The Guardians of the Halahala (35 page)

Their superior's commands were finally heard over the din of battle, and the soldiers on the causeway began withdrawing to the safety of the palace. However, with resistance melting, the rakshasa gained ground even faster, quickly reducing the distance to the gates.

“Hurry, hurry,” Sadguna exhorted. “Quick, get behind the gates.”

As soldiers started tumbling back into the palace, Kshapanaka left the window and ran the length of the gallery that overlooked the gates. “Start closing the gates... fast,” she shouted at the men manning the heavy doors. “Don't allow that thing to enter the palace.”

A desperate scramble ensued on the causeway, with soldiers abandoning fight and running for protection before the gates closed them out. Behind them the demon stormed, swiping at their unprotected backs, cutting them to pieces. Varahamihira lost count of the number who fell to that terrible, jagged sword.

“Jump into the lake,” yelled Sadguna. The gates were closing rapidly, and it was plain that the last of the guards would never make it to safety in time. “Jump, jump...” The chief's voice rang with fatherly concern for his men.

Soldiers leaped into the water with loud splashes, and the causeway emptied. Inside the palace, more shoulders were thrown against the gates to get it to shut faster. Looking down from the gallery, Varahamihira observed the rakshasa slow down, as if assessing the next plan of action. Then, lowering its head, it charged down the causeway.

“Hurry up, hurry up... Shut the gates,
now!”
Varahamihira shouted his lungs out. “The asura is coming.”

He held his breath, watching the doors draw inexorably together...until, with a final heave, they shut to an echoing clang. In no time, the guards slid the heavy bolts into place.

Outside on the causeway, still some distance from the closed gate, the rakshasa drew to a halt.

Varahamihira exhaled deeply, as Kshapanaka's voice rang through the palace. “Archers, you have a clear target. Shoot your arrows.”

Missiles screamed down onto the causeway, but for all their fury they did a miserable job, barely leaving any scratches on the asura's bone armor. The beast, for its part, just stood its ground, glaring at the gate in oafish stubbornness.

Continuing to ignore the fusillade, the rakshasa raised one hand high above its head, as if holding aloft a large rock. Then, with a sudden downward jerk of the arm, it hurled whatever it was holding – something that was invisible to the eye – at the palace. All Varahamihira could make out was the slight warping and tunneling of the air, marking the passage of the speeding projectile...

The next instant, something bearing tremendous weight and force slammed into the gate with a resounding bang!

Varahamihira saw the gate rattle and sway, its metal surface bulging grotesquely under the impact. The guards and palace attendants who had been standing nearby staggered back and fell, as if knocked over by a horde of stampeding bulls.

A horrified hush overcame the gallery and the atrium below. Before anyone could recover their senses, the gate was buffeted by a second blow. This time the gate shuddered on its hinges, the bolts straining at their hoops and snapping loose. A bloodcurdling bellow rose from the causeway as the gates parted, the crack widening slowly to reveal the rakshasa standing on the threshold, sword in hand...

Pushing aside the broken gate, the beast crossed into the palace.

***

At the other extremity of the palace, hidden from all eyes, the horned head of a Marut silently broke the surface of the dark lake close to the palace walls.

Instead of moving immediately, the Marut drifted in the water for a while, surveying the edifice above, watching for movement in the windows and terraces, waiting to hear a shout which would suggest that it had been sighted. The sounds of the battle on the causeway were clearly audible to the rakshasa, while from across the lake, the prolonged roar of one of its brothers shook the night air.

Having established that the coast was clear, the Marut hauled itself out of the water and began scaling the palace wall. It pulled further and further up with surprising agility and surefootedness, using the narrowest of protrusions and toeholds for support. Finally, with the help of the thick vines that grew in profusion along that wall, the rakshasa hoisted itself onto an open, unguarded terrace.

Checking to see that it hadn't been detected, the Marut padded soundlessly toward a doorway that led into the palace, its right hand reaching to the back of its neck as it walked. The rakshasa's nails ripped into the dark blue skin of its nape, fingers digging deep into the flesh until the hand locked around something long and hard buried underneath. With a smooth, effortless tug, the Marut yanked the thing free of the surrounding flesh.

The light from a cluster of lamps mounted on a wall fell on the rakshasa as it crossed the terrace and entered the doorway. The light illuminated the object that the Marut had extracted from its back – a big, jagged, sharp sword. A sword built out of the Marut's own backbone!

Swinging the bone-sword in small arcs, the rakshasa walked down a passageway, picking up the vibes emanating from the Hellfires. Ever since they had descended upon Ujjayini, the Maruts had sensed the swords' vibes – they were, after all, the creation of their accursed mother Diti, washed by her blood and her breast milk. Now, with every step forward, the Marut detected the Hellfires' vibes grow stronger, pulsing in the ether around him.

The swords were very close. Which meant the human king would also be nearby.

The Marut turned a corner and took two steps before coming to a halt. The Hellfires were behind one of the two doors down the passageway – but there was someone guarding the passageway. A large, strongly built human with a dark face, his hair swept back into a high ponytail. He carried a heavy scimitar in one hand and a big bronze shield in the other.

Their eyes locked.

The rakshasa watched as the human threw his chest out and drew himself to his full height, shield held ready to block an attack, scimitar rock-steady and poised to strike. The human's bearing held the promise of a good fight, which gladdened the rakshasa. Nothing nourished the bone-swords like the blood of brave warriors...

With mounting anticipation, the Marut gripped the bone-sword in both hands and took a step toward the human. The man responded by taking two forward.

Drawing close, they slowly began circling one another.

***

Once the boat had been docked and they had entered Ujjayini, it had been easy enough for Shukracharya to give Vararuchi and the soldiers of the City Watch the slip. Stopping the carnage being uppermost in Vararuchi's mind, the councilor had quickly rallied his men and ridden off, hardly sparing a second glance at the head priest.

Shukracharya now squatted on his haunches in a deserted back alley in the western quarter of the city, his back hunched as he wrestled with ideas to counter the Maruts – while testing the strength of a nifty new plan that had begun formulating in his head. Before him, drawn on the mud of a shop's darkened courtyard, was a
mandala
more complex than any he had had occasion to draw in Avanti.

He had weighed his options, and it was evident that whatever he did, the outcome wouldn't be favorable to the humans. With their superlative strength and magical powers, victory for the Maruts was inevitable. He could, of course, try and change the course of the battle by intervening directly, but he wasn't certain even that would succeed. Moreover, that meant drawing attention to himself, exposing his true identity to the human king and alerting the devas to his presence in Avanti. The head priest wasn't sure if he wanted to take that risk. Not when he wasn't assured of getting the dagger in return.

Yet, he knew that unless he acted quickly, Diti's sons would prevail and the Halahala might be lost forever.

A sudden change in the direction of the wind bore the tumult of battle to Shukracharya's ears with renewed vigor, nudging him into a decision. There was only one route left open. He had to help the humans tackle the Maruts. Not so they could defeat them – that would have been fanciful thinking. But helping them to the extent of prolonging the battle long enough for him to take advantage of the prevailing chaos, slip into the palace... and seek Veeshada's dagger out for himself.

Pinning his hopes on this slender prospect, Shukracharya lowered himself to the ground, crossed his legs and closed his eyes. He would start by making the humans more resistant to the attack, more hardy, more resilient. He would help them regain lost strength and nerve, so they could fight and frustrate Diti's sons longer. His hands hovering over the
mandala,
the head priest began invoking the Dasa-Mahavidyas.

He then began casting the Regeneration Spell over the human population of Ujjayini.

Ghoulmaster

I
ndeed, I remember everything you have just told me about the dagger and why you have brought it to me.”

The Betaal stood in front of Vikramaditya, its flaming head throwing flickering shadows around the bare chamber. It had listened to the king's narrative in silence, without interruption, and although its skeletal face was inscrutable, Vikramaditya detected a trace of melancholy – even resignation – in the Ghoulmaster's voice.

“Will you accept my request to keep the dagger in your protection?”

For a long while, the Betaal remained silent. When it finally spoke, its tone was kind, reassuring and full of gratitude.

“I also remember a promise that I had made a long time ago, wise king,” it said. “A promise to be of assistance to you should the need ever arise. Now that you have come to me with so much hope, how could I let you return disappointed? I owe my existence to you, Samrat Vikramaditya. I shall gladly take charge of safekeeping the Halahala.”

The king smiled as he felt a burden lift from his shoulders. Reaching into his belt, he withdrew the dagger and extended it toward the Ghoulmaster. As the dagger changed hands, the samrat thought he saw the iridescence in its hilt wink at him wickedly.

“I shall not remind you to be careful with it. You already know about the promise I have made to the Omniscient One. I trust you to help me honor my word.”

“I am as ancient as the Ancient Gods,” the Betaal replied, cradling the dagger in its hands. “If one of them has entrusted you with this, it would be an honor to be of service to you.”

“But do remember that I didn't bring the dagger to the Borderworld to transfer its responsibility to you,” Vikramaditya reminded. “The responsibility of the Halahala will continue to be mine and mine alone. The devas and asuras believe the dagger is with me, and I will never give them a reason to assume otherwise. You have my word that those who covet the Halahala will never disturb the peace of the Borderworld for that dagger.”

“I have never doubted your word or your fairness, wise king,” the Ghoulmaster replied. “Now go in peace.”

The samrat bowed his head in appreciation and turned to depart. The Betaal followed him. But just as they neared the edge of the chamber where the curtain of roots came into view, the king paused and considered the Ghoulmaster.

“You knew about my coming, you knew about the dagger and of my request. Did you also know that you would accept the Halahala?”

“I did, when I remembered that I had already agreed to keep it for you.”

“You know everything that has already happened. Don't you know how all this ends?”

The Betaal lingered thoughtfully for a moment before shaking its head. “I see what you mean,” it said. “Everything in Borderworld has already occurred – it is, in a way, the future of all the other three worlds. But no, unfortunately I remember things only as they happen – the way you humans sometimes remember having seen or experienced a situation before, even though what you've remembered has just occurred in front of your eyes. You know what I speak of... like a fragment of a forgotten dream unfolding and coming to life?”

Vikramaditya nodded in understanding.

“For me, every moment is like that,” said the Ghoulmaster. “Everything I see and hear and say and do, I have seen happen before. It's like living the same reality over and over again. It can be very disconcerting at times. Farewell, wise king.”

The samrat nodded again and stepped forward as the roots parted way again.

***

Shanku couldn't tell if it was the pounding of her horse's hooves or her yelling that took effect, but the beast she was pursuing finally stopped and turned. It was the moment she was waiting for.

Bracing herself, she flung the
chakram
into the air. The ring arced far to the demon's left, whispering softly, nothing in its trajectory indicating it would venture anywhere near the rakshasa... But at the last moment, the
chakram
changed direction, dipping and scything viciously toward the beast's head. Yet, when the ring was just a few feet from its target, the rakshasa ducked, and the ring sailed harmlessly away into the night.

Shanku cursed. The
chakram
was one of the most deceptive of weapons, almost impossible to read. However, this asura had evaded it with utmost casualness. Plucking another
chakram
out, Shanku hurled it at the beast. But her frustration impaired her judgment and the ring went straight at the demon's chest, hitting and bouncing off the thick exoskeleton.

The councilor was reaching for a third ring when the rakshasa broke in to a hurtling run – and came straight at her.

Shanku had been warned that these beasts were fast, but again there was a gap between what she had mentally prepared for and the reality of what she saw.

The demon leaped and bounded down the street, narrowing the distance at an incredible pace. Shanku could feel the ground shake every time the beast's foot landed on the earth, looming closer and closer, its quicksilver eyes holding her own. She heard the horsemen behind her shouting and urging, but she was utterly mesmerized by the sight of the demon bearing down on her.

“Run, councilor... Please run!”

The voice of one of the soldiers finally invaded Shanku's mind, snapping her back to her senses. She wheeled her horse around frantically and urged it into a gallop. Before her, the horsemen of the City Watch were already scattering, tearing down the street in search of exits that would deliver them from the menace. From behind, she heard the stomping of the rakshasa's feet and the guttural growl emanating from its throat.

Then something heavy – it felt like a broad beam to Shanku, or perhaps a large sack loaded with stones – slammed into her mount.

Neighing in agony, the horse reeled and buckled under her, its hind legs swept from underneath by whatever had struck it. The acrid smell of burning hair and flesh rose to Shanku's nostrils as she toppled backwards and fell off the saddle. Her horse, hind legs and rump scorched to the bone, keeled over to one side, never to rise.

Shanku hit the wet ground flat on her back. For a moment she lay in a daze. Then, as her eyes swam into focus, she saw the demon's face upside-down, bending over her, its eyes burning silver-white, lips pulled back in a vicious snarl of rage.

Gnashing its teeth, the asura raised its right foot high over Shanku's head and brought it down on her with unbridled violence.

***

A crushing wave of dismay washed over Vararuchi as he crouched on the rooftop. He had sprinted around the market square as fast as he could, climbing up to the rooftop without pausing to catch his breath, yet looking down into the square, he could see the rakshasa moving further and further away from him. The few remaining soldiers and
samsaptakas
had withdrawn to a safe distance and appeared in no mood to engage the beast. It was clear that the asura had lost interest in the market and was preparing to spread its havoc in some other part of the city.

I can't let that thing get away!

Vararuchi made a quick assessment of the distance between the rooftop and the beast. It was a yawning gulf, too wide for him to bridge in one leap. And with every passing moment, the gap was widening. It wasn't humanly possible...

I can't let that thing get away!

Gripping the
katari
tightly in his hand, Vararuchi stood up. Taking five steps back to get some momentum, he ran to the edge of the roof and flung himself toward the rakshasa.

Below him, the market which lay in shambles passed by in a rush of air. He observed a couple of soldiers of the City Watch look up at him, their mouths falling open in amazement. He saw the demon's broad back – and he saw the demon swivel its horned head around as if sensing danger. And then he began his descent.

For all his determination, Vararuchi had expected to fall well short of the rakshasa and hit the ground in a jarring, bone-crushing fall. But as he drew closer and closer to the giant, he realized that he had somehow made a perfect leap.

He would land on the asura's back, as planned.

The impact of their bodies made a heavy, cracking sound that slapped against the walls of the buildings lining the square. Vararuchi felt pain shoot through his limbs as his body came into contact with the demon's shell-like armor. Ignoring the pain, he locked his left arm around the beast's neck and hung onto its back. With all his might, he choked the rakshasa with his forearm, pushing its head upward and back. Then, quick as lightning, he raised the
katari
and plunged it into the right side of the beast's exposed neck, pushing and skewering deeper until the short blade was buried up to the hilt.

The rakshasa let out an agonized roar and spun its body around. The sudden move loosened Vararuchi's grip, and he slipped to the ground, yanking the
katari
free as he went down. The councilor fell between the powerful legs of the asura, but he instantly twisted and scrambled out of harm's way. Wheeling around, he prepared to face the wrath of the beast.

But the asura just stood in the middle of the square clutching the right side of its neck, its fingers pressed into the deep, ragged gash left by the
katari.
Vararuchi could see a thick, silvery liquid gush and spurt from between its fingers, the liquid the same color as the beast's eyes.

The soldiers in the square stared wide-eyed as the demon swayed uncertainly for a few moments. It then turned its head to look at Vararuchi with eyes that were losing their luster and growing dark and smoky. The councilor was preparing to make an evasive move when a bolt of lightning streaked down from the heavens and hit the rakshasa.

The men in the square flinched, half expecting to be annihilated by the blinding bolt. But as the crack of thunder exploded around them and rolled over the city, they saw that they were mistaken. Miraculously enough, none of them had come to any harm.

They also realized they were alone. There was no sign of the four-horned asura that had terrorized the square.

***

At the palace gates, there was complete pandemonium.

The asura waded into the defenders, slashing left and right, dismembering guards who were now fleeing in panic. Archers rained arrows down from the galleries above, but the beast kept advancing, the arrows snapping like twigs on its bone armor. The rakshasa loosened two bolts of energy into the galleries to good effect – the sight of a dozen of their mates shrivel and burn took the resistance out of the archers, and the arrows dried up. In a matter of moments, the demon had crossed the atrium of the palace and was making its way toward a stairway leading to the floors and galleries above.

Sensing a rout and desperate to rally the defense, the chief of the Palace Guards sprang at the beast, trying to block its path.

“Surround the thing, men,” he shouted, slashing at the asura. “The fight isn't over yet. We can still get it...”

One foot on the lowermost stair, the rakshasa spun around to face the challenge from Sadguna. Four guards responded to their commander's call – but all four were slow in reacting. With an effortless swipe of its sword, the demon first disarmed the old warrior. Then, as the chief stood petrified and weaponless, the cruel beast struck again, decapitating him.

Shock and outrage boiled over Kshapanaka at the sight of the old, faithful soldier's head rolling across the atrium, a wheezing scream escaping those lifeless lips. Nocking another arrow into her bow, she ran through one of the galleries, her mind clamoring for revenge. But beneath the anger and the lust to settle scores, a sane part of her mind reminded her of the more pressing task: stopping the beast from coming upstairs.

Rounding the head of the stairway, Kshapanaka saw the asura come tearing up the steps, its eyes on her, its bloodied sword waving drunkenly in the air. The councilor wondered if she should swap her bow with her sword – she had already emptied many quivers on the beast to no avail. On the other hand a sword would... She promptly abandoned the idea. Her short sword would be no match for the demon's giant one, she realized.

She also thought she heard a voice instructing her to use an arrow.

Drawing the bowstring back, Kshapanaka let the arrow fly at the rakshasa's head. The shot had been aimed straight between the eyes, but the beast had been expecting it. Raising its left arm, it blocked and deflected the arrow's flight. The arrow just grazed the exoskeleton.

Kshapanaka felt the anxiety and fear well up inside her. At any moment now, the beast would be upon her. There was no time to nock a fresh arrow into her bow. There was no place to run. This was the end.

But to her surprise, the rakshasa had come to an abrupt halt on the stairway. She was within striking distance of the demon's fiendish sword, but instead of attacking her, the asura was staring down at its left forearm in what looked like puzzlement.