The Naga roared in fury. But to Parvateshwar’s surprised admiration, he swung his sword arm, with the knife buried in his shoulder, back into the batde. Parvateshwar brought his shield back up and blocked the slightly weaker strike from the Naga. He brought his sword up in a stab but the Naga was too quick and deflected it. Swerving left, Parvateshwar rammed his shield down hard on the knife still buried in the Naga’s shoulder. The knife chipped through the shoulder bone. The Naga snarled in pain and stumbled. That was the opening that Parvateshwar needed. Bringing his sword up in a brutal upward stab, he pushed it ruthlessly through the Naga’s heart. The Naga froze as Parvateshwar’s sword ripped the life out of him. Parvateshwar pushed his sword in deeper, completing the kill. The Naga fell back motionless.
Parvateshwar was not above the Meluhan fascination with a Naga face. He kneeled to tear the Naga’s mask off to reveal a horrifying countenance. The Naga’s nose was pure bone and had grown to almost form a bird-like beak. His ears were ridiculously large while his mouth was grotesquely constricted. He looked like a vulture in human form. Parvateshwar quickly whispered what every Suryavanshi said when he brought down a worthy opponent, ‘Have a safe journey to the other side, brave warrior.’
One down four to go, thought Parvateshwar rising. Correction, two down, three to go. He saw Shiva bring down a gigantic Naga in the distance. Both Shiva and Parvateshwar saw each other and nodded. Shiva pointed towards Parvateshwar’s back. Parvateshwar turned to see a ferocious Naga fighting five Suryavanshis singlehandedly. He turned back to look at Shiva and nodded. Shiva turned to charge at another Naga as Parvateshwar turned to the one marked for him.
Shiva dashed through the pitched battle scene towards the Naga who had just killed a Suryavanshi soldier. He leapt high as he ran in close, with his shield in front to prevent the standard swinging strike from the Naga. The Naga had brought his own shield up to prevent what he expected from Shiva — the orthodox up to down swinging strike from a good height. Shiva, however, surprised the Naga by thrusting in his sword sideward, neatly circumventing the Naga’s shield and gashing his arm. The Naga bellowed in pain and fell back. He straightened and held his shield high again, realising that Shiva was going to be a much more formidably enemy than the previous Suryavanshi.
As Shiva grimly fought the fearless Naga, he did not notice another one at a distance. This Naga could see that their assault was being progressively pushed back. It was a matter of time before the Nagas and the Chandravanshis would have to retreat. This Naga would have to face the ignominy of having led the first failed attack. And he could see that it was Shiva who had led the counter-offensive. That man had to be destroyed for the future of the mission. The Naga drew his bow forward.
Shiva meanwhile, unaware of the danger, had wedged his sword a little into the Naga’s stomach. The Naga grimly fought on, stepping back slowly while ramming Shiva with his shield. He tried in vain to swing his sword down to slice Shiva, who kept his own shield at the ready. He kept fending the Naga’s blows while pressing ahead, pushing the sword in deeper and deeper. It was a few more seconds before the Naga’s soul gave up. It slipped away as his body bled to death and collapsed. Shiva looked down at the fallen Naga in awe.
These people maybe evil, but they are fearless soldiers.
Shiva looked to the left to find that Parvateshwar too had killed the Naga he had engaged. He continued to turn slowly, trying to find the last Naga. Then he heard a loud shout from the person he had come to love beyond reason.
‘S-H-I-V-A.’
Shiva turned to his right to find Sati racing towards him. He looked behind her to see if anyone was chasing her. There was nobody. He frowned. Before he could react, Sati leapt forward. A jump timed to perfection.
The Naga at the distance had released the agnibaan or the fire arrow, one of the legendary poisoned arrows of their people. The venom on its tip burned its victim’s body from the inside, causing a slow, painful death that would scar the soul for many births. The arrow had been set straight at Shiva’s neck. It sped unerringly on its deadly mission. However, the Naga had not calculated the possibility of someone obstructing its path.
Sati twisted her body in mid-air as she leapt in front of Shiva. The arrow slammed into her chest with brutal force, propelling her airborne body backward. She fell to Shiva’s left, limp and motionless. A stunned Shiva stared at Sati’s prone body, his heart shattering.
The destroyer of evil roared in fury. He charged at the Naga like a wild elephant on the brink of insanity, his sword raised. The Naga was momentarily staggered by the fearsome sight of the charging Neelkanth. But to his credit, he rallied. He swiftly drew another arrow from his quiver, loaded it and let it fly. Shiva swung his sword to deflect the arrow, barely missing a step or decreasing his manic speed. The increasingly panic struck Naga loaded another arrow and shot again. Shiva swung his sword once more, deflecting the arrow easily, picking up more speed. The Naga reached back to draw another arrow. But it was too late. With a fierce yell, Shiva leapt high as he neared the Naga. He swung his sword viciously, decapitating the Naga with one swing of his sword. The Naga’s lifeless body fell in a heap as his severed head flew with the mighty blow, while his still pumping heart spewed blood through the gaping neck.
The Neelkanth’s vengeance was not quenched. Screaming, Shiva bent and kept hacking at the Naga’s inert body, ruthlessly slashing it to bits. No assertion of reason, no articulation of sanity could have penetrated Shiva’s enraged mind. Except for a soft, muffled, injured voice that was barely audible in the din of battle, except to him.
‘Shiva...’
He turned back to look at Sati lying in the distance, her head raised slightly.
‘Sati!’
He sped towards her, bellowing, ‘Parvateshwar! Get Ayurvati! Sati has fallen!’
Ayurvati had already seen Sati’s injured body. The Chandravanshis were retreating in haste. Ayurvati ran towards Sati, as did Parvateshwar on hearing Shiva’s call. Shiva reached her first. She was motionless, but alive. She was breathing heavily as the arrow had pierced her left lung, flooding her innards with her blood. She couldn’t speak as the force of the blow had made the blood gush from her mouth. But she continued to stare at Shiva. Her face had a strange smile, almost serene. She kept opening her mouth as if trying to say something. Shiva desperately wanted to hold her, but he kept his hands locked together as he tried frantically to control his tears.
‘O Lord Brahma!’ cried Ayurvati as she reached Sati and recognised the arrow. ‘Mastrak! Dhruvini! Get a stretcher. Now!’
Parvateshwar, Ayurvati, Mastrak and Dhruvini carried Sati to one of the village houses with Shiva following closely Ayurvati’s other assistants had already begun cleaning the hut and setting the instruments for the surgery.
‘Wait outside, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati to Shiva, raising her hand.
Shiva wanted to follow Ayurvati into the hut, but Parvateshwar held him back by touching his shoulder. ‘Ayurvati is one of the best doctors in the world, Shiva. Let her do her job.’
Shiva turned to look at Parvateshwar, who was doing an admirable job of controlling his emotions. But it took one look in his eyes for Shiva to know that Parvateshwar was as afraid for Sati as he was. Probably more than he had been before Sati’s agnipariksha. Suddenly a thought hit Shiva. He turned and hurried to the closest Naga body. Bending quickly, he checked the right wrist. Finding nothing there, he turned and rushed to the other Naga dead body.
Meanwhile, Parvateshwar had rallied his disturbed mind enough to realise the important tasks that needed to be done. He called Vraka and ordered, ‘Place guards over the prisoners of war. Get doctors to attend to all the injured, including the Chandravanshis.’
‘The injured Chandravanshis have already taken their poison, my Lord,’ said Vraka. ‘You know they will never want to be caught alive.’
Parvateshwar looked at Vraka with a withering look, clearly saying that he wasn’t interested in the details and Vraka should get to th
e task at hand.
‘Yes, my Lord,’ said Vraka, acknowledging Parvateshwar’s silent order.
‘Arrange a perimeter for any counter-attack,’ continued Parvateshwar, his consciousness already drawn back to Sati’s condition in the house behind him. ‘And...’
Vraka looked up at Parvateshwar, surprised by his Lord’s hesitation. He had never seen his Lord hesitate before. But Vraka had the good sense to not say anything. He waited for his Lord to complete his statement.
‘And...’ continued Parvateshwar. ‘There should be some courier-pigeons still alive in the temple. Send a red coloured letter to Devagiri. To the Emperor. Tell him Princess Sati is seriously injured.’
Vraka looked up in disbelief. He had no news about Sati. But wisely, he did not say anything.
‘Tell the Emperor,’ continued Parvateshwar, ‘that she has been shot by an agnibaan.’
‘O Lord Indra!’ blurted Vraka unable to control his shocked dismay.
‘Do it now, Brigadier!’ snarled Parvateshwar.
‘Yes, my Lord,’ said Vraka with a weak salute.
Shiva meanwhile had already checked the wrists of four of the Nagas. None of them wore the leather bracelet with the serpent aum that Shiva had come to recognise. He reached the last one. The one who had shot Sati. The wretched one who Shiva had hacked. Shiva kicked the Naga’s torso with intense hatred before trying to find his right arm. It took him some time to find the severed limb. Locating it, he raised the remnants of the robe to check the wrist. There was no leather bracelet. It wasn’t him.
Shiva came back to the hut to find Parvateshwar seated on a stool outside. Krittika was standing beside the hut entrance, sobbing uncontrollably. Veerbhadra was holding her gently comforting her. A distraught Nandi stood at Veerbhadra’s side, his face stunned into a blank expression. Parvateshwar looked up at Shiva and pointed to the empty stool next to him with a weak smile. He was making brave attempts to appear under control. Shiva sat down slowly and looked into the distance, waiting for Ayurvati to come out.
‘We have removed the arrow, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati.
Shiva and Parvateshwar were standing in the hut, looking at an unconscious Sati. Nobody else was allowed in. Ayurvati had clearly said that Sati did not need the risk of increased infection. And nobody dared argue with the formidable Ayurvati on medical matters. Mastrak and Dhruvini had already fanned out to support the other medical officers treating the injured Suryavanshi soldiers.
Shiva turned to the right of the bed to see the bloodied tong that had been used to stretch Sati’s innards to pull the arrow out. That tong would never be used again. It had been infected with the agnibaan poison. No amount of heat or chemicals would make the instrument sterile and safe again. Next to the tong lay the offending arrow, wrapped in neem leaves, where it would stay for one full day, before being buried deep in a dry grave to ensure it would not cause any more harm.
Shiva looked at Ayurvati, his eyes moist, unable to find the strength to ask the question that raged in his heart.
‘I will not lie to you, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati, in the detached manner that doctors will themselves into, to find the strength in traumatic circumstances. ‘It doesn’t look good. Nobody in history has survived an agnibaan which has penetrated one of the vital organs. The poison will start causing an intense fever in some time, which will result in the failing of one organ after another.’
Shiva looked down at Sati and then up pleadingly. Ayurvati fought hard to rein in her tears and keep her composure. She couldn’t afford to lose control. She had many lives to save in the next few hours.
‘I am sorry, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati. ‘But there really is no cure. We can only give some medicines to make her end easier.’
Shiva glared angrily at Ayurvati. ‘We are not giving up! Is that clear?’
Ayurvati looked at the ground, unable to meet Shiva’s eye.
‘If the fever is kept under control, then her organs will not be damaged, right?’ asked Shiva, as a glimmer of hope entered his being.
Ayurvati looked up and said, ‘Yes, my Lord. But that is not a final solution. The fever caused by an agnibaan can only be delayed, not broken. If we try and control the fever, it will come back even stronger once the medicines are stopped.’
‘Then we will control the fever forever!’ cried Shiva. ‘I will sit by her side all my life if needed. The fever will not rise.’
Ayurvati was about to say something to Shiva, but thought better of it and kept silent. She would come back to Shiva in a few hours. She knew that Sati could not be saved. It was impossible. Precious time was being wasted in this futile discussion. Time that could be used to save other lives.
‘Alright, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati, quickly administering the medicines to Sati to keep her fever down. ‘This should keep her fever down for a few hours.’
She looked up at Parvateshwar standing at the back for an instant. Parvateshwar knew that keeping the fever down would only lengthen Sati’s agony. But he too felt the glimmer of hope that Shiva felt.
Turning back towards Shiva, Ayurvati said, ‘My Lord, you too are injured. Let me dress your wounds and I’ll leave.’
‘I am alright,’ said Shiva, not taking his eyes off Sati for an instant.
‘No, you are not, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati firmly. ‘Your wounds are deep. If they catch an infection, then it could be life threatening.’
Shiva did not answer. He just kept looking at Sati and waved his hand dismissively.
‘Shiva!’ shouted Ayurvati. Shiva looked up at her. ‘You cannot help Sati if you yourself become unwell!’
The harsh tone had the desired effect. While Shiva did not move from his place, he let Ayurvati dress his wounds. Ayurvati then quickly tended to Parvateshwar’s wounds and left the hut.
Shiva looked at the prahar lamp in the hut. It had been three hours since Ayurvati had removed the arrow. Parvateshwar had left the hut to look after the other injured and make the preparations for setting up camp, since the convoy was going to stay in Koonj for some time. That was Parvateshwar’s way. If he was confronted with an ugly situation that he could do nothing about, he did not wallow in his misery. He would drown himself in his work so that he did not have to think about the crisis.
Shiva was different. Many years back, he had sworn that he would never run from a difficult situation. Even if there was absolutely nothing he could do. He hadn’t left Sati’s side for a moment. He sat patiently by her bed, waiting for her to recover. Hoping for her to recover. Praying for her to recover.
‘Shiva...’ a barely audible whisper broke the silence.
Shiva looked at Sati’s face. Her eyes were slightly open. Her hand had moved indiscernibly. He pulled his chair closer, careful not to touch her.
‘I’m so sorry,’ cried Shiva. ‘I should never have got us into this fight.’
‘No, no,’ murmured Sati. ‘You did the right thing. Someone had to make our stand. You have come to Meluha to lead us and to destroy evil. You did your duty.’
Shiva continued to stare at Sati, overcome by grief. Sati widened her eyes a bit, she was trying to take in as much of Shiva as she could, in what she knew were her last moments. Death is the ultimate destroyer of a soul’s aspirations. Ironically, it is usually the approach of this very destruction which gives a soul the courage to challenge every constraint and express itself. Express even a long-denied dream.
‘It is my time to go, Shiva,’ whispered Sati. ‘But before I go, I want to tell you that the last few months have been the happiest in my life.’
Shiva continued to look at Sati with moist eyes. His hands developed a life of their own and moved towards Sati. He checked himself in time.
‘I wish you had come into my life earlier,’ said Sati, letting out a secret that she hadn’t even acknowledged to herself. ‘My life would have been so different.’
Shiva’s eyes tried frantically to restrain themselves, struggling against the despair that needed an outlet.
‘I wish I had told you earlier,’ murmured Sati. ‘Because the first time that I am telling you will also probably be the last.’
Shiva looked on at her, his voice choked.
Sati looked deeply into Shiva’s eyes, whispering softly, ‘I love you.’
The dam broke and tears poured down Shiva’s grief-stricken face.
‘You are going to repeat these words for at least another hundred years,’ sobbed Shiva. ‘You are not going anywhere. I will fight the god of death himself, if I have to. You are not going anywhere.’
Sati smiled sadly and put her hand in Shiva’s. Her hand was burning. The fever had begun its assault.
CHAPTER 18
Sati and the Fire Arrow
‘Nothing can be done, my Lord,’ said a visibly uncomfortable Ayurvati.
She and Shiva were standing in a corner of the hut, at what they thought was a safe distance beyond the range of Sati’s ears. Parvateshwar was standing beside them, holding his tears back.
‘Come on, Ayurvati,’ urged Shiva. ‘You are the best doctor in the land. All we have to do is break the fever.’
‘This fever cannot be broken,’ reasoned Ayurvati. ‘There is no cure for the agnibaan poison. We are only lengthening Sati’s agony by keeping the fever low. The moment the medicines are stopped, the fever will recur with a vengeance.’
‘Let it go, Shiva,’ mumbled a frail voice from the bed. Everyone turned to stare at Sati. Her face bore a smile that comes only with the acceptance of the inevitable. ‘I have no regrets. I have told you what I needed to. I am content. My time has come.’
‘Don’t give up on me, Sati,’ cried Shiva. ‘You are not gone yet. We will find a way. I will find a way. Just bear with me.’