The Secret of the Nagas (32 page)

Nandi, pulling his sword out from the right shoulder of an enemy, pushed him down with his shield, hoping the brigand would remain down and surrender. To Nandi’s surprise and admiration, the bandit dropped his shield, smoothly transferring his sword to his uninjured left hand, and jumped into the fray again. Nandi pulled his shield forward to prevent the sword strike and pushed his sword in once again into the injured right shoulder of the thug, shouting over the din, ‘Surrender, you fool!’

Veerbhadra, however, was not having much luck keeping his enemies alive. He had already killed two and was trying desperately to avoid killing a very determined third. Ignoring his injured sword arm, the bandit had picked up his sword with his left hand. An exasperated Veerbhadra swung down hard with his shield on the brigand’s head, hoping to knock the man out. The thug arched his shoulder, taking the blow on it while swinging his sword in a brutal cut at Veerbhadra. The sword slashed Veerbhadra across his torso. Enraged, he thrust his sword straight at the exposed flank of the bandit, driving the blade through his heart.

‘Dammit!’ screamed a frustrated Veerbhadra. ‘Why didn’t you just surrender?’

In another corner of the battlefield, Shiva swung his shield sideward at the outlaw he was combating. The brigand swung his head back, getting a slash across his face but preventing a knockout blow.

Shiva was now getting worried. Too many people were getting killed, mostly on Parshuram’s side. He wanted them alive. Or the secret of the Naga medicine would be lost. Then he heard a loud sound. It was Parvateshwar’s conch shell.

They’re coming!

Brutally stabbing his enemy, Shiva also rammed his shield onto the bandit’s head again, this time successfully knocking him cold. Then he looked up and smiled.

The massive Suryavanshi ship burst through the flaming canoes, running aground onto the beach, its hull cracking. The flames on the Madhumati were high for a cutter, but not high enough for a large ship. Parshuram had banked on the idea that the Suryavanshis would not ground their ship as this would mean that they would have no way of returning to Branga. He had, however, miscalculated the determination of the Suryavanshi troops as well as the valour of their General, Parvateshwar.

The ship rammed through many of Parshuram’s men, killing them instantly.

Parvateshwar, standing at the bow, jumped down as soon as the ship hit the sandbank. The rope tied around his waist broke his fall from the great height. As he swung close to the ground, Parvateshwar slashed his sword above him, cutting the rope neatly and landing free. Four hundred Suryavanshis followed their General into battle.

Drapaku had been momentarily distracted by the sight of the ship. As he swung his sword at Parshuram’s axe, he failed to notice the bandit pull out a knife from behind. Parshuram brought up his left hand in a smooth action, thrusting the knife into Drapaku’s neck. Pain immobilised the Suryavanshi Brigadier momentarily. Parshuram rammed the knife in brutally, right up to the hilt. Drapaku staggered back, bravely retaining his hold on his sword.

Meanwhile, the Suryavanshis, outnumbering Parshuram’s men five times over, were rapidly taking control of the situation. Many brigands were surrendering, finally seeing the futility of their situation.

At the centre of the battle, Parshuram released the knife from a tottering Drapaku’s neck. He gripped his battleaxe with both hands, pulled back and swung viciously. The axe rammed hard into Drapaku’s torso, smashing through his hide and bronze armour. It struck deep, breaking through skin and flesh, right down to the bone. The mighty Suryavanshi Brigadier fell to the ground. Parshuram tried to pull the axe away, but it was stuck. He yanked hard. Ripping Drapaku’s chest, the axe finally came out. Much to Parshuram’s admiration, the Suryavanshi was still alive. The Brigadier tried to raise his drastically weakened sword arm, still attempting to fight.

Parshuram stepped forward and pinned Drapaku’s arm down. He could feel the weakened motions of the Brigadier’s limb. Attempts by a dying man to not give up the fight, the sword still held tight. Parshuram was awed. He had never needed more than one clear blow with his battleaxe to kill his opponents. His soldiers were rapidly losing the battle, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were transfixed upon the magnificent man dying at his feet.

Parshuram bowed his head slightly and whispered, ‘It is an honour to slay you.’

The brigand raised his axe, ready for the decapitation strike. At the same instant, Anandmayi flung her knife from a distance. It pierced straight through Parshuram’s left hand, causing the axe to fall safely away. Bhagirath, with the help of Divodas and two Suryavanshi soldiers, wrestled Parshuram to the ground without any further injury to the bandit.

Shiva and Parvateshwar ran to Drapaku. He was bleeding profusely, barely alive.

Shiva turned back and shouted, ‘Get Ayurvati! Quickly!’

The sun still had a few hours of life left. Sati was on the school terrace, supervising the making of improvised bows and arrows. The Kashi soldiers were simply incapable of taking on the lions from close quarters. Neither were they skilled at shooting arrows. Sati was hoping that as long as they fired some in the general direction, the arrows might find their mark.

Sati double-checked the pile of wood near the staircase. The soldiers had replenished the stock and it appeared as though they would be able to last the night without running out.

She hoped to kill some members of the pride from the safety of the terrace. If fortune favoured her, she hoped to kill the liger and finish the key source of the menace. A few days of watch thereafter might solve the problem once and for all. After all, there were only seven animals. Not a very large pride.

She looked up at the sky, praying softly that nothing would go wrong.

Chapter 15

The Lord of the People

The sun was rapidly descending into the horizon, the twilit sky a vibrant ochre. The Suryavanshi camp was a hub of feverish activity.

Bhagirath was supervising the key task of the securing of the prisoners. Using bronze chains from the ship, Parshuram’s men had been tied up, hand and foot, and forced to squat in a line in the centre of the sandbank. The chains had been hammered into stakes deep in the ground. As if that wasn’t enough, another chain ran through their anklets, effectively binding them to each other. The Suryavanshi soldiers were stationed all around the prisoners. They would maintain a constant vigil. Escape was impossible for Parshuram and his men.

Divodas walked up to Bhagirath. ‘Your Highness, I’ve inspected the ship.’

‘And?’

‘It will take at least six months to repair.’

Bhagirath cursed. ‘How the hell do we get back?’

At the other end of the beach, ayuralay tents had been set up. Ayurvati and her medical unit were working desperately to save as many as they could, both the Suryavanshis and the bandits. They would succeed with most. But Ayurvati was presently in a tent where there was no hope.

Shiva was on his knees, holding Drapaku’s hand. Ayurvati knew nothing could be done. The injuries were too deep. She stood at the back, with Nandi and Parvateshwar. Drapaku’s father, Purvaka, was kneeling on the other side, looking lost once again.

Drapaku kept opening his mouth, trying to say something.

Shiva bent forward. ‘What is it, my friend?’

Drapaku couldn’t speak. Blood continued to ooze from his mouth. He turned towards his father and then back to Shiva. The movement caused his heart to spurt, spilling some more blood out of his gaping chest onto the sheet covering him.

Shiva, his eyes moist, whispered, ‘I will take care of him, Drapaku. I will take care of him.’

A long breath escaped Drapaku. He had heard what he needed to. And he let himself die, at peace finally.

A gasp escaped Purvaka’s lips. His head collapsed on his son’s shoulders, his body shaking. Shiva reached out and touched Purvaka gently on his shoulders. Purvaka looked up, his forehead covered with his son’s brave blood, tears flowing furiously. He looked at Shiva, devastated. The proud, confident Purvaka was gone. It was the same broken man that had met Shiva at Kotdwaar in Meluha. His only reason to stay alive had been brutally hacked away.

Shiva’s heart sank. He couldn’t bear to look at this Purvaka. And then, rage entered his heart. Pure, furious rage!

Shiva rose.

To Parvateshwar’s surprise, Nandi lunged forward, grabbing Shiva. ‘No, My Lord! This is wrong.’

Shiva angrily pushed Nandi aside and stormed out. He began running to where Parshuram had been tied up.

Nandi was running behind, still screaming. ‘No, My Lord! He’s a prisoner. This is wrong.’

Shiva was running even harder. As he came close to where Parshuram had been tied, he drew out his sword.

Bhagirath standing at the other end of the line screamed out. ‘No, My Lord! We need him alive!’

But Shiva was frenzied, screaming, racing quickly towards Parshuram, his sword high, ready to behead the bandit.

Parshuram continued to stare blankly, not a hint of fear on his face. And then he shut his eyes and shouted the words he wanted to die with. ‘Jai Guru Vishwamitra! Jai Guru Vashisht!’

A stunned Shiva stopped in his tracks. Paralysed.

Not feeling the sword strike on his neck, Parshuram opened his eyes and stared at Shiva, confused.

The sword slipped from Shiva’s hands. ‘Vasudev?’

Parshuram looked as shocked as Shiva. He finally got a good look at Shiva’s throat, deliberately covered by a cravat. Realisation dawned. ‘Oh Lord! What have I done? Neelkanth! Lord Neelkanth!’

Parshuram brought his head down towards Shiva’s feet, tears flooding his eyes. ‘Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me. I didn’t know it was you.’

Shiva just stood there. Paralysed.

A half-asleep Sati heard the throaty roars. She immediately became alert.

They’re here.

She turned towards the doorway. The fire was burning strong. Two soldiers were sitting guard.

‘Kaavas, they’re here. Wake everyone up.’

Sati crept up to the terrace railing. She couldn’t see any lion as yet. The moon had a bit of strength tonight. She wasn’t dependant only on the fire.

Then she saw the liger emerge from the tree line. The arrow Sati had shot was still buried in his shoulder, its shaft broken. It made him drag his front foot marginally.