was one of earnest curiosity.

“The Hellfires,” Brihaspati sighed, as if not knowing where to begin. “They were... they
are
a pair of magical swords that the sorceress Diti, second wife of Sage Kashyapa, fashioned for her oldest sons, the asura lords Hiranyakashipu and Hiranyaksha. Bathed by her blood and the milk of her breast, infused with the most terrible of mantras, and fanned and tempered by the fires of Naraka, the Hellfires are possessed by the spirits of fiery
churails.
He who wields the swords can unleash these
churails
of Naraka to tame the mightiest of armies.”

“And the purpose of these swords was to help Hiranyakashipu and Hiranyaksha in their campaigns against us devas, I presume?” asked Urvashi.

“Indeed,” said Narada, leaping into the conversation, eager to have a share of the beautiful apsara's attention. “Diti meant the Hellfires to be the most potent weapons in the asura arsenal. Her intention was to annihilate us with the swords.”

Urvashi's eyes grew wide with fear, but it was mostly for effect, in keeping with the dramatic moment. Deep inside, there was rapt, childlike excitement and anticipation about the unfolding narrative.

“And Diti would have succeeded in her scheme – had it not been for that one mistake of hers,” Brihaspati reclaimed the thread of the narrative. It almost appeared as if he and Narada were openly vying for the right to tell Urvashi the story. “She took the swords to her husband to have them blessed by him as well.”

“Of course, Sage Kashyapa, in his infinite wisdom, instantly saw the threat that the Hellfires posed to righteousness,” Narada once again elbowed his way in. “But he also knew he had to keep Diti happy. So, with great ingenuity, he blessed the swords – commanding them to obey nothing but the will of the most virtuous of warriors.”

“You're saying that with his blessing, the sage rendered the Hellfires ineffective in the hands of the cruel Hiranyakashipu and Hiranyaksha?” Urvashi looked at Narada, her eyes wide with admiration. “A true masterstroke!”

“Not just Hiranyakashipu and Hiranyaksha,” Narada chuckled, enjoying the attention the apsara was lavishing on him. “The swords were useless in the hands of every asura except Diti's youngest son, the noble Paurava. That, of course, was never a concern for us as Paurava led the life of a harmless ascetic, caring nothing for war and asura glory. So thanks to Sage Kashyapa's presence of mind, the power of the Hellfires had been blunted.”

Urvashi considered this for a moment. “If the swords are so potent, how come we devas never tried to get our hands on them?” She studied the faces around her one by one, her own face a picture of doe-like innocence. “Wouldn't they have been priceless in our battle against the asuras?”

The assembled devas shuffled their feet and glanced at one another out of the corners of their eyes. Neither Brihaspati nor Narada, who until now had been so eager to engage the apsara in conversation, opened their mouths. Even Indra, who had been hanging back and observing the goings-on in surly silence, quickly resumed pacing the floor to avoid answering the apsara.

“It would have been supremely ironical to have used the Hellfires against the asuras, and I hear we did try, didn't we, father?”

The speaker was a young deva, fair and of medium build, who had entered the hallway unnoticed. He had a prominent, hooked nose, but his cheeks hadn't lost their adolescent softness, and his lips were pink, fleshy and feminine. His eyes, however, were peevish and challenging as they appraised the lord of the devas. This was Jayanta, first-born son of Indra of his lawfully wedded wife, Shachi.

The king cast a reproachful glance at his son, but didn't reply.

“I'm sure we tried, isn't it, gurudev?” Jayanta turned to Brihaspati with a slight smirk.

“Yes,” said the chamberlain, clearing his throat reluctantly. “Unfortunately, the swords didn't... had stopped being responsive. Probably they had dulled with age and lack of use.”

“Yet, after all these years, they seem to have responded admirably to the will of the human king,” Jayanta remarked with a facetious grin.

Urvashi's eyes flickered over the prince's smug face before returning to the sage, who looked distinctly ill at ease with the turn the conversation had taken. “Do we know how the human king came to possess the swords, gurudev?”

“I'm afraid not,” Brihaspati replied, his manner stilted. “We had lost interest in the Hellfires a long time ago, so we never kept track of them.”

“Nor does it matter,” snapped Indra, stopping in his stride. He hadn't liked the tone of Jayanta's needling, and he liked the hint of awe in Urvashi's voice, as she spoke of the human king, even less. “Too much is being made of these swords; too much has
always
been made of them. We must concern ourselves with retrieving Veeshada's dagger instead. That's all that matters.”

“Let me lead an army to Sindhuvarta,” said Jayanta promptly, a swagger in his voice. “I shall show the human king his place and return with the Halahala – and the Hellfires.”

An awkward silence prevailed in the hallway in the wake of the prince's words. As the others held their breaths, Indra gave his son a withering look.

“This is no job for a callow boy,” he said. Without pausing for a response, he clapped his hands loudly. Immediately, a large garuda appeared at a doorway and made its way to the center of the hall.

“Yes, mighty king?” the garuda said, bowing respectfully.

“Send word to the Maruts,” ordered Indra. “Let them know that I have summoned them to the palace.”

The garuda bowed and straightened. “As you wish, my king... But the Maruts are not in Devaloka at the moment. They are...”

“I don't care where they are. Find them and have them sent to me.”

Before anything more could be said, the lord of the devas stalked out of the hall without ceremony. The garuda watched the retreating figure for a moment before withdrawing quietly. Narada, Brihaspati and a couple of other devas exchanged unsure glances, and slowly the group broke up, everyone finding some excuse or the other to make what under the circumstances could pass off as a graceful exit.

Eventually, only Urvashi and Jayanta were left standing in the hall.

The apsara slowly approached the young prince, who stood with drooping shoulders, a resentful expression on his face. Coming very close, she raised her hand and traced a finger down his left cheek.

“Boy,” she whispered, pouting and tut-tutting coquettishly. “My lordship called you a
boy.”

Jayanta, whose lips were quivering with hurt, snapped his head back and grabbed Urvashi's wrist. “I am not a boy and I can show you that - if only you'd let me,” he hissed fiercely.

The apsara struggled to free herself, but Jayanta gripped her hand tight and pulled her close. The swell of her breast pressed against his arm, the intoxicating scent of her hair filling his senses. He could feel the warm breath escaping from her luscious, half-open lips, inches away from his own.

“You know I love you, Urvashi,” he said, his breath ragged. “And I know you can't resist thinking of me, even when you're in father's bed. So why do you deny the love that is rightfully ours?”

“I'm mistress to the mighty lord of the devas,” Urvashi murmured. “What makes you think I would fancy you, callow boy?”

“I can see the desire in your eyes. The way you look at me... the way you are looking at me right now. You are drawn to me, you want me.”

The apsara stared deep into Jayanta's eyes and the prince felt her melting in his arms. Then all of a sudden, Urvashi twisted and pulled and slipped from his grasp. As Jayanta stared at her in dismay, she shook a finger at him playfully, her agile face alight with a teasing smile.

“Don't let my lordship ever catch you like this with me,” she giggled. “You know he is very jealous and possessive about me. The consequences could be severe for you.”

With that she turned around and departed, leaving Jayanta with an empty, bitter ache in his chest. And an unfulfilled longing in his loins.

***

“Can we believe what the scout has told us?” Ghatakarpara eyed Amara Simha, who sat chewing his lower lip.

“There's no reason not to. He's scared out of his wits. Given his state, it would be hard for him to conceal anything out of fear of ending up short of a head.”

“Using the dead scout was a very clever ploy to open him up, your honor,” marveled Dattaka, in whose room the two councilors now sat. “We had him singing without even laying a finger on him.”

“More than threats and torture, proof of death is an effective method of extracting the truth,” said Amara Simha. “A ruthless killing tells your hostage that human life is entirely dispensable to you. And when done right, it also plants the idea that you may not put enough premium on the information he possesses to spare his life. I use the tactic whenever there's a dead body handy.”

For a while, the three men mulled over what they had learned from their hostage.

“A force of approximately twenty thousand Hunas is stationed in the Great Desert, four days' ride from the frontier,” Ghatakarpara cocked an eyebrow at his companions. “That's not very far, especially if they choose to ride hard.”

“But the scout also said that they have been encamped for over two months, and that there have been no indications of moving the troops closer to the Arbudas,” Dattaka pointed out. “If they plan to attack, they'll have to establish bases a lot closer to the frontier; a four-day ride in the desert heat will leave anyone exhausted and incapable of fighting. To me, the camp the scout spoke of looks more like a node for coordinating movements and setting up supply chains.” “You're probably right,” agreed Amara Simha. “Also, twenty thousand troops is too insufficient a number to stage a full-fledged invasion into enemy territory. They'll need three or four times as many if they want to come deep into Sindhuvarta and hold captured ground – which I believe is the Hunas' intent.”

Dattaka gave an emphatic nod. “Moreover, if you remember, the scout let it slip that troops seem to be in short supply, as soldiers are being diverted to shore up a planned assault on the Anartas. So, while we must be on our toes, I'd rule out an immediate threat here.”

A brief, contemplative silence was broken by Ghatakarpara.

“Do you do think the scout was being truthful about the Hunas' plan to attack the Anarta Federation by sea?” Seeing an indecisive furrow on Amara Simha's brow, the prince said, “They've never attempted anything like this before. The Hunas and Sakas aren't seafaring people, and they've never had a navy to speak of.”

“That doesn't mean they aren't planning to do it,” the big man answered. “Over the last ten years, they may have acquired the technology to build large boats and the skill to navigate them. And it's logical – an attack from the sea is the only way the Hunas can gain quick access to the fertile hinterland and rich trading centers of the five Anarta city states.”

“It is also the quickest way of crippling the kingdoms of Sindhuvarta economically,” added Dattaka. “The Anarta Federation has always been relatively safe from the Hunas and Sakas, giving us and our other allies significant strategic and financial depth. But if the Anarta states were to fall to the Hunas, our trade routes to the west through the ports of Dvarka and Bhrigukaksha would get blocked. Supply of essential raw materials would stop, while earnings from exports would be hit, adding to the strain on the royal exchequer.”

Amara Simha stared at the commander with newfound respect. But for the stupidity that had resulted in the death of the first scout, Dattaka had displayed great efficiency, and now from his words, it seemed his analytical skills were considerable.

“Absolutely right, commander,” said Amara Simha, sitting up in his chair. “I'm now beginning to see why the Hunas attacked our outpost and delivered that threat through the captain of the Guards. It's not like them to issue warnings before an attack, and that's been bothering me. It was a decoy to draw all our attention to the frontier, so they could spring a surprise naval attack on the Anarta states. By the time we redeployed, the Anartas would have been taken. Look at it – they alert us saying they are coming, but there are just twenty thousand Hunas out on the Marusthali. See, everything falls perfectly into place!”

Spurred by his thoughts, the burly councilor leaped up from his seat. “Yugandhara and the other Anarta chiefs need to be told about this threat immediately, so that they can take necessary precautions.” He peered out of the window at the gathering dusk and gave a rueful snort. “The sun's already set – too late to use the
suryayantra
now. But the news must be relayed to Ujjayini as soon as the sun is up tomorrow morning, commander. Without fail. Make sure the operators send...”