The Oath of The Vayuputras (65 page)
‘Stop her!’ yelled Daksha. ‘Guards! Stop her!’
The doorman opened the door, stunned to see the princess sprinting towards him. The guards at the door were immobilised by shock.
‘Stop her!’ bellowed Daksha.
Before the guards could react, Sati crashed into them, pushed them aside and burst through the door. She raced down the main corridor. She could still hear her father screaming repeatedly for his guards to stop her. She had to get to her horse. No one else was in possession of one in Devagiri at this time. Were she able to do so, she could easily speed past all the guards and ride out of the city.
‘Stop the Princess!’ screamed a guard from behind.
Sati saw a platoon of guards taking position up ahead. They held their spears out, blocking the way. She looked behind her without slowing down. Another platoon of soldiers was running towards her from the other end. She was trapped.
Lord Ram, give me strength!
Sati heard Daksha’s distant voice. ‘Don’t hurt her!’
A window to the left was open, up ahead. She was on the third floor. It would be foolish to jump. But she knew this palace well; it had been home. She knew that there was a thin ledge above the window. A short jump from there would land her on the palace terrace. Thereafter, she could race away from a side entrance towards the palace gate before anyone would be able to reach her.
Sati sheathed her sword and raised her hands, as if in surrender. The soldiers thought they had her and moved forward, slowing their gait so as to calm the princess’ nerves. Sati suddenly jumped to her side, and was out of the window in a flash. The soldiers gasped, thinking the princess had fallen to a certain death into the courtyard below. But Sati had stretched her hands out simultaneously and used the momentum to jump up, grab the edge of the protruding ledge, swing upwards, and then land safely on top of the ledge in a half-flip. She took a moment to balance herself. She then took a couple of quick steps and leapt onto the terrace.
‘She’s on the terrace!’ screamed a soldier.
Sati knew the path the soldiers would take. She quickly ran the other way, towards the far end of the terrace, jumping onto another ledge. She crept along the ledge till she reached another terrace, leapt onto it and sprinted towards the staircase on the far side. She charged down the stairs, three steps at a time, till she reached the landing above the first floor, which led to a side entrance. While this entrance was usually not guarded, she didn’t want to take a chance. She leapt out of the balcony into the small garden at the side. There was a tree right next to the wall. She clambered onto the tree, reached its highest branch and used the elevation to jump over the boundary wall. She landed right next to her horse. In one leap, she mounted her horse, freed its reins and kicked the animal into motion.
‘There she is!’ shouted a guard.
Twenty guards rushed towards Sati, but she pushed through, refusing to slow down. Her horse galloped out of the palace enclosure and within seconds she was out into the city. She could hear the distant shouts of the guards screaming and swearing behind her.
‘Stop her!’
‘Stop the Princess!’
Startled Meluhans scrambled out of the way to escape the flaying hooves of Sati’s steed. She turned into a small lane to avoid a big crowd of citizens up ahead, and came out of a different access road which led straight to the city’s main gates. She rode hard, pushing her horse to its limit and was through the iron gates in no time. As soon as she crossed to the other side, her horse reared ferociously onto its hind legs, disturbed by loud noises of battle in the distance.
From the vantage point of the Devagiri city platform, Sati had a clear view of the venue of the peace conference, right next to the Saraswati, nearly four kilometres away. Her people were under attack. A large number of cloaked and hooded men were battling Nandi and his vastly outnumbered soldiers, many of whom already lay on the ground.
‘Hyaaah!’ Sati kicked her horse hard, goading it into a swift gallop.
She raced down the central steps of the Svarna platform of Devagiri, straight towards the battling men, screaming the war cry of those loyal to the Neelkanth.
‘Har Har Mahadev!’
As she sped towards the battleground, Sati could estimate that there were almost three hundred cloaked assassins. They wore masks, just like the Nagas. But their battle style was nothing like the warriors from Panchavati. They were obviously some other group, being made to look like the Nagas. Nearly half of Sati’s one hundred bodyguards were already on the ground, either grievously injured or dead.
Since the assassins and her soldiers were completely locked in combat, there was no clear line of enemies whom she could ride her horse into and mow down. She knew she’d have to dismount and fight. As she neared the battle scene, she rode towards the area where Nandi was combating three assassins simultaneously.
She heard Nandi’s loud scream as he brutally drove his sword into his enemy’s heart. He turned to his left, easily lifted the diminutive assassin impaled on his sword, and flung the hapless soul’s body onto an oncoming attacker. Another assassin had moved up to Nandi, ready to slash him from behind.
Sati pulled her feet out of the stirrups, jumped up and leveraged herself to crouch on top of her saddle, even as she drew her sword out. As she neared the assassin who was about to slash Nandi from the rear, she flung herself from her horse and swung her sword viciously at the same time, decapitating the assassin in one fell swoop. Sati landed on her side and smoothly rolled over to stand behind Nandi as the quivering body of the beheaded assassin collapsed to the ground, blood bursting through, his adrenalised heart pumping the life-giving fluid furiously out of his gaping neck.
‘My Lady!’ yelled Nandi over the din, slashing hard at another assassin in front. ‘Run!’
Sati stood steadfast, defensively back-to-back with Nandi, covering all angles. ‘Not without all of you!’
An assassin leapt at Sati from the side, as she pulled her shield forward. He reached into the folds of his robe and threw something at her eyes. Instinctively, she pulled her shield up. A black egg splattered against her shield, deflecting its contents – shards of metal – safely away from her eyes. Some of the shrapnel cut through her left arm.
Sati had heard of this combat manoeuvre; it was Egyptian. Eggs were drained of their contents through a small hole and then filled with bits and pieces of sharp metal. These were flung at the eyes of enemies, thus blinding them. Usually the next move was a low sword thrust. Though her vision was blocked by her shield, Sati moved instinctively and swerved to her side, to avoid the expected low blow. Then she pressed a lever on her shield, extending a short blade which she rammed into her opponent’s neck, ferociously driving the blade through his windpipe. As the assassin began to choke on his own blood, Sati ran her sword through his heart.
Nandi, meanwhile, was effortlessly killing all those in front of him. He was a big man, and he towered over the diminutive Egyptians like a giant. Not one of the assassins could even come close as he hacked through anyone who dared to challenge him. They threw knives and the modified eggs at him. But nothing got through to any vital part of his body. With a knife buried in his shoulder and numerous metallic shrapnel pierced all over his body, a bloodied Nandi fought relentlessly against his enemies. But both Nandi and Sati could see that the odds were stacked heavily against them. Most of their soldiers were falling, overwhelmed by the surprise attack and the sheer numbers. Escape wasn’t an option either, as they were now surrounded on all sides. Their only hope was that other Suryavanshis in Devagiri, who were not part of Daksha’s conspiracy, would come to their aid.
An assassin swung at Sati from a high angle on the right. She swung back with vicious force, blocking his blow. The man turned and swerved from the left this time, hoping to push Sati on her back foot. Sati met his strike with equal ferocity. The assassin then attempted to drop low and stab Sati through her abdomen, but he was unaware of her special technique.
Most warriors can only swing their sword in the natural direction, away from their body. Very few can swing it towards their own body, because of a lack of strength and skill. Sati could. Hence, both the inner and the outer sides of her sword were sharpened, unlike the vast majority of swords which only have sharpened outer edges. Sati swung back, and with a near impossible stroke, masterfully pulled her sword arm towards herself with tremendous force. The surprised assassin had his throat cut cleanly before he could respond. The wound was deep, almost beheading the man. The Egyptian’s head fell backwards, dangling tenuously from his body by a shred of tissue, his eyes still rolling in his head. Sati kicked his body away as it collapsed.
She saw movement on her left and realised her mistake too late. She tried to block the sword stroke from the second assassin but it glanced off her sword, and went up into her scarred left cheek, cutting through her eye and grating off her skull. Her left eye collapsed in its socket, and blood poured from the wound, obscuring the vision in her other eye. Blinded, she executed a desperate defensive block, hoping to ward off any blows while she tried to wipe the blood from her face. She heard a woman panting, almost sobbing and realised that it was she herself. She braced as the man moved forward for a second attack.
She detected a movement from the right, and through her pinkish blurred vision, she saw Nandi swing from his massive height, beheading the assassin in one fell swoop.
‘My Lady!’ screamed Nandi, pulling his shield forward to protect himself from another assassin’s blow. ‘Run!’
The world had slowed around her, and his voice came to her as if from a great distance. She could hear her own heart beating; hear her breath gasping as she gazed at the carnage. The bodies of her guards lay bloodied and broken at her feet. Some of the fallen still lived, reaching and clawing at the legs of the attackers in desperation, until they were kicked aside in annoyance, their lives finished with half-distracted sword-strokes of irritation.
My arrogance
, a voice whispered in her head.
I have failed them. Again.
Her brain had blocked out the throbbing in her mutilated eye. She spat out the blood streaking down her face and into her mouth. Using her good right eye, she swung back into battle. Stepping back to avoid a brutal stab from another assassin, she slashed her sword from the right and sliced through his hand. As the Egyptian howled in pain, Sati rammed her shield into his head, cracking open his skull. She stabbed the staggering assassin in his eye, pulled her sword back quickly and turned to face another.
The assassin flung a knife across the distance. It cut through Sati’s upper left arm, getting stuck in her biceps, restricting the movement of her defensive limb. Sati snarled in fury and swung her sword viciously across the assassin’s body, cutting through the cloak and slashing deep into his chest. As the man staggered back, Sati delivered the killer blow, a stab straight through his heart. But the flow of assassins was unrelenting. Another one ran in to battle Sati. Using sheer will to overpower her tiring body, Sati raised her blood-drenched sword once again.
Swuth was observing the battle from a short distance away. His orders had been to ensure the death of the one they called Neelkanth. Surely he was the tall one, the powerful warrior, cutting down all his opponents with such ease. Swuth moved into the fray, striding towards the embattled Nandi.
Nandi looked up and turned to face his new opponent, swinging his sword fiercely at Swuth’s blade. The Egyptian stepped back, his hand stinging with the force of Nandi’s blow. Swuth dropped his sword and drew out two curved blades, something he kept for special occasions. Nandi had never seen swords such as these. They were short, a little less than two-thirds the length of his own sword. They curved in sharply at their edges, almost like hooks. The hilts of the swords were also peculiar, since most of it was made of uncovered metal, instead of being enveloped in leather or wood. A sword fighter would have to be very skilled not to cut himself while holding such swords, for the handles were also unsheathed sharp metal.
Swuth was no amateur. He swung both swords in a circular motion skilfully and with frightening speed. Nandi, never having seen swords and a battle style such as this, was naturally cautious and kept his shield held high. He waited for the Egyptian to move in, while keeping a safe distance at the same time. Using the attention that Nandi had focused on Swuth, and Sati’s distraction with battling the assassin on her side, an Egyptian moved in suddenly and slashed Nandi’s back viciously with his sword. Nandi roared with fury as his body lurched forward in reaction to the excruciatingly painful wound.
Swuth used this moment to suddenly hook his left sword onto his right blade, thus extending its reach two-fold, and swung hard from a low angle, aiming a little below Nandi’s defensive shield. The sharp edge on the metallic hilt sliced through Nandi’s left arm, severing it cleanly, a few inches above his wrist. The Suryavanshi bellowed in pain as blood burst from his slashed limb, the shock of the massive blow causing his heart to pump furiously. Swuth stepped close to a paralysed Nandi and slashed at his right arm, hacking the sword-bearing limb just below the elbow. The mighty Suryavanshi, with blood bursting forth from both his severed limbs, collapsed on the ground. Swuth spat as he kicked both of Nandi’s hacked hands away.