DEFENCE OF THE SUN THRONE

PROLOGUE

Darkness all around, then there was light, and in between all of this – rain and mist. No matter how many times he had been here, this place never ceased to amaze the hermit.

This land, it was a world between worlds, a place which should never have been more than a bridge between realms used by souls to travel after death. But yet, it had somehow evolved itself into something far more dangerous holding many powerful secrets.

And yet there he was, wandering in such a sinister place to meet a man who had taken up temporary residence in this world. The hermit had known the man well in his lifetime. Afterall was he himself who had helped this man become one of the finest warriors of the world.

But never would he have anticipated the man would come and stay here after his death. And deep down he knew one of the reasons for the man’s choice was the hermit himself. With such fleeting memories he trudged along.

As the hermit neared his destination, he could see the man sitting on a stone lost in thought. Standing in front of the man he greeted – “Hello my dear student.”

The man looked up and with a startled expression on his face, slowly stood up and bowed with folded hands – “Greetings Teacher. Forgive me for not noticing you there. I did not expect to have visitors in this world”.

The hermit smiled, “Yes I understand totally child. It is me who should be seeking an apology for coming here and disrupting your peace”.

The man grinned, “No need to apologize for something which isn’t present here Sir. Seems death too has failed in granting any peace to my soul.”

To this the hermit responded, “The soul does not require anything at all child. The soul is above emotions or feelings. It doesn’t get affected by life or death. Only when you realize this, there will be peace”.

The man replied with a smirk, “I shall try to remember this Master. Thank you for this lesson even after death”.

The hermit winked, “Seems death itself cannot rid a student from his teacher’s lessons”.

The hermit continued “There is an ulterior motive behind my visit to you here. I have a request for you and if you do fulfil it, I shall help you out myself in attaining peace. Would you be interested?”

The man bowed his head and responded, ”A true student shall always obey his teacher without hesitation. I feel blessed that you have selected me among all of your elite pupils for this task. This satisfaction is enough. You have deemed me worthy of your task and I shall strive to my fullest to fulfil it.”

The hermit raised his hand in a blessing and said, “I could never think of anyone else more suited. For this task at hand, you may come face to face with an old friend of yours. A very powerful one at that. It may come to the point that you will take up arms against him as well”.

The man thought for a while and asked, “This friend, is he a good friend of mine ?”.

“Yes”, replied the hermit, “You have once fought side by side in battle as well.”

“If that is the case then I have one condition Teacher. As he’s my friend, there is a chance of hesitation creeping up when fighting against him. I would request you to remove my memories so that my judgement would not get clouded if such a situation does arise”.

The hermit looked at his pupil in wonder, “Even after death you never cease to impress me son. I shall abide by your request.”

Last thing the man remembered was everything going black around him.

********************** ******************* *******************

PART 1:

The itch between his toes was getting worse. Murad cursed himself for stepping over those goddamn brambles the other day, cursed this stupid damp forest, cursed this godforsaken land for being so hostile and cursed himself again for agreeing to embark on this expedition.

For someone who had spent all his life roaming among the deserts of his homeland this country was far from welcome. On his journey he had experienced all the different weather conditions imaginable and his body was not so keen to adjust with these conditions.

As he sat in front of the campfire prodding his leg with his mind wandering in such thoughts, a figure stirred in the group sitting on the other side of the fire. The figure then slowly made its way towards the tents. Murad got up and followed that figure with a singular thought of getting some answers.

“Grand Wazir”, he called out as the figure stopped and turned back.

“Ah, Imperial Historian Murad. Pleasant night isn’t it?” remarked the old man.

“If this is pleasant Wazir, then our homeland is definitely a paradise”, answered Murad dryly.

“Tough judgements you make Historian, but understandable considering this is the first time you ventured far from home.”

“And probably my last too. Wazir I wish to have a few words with you in private.”

“Well it is already late and we have a hard day’s march tomorrow. But never mind, I can spare a few moments provided your query is not too taxing on an old man’s mind.”

“For someone like you Grand Wazir, it would be just a whimsical passing thought.”

“Kind words my young friend, sadly my mind is not what it used to be. Very well let’s get to my tent. And we shall discuss with a goblet of wine”, gestured the old man and strode forward.

Murad followed the second most powerful person in his kingdom feeling like he was about to enter a Lion’s den. As he entered the tent, Murad recalled his last time inside as the Imperial historian. The room then was fully occupied with scribes, captains and the commander, all making decisions on the expedition under the watchful eye of the Grand Wazir.

Murad had observed the tent itself was a reflection of the man owning it. No sense of grandeur, simple carpet adorning the ground, a huge table at the centre strewn with maps, ledgers and reports of all sort surrounded by its bickering occupants, a single cot to the far end and a wooden trunk housing whatever humble clothes the Wazir possessed. Now standing at the same place this tent seemed to him to be quite huge and empty.

The Wazir was now walking towards the trunk, rummaged for a few moments and fished out 2 crystal goblets and a bottle. He then gestured Murad towards one of the chairs placed near the table. Pouring the wine into the goblets, he handed Murad one of them and settled on one of the other chairs sipping the drink.

Murad himself took a sip, “Ah, impeccable taste Wazir. Makes me even more homesick now”.

“Alas, this wine acts as a modest lodestone for all my memories of home. Else it would take little time in going insane amidst all this madness”, answered the Wazir gesturing towards the heap of stuff on the table.

“I never did see it from that perspective Wazir, you have all of my sympathies.”

“No pity needed Historian, it is after all our duty which we have embraced ourselves. Now enough of grim thoughts, tell me what is it you wished to discuss with me?”

“Just to be upfront, it is just my curiosity Wazir, no hidden motives behind what I’m about to ask.”

The Wazir’s brow lifted, “Go on, be assured I do not hold such thoughts.”

“Ok then”, Murad took a deep breath and started – “I want to know what business we are having in this jungle that so concerns the Emperor himself?”

“The jungle is a shortcut to reach the eastern kingdoms which are rumoured to be rich with wealth. It surprises me that you still have doubts on the Emperor’s decisions”

“Well true enough reason Wazir, but I did some asking around myself with the slaves. There are few of them who are familiar with this part of the land and they say no such kingdoms exist.”

“Thread carefully now Historian, what you are saying walks scantily on treason.”

“Apologies Wazir, but that was not my intention. I have a theory of my own regarding the Emperor’s campaigns in this country. After all he has plundered this land 4 times already since I came to service with the empire. I find it hard to believe there is still anything of value left anymore”.

A wry smile came upon the Wazir’s face, “Ok, whatever we will discuss next will not leave this tent. Get on with your theory now.”

“Ok. My guess is that the Emperor is on the search for something in this land. And each time he comes back getting that much closer to whatever he is searching. Tell me Wazir how near am I to the truth?” asked Murad.

There was a wicked glint in the Wazir’s face as he answered, “You are right on point here Historian. Your curiosity is nothing to be taken lightly off. I admit there is some truth in your speculation. Would you like to know the whole of it?”

“Thank you Wazir, you do not know the relief you have provided me with this admittance. As for your question, yes I would like to know the full truth. It will do wonders to my curiosity”, he replied with a smile.

“Very well. Let’s start from the beginning. We, the Ghavinzads are a nomadic desert tribe right. We do not hold any lands for farming or any businesses to run. Our very core culture thrives on forage, plunder and loot. And we embrace fighting as we embrace God. So when the current emperor, Mahmud of Ghavinzad came to power, he set his eyes to the east where no previous ruler of the dynasty had the courage or the manpower to march to.”

“On his first expedition here, he stumbled unknowingly on wealth and riches our people could not even dream about. Just imagine that the Emperor came back almost 24 times richer than he had set out on the first expedition. Oh I still remember the celebrations back home, it lasted for 3 whole weeks. The ale kept on flowing and so did the loins of the women. Good times those were, everyone losing themselves in the trance.”

“However as is human nature, greed came upon the Emperor and he started journeying every other year with similar agendas. The riches started dwindling campaign after campaign until the Emperor had enough. He had decided there would be one more last campaign where we would bleed this land dry and never to return. However as fate would have had it, the Emperor came across an interesting story. You see centuries before, this land was ruled by people of the Sun dynasty. And in their possession was a throne which would grant its wielder unlimited wisdom and power. This throne was passed down generation after generation until somewhere it was lost in the entrails of time.”

“The Emperor got acquainted with a group of monks belonging to a sect which had with them clues to the location of this throne. They provided these details to our Emperor’s scholars and slowly our agenda of the last campaign changed. Our primary goal was now to follow those clues and seek out the true location of this throne.”

“With each expedition hereafter, we have been closing in on numerous presumed locations of this artefact only to face either a dead end or another cryptic clue. Even the current journey which we are undertaking follows a similar goal.”

Murad suddenly realized he was holding his breath; he exhaled slowly and asked, “But Wazir, the Emperor must’ve had enough chances to seek this treasure as he has travelled here multiple times. How is it that this artefact still eludes him and our entire army?”

To this the old man smiled, “Ha ha, you think it is so easy as to just reach out and take it? It amuses me that you think that such a source of power will not have Guardians. Strong and powerful ones. They nearly massacred our entire army the first time we faced them. It took us quite some months to limp back and recover from that particular ordeal.”

“Guardians you say. Powerful enough to take down our army?” Murad inquired in astonishment.

“Powerful indeed. Trust me historian, I was there myself witness to their martial prowess. If we didn’t have the advantage of numbers, the Ghavinzad army would be buried somewhere in dirt many years ago. Such was the ferocity of the guardians who faced us.”

“Who are these people then? Because the kingdoms we have faced in this land are too weak to even fit your description?”

“Ah these petty fools cannot be compared to the Guardians. They were called the Suryaputras, elite warriors avowed to the protection of the Sun dynasty. And naturally, they have taken it upon themselves to be the protectors of the Sun throne.”

“Suryaputras? Children of the Sun God? A fitting name for guardians of the Sun dynasty”

The Wazir answered, “Fitting indeed. Their warriors consist of both men and women. Our army consisted of a million soldiers and they were numbered in thirty or forty thousand, yet almost nine-tenths of our army was annihilated by their hand. Are you able to comprehend their skill Historian?”

Murad gasped at the last point, “If what you say is true, probably that would’ve been the greatest battle the world would never know”.

“True words Historian. Sadly the devastation meted out to our troops on that day has not yet been recovered even until this very day”, the Wazir replied with grief.

“Now take a guess, how many times has the emperor travelled to this land according to you?”

Murad thought for a few moments, “Four times that I have known myself. And considering from the time he was crowned my best guess is around 9 or 10 times excluding the current journey”.

The Wazir let out a cackle of laughter, “Your ignorance is remarkable, it has been 16 times and now we are upon the 17th such expedition.”

Murad’s jaw dropped.

Another cackle at that and the Wazir continued, “The Suryaputras were sadly not done with us. They have led us to numerous false trails ending in dangerous ambushes. It is a miracle the Emperor has not had enough of this to withdraw. And as he still persists on, so do we march each time dwindling our own numbers along with that of the Suryaputras taking one of them for every five of us. Sadly if not for their disadvantage in numbers I have to admit the battles have all been largely lopsided.”

“The Emperor’s zeal is really commendable”, Murad said dryly.

“Yes that it has been. Hopefully this campaign should be our last”, the Wazir said with a hint of satisfaction.

At this Murad asked, “What makes this time so different, how is the Emperor so sure that we will not face another dead end?”

“This time Historian, we have with us a Guide. An ancient being who knows the throne’s exact whereabouts.”

“And why would this person be helping us?” asked Murad.

“Because Historian, he thinks we may have something which he desires”, the Wazir responded with a wink.

********************** ******************* *******************

PART 2:

The cavern was surrounded by a labyrinth of tunnels created with a solitary purpose. The passages and tunnels would lead unwanted pursuers off to a wild goose chase. The pursuers would end up either lost, or become insane roaming endlessly until they ran out of food or water which eventually led to their slow and painful death. If all the instructions were followed precisely, couple of the tunnels led out to this enormous cavern. The cavern’s roof was a huge dome almost spherical in shape with neatly carved ledges and holds. Embedded into the dome’s stone were strange crystals spanning it’s entire length. These crystals emitted a strange form of light which was perfectly mimicked the light from the Sun. The crystals provided the only measure of night and day for the thousand or so inhabitants currently residing in the cavern.

The training exercises were completed for that day and the duelling had begun. The hermit stood on one of the raised platforms overlooking at the group of teenagers standing around the makeshift ring. These wide-eyed youngsters were vying for a good impression of the lady standing next to him, Dharika their matron and the last surviving commander of the Suryaputras. The other men and women of age were long gone leaving only this group of innocent blood as survivors of the once powerful tribe.

Dharika was old, 70 or so years if he remembered correctly, but she looked not a day older than forty. A very rare mix of ancestry, discipline and training was her reply to any jibe targeting her age. He had known Dharika since she was an ambitious young girl with a singular aim of becoming the best fighter the Suryaputras had even known. He had also known her ancestors, all fierce fighters and those genes had greatly rubbed on this girl too. The hermit smiled to himself at those memories.

“It’s good to see you smile hermit, compared to those brooding silences you entertain us with off late.”

“Good to see indeed. I could say the same thing about you Dharika.”

“Do you now?” she snapped at him. “How could you imagine me smiling looking at these young faces before me, knowing very well that they do not have a future ahead. How can I be smiling well knowing the fact that majority of these youngsters will not be alive to even celebrate their next birthday. How can I smile knowing surely well that all the innocence of these young faces will be wiped out with their own blood soon”, and she held her hands up in despair.

The hermit grimaced, “I am aware of the situation Dharika, which is why I have offered you the help I could manage. We Chiran are not allowed to meddle into mortal affairs but I am left with little choice here”.

Dharika guffawed at the hermit, “Help you say. All you have granted us is a single warrior. How good is that when we have a thousand of our own. What you have given me is just another grave to dig when the dust settles”.

“Do not think lightly of my help Dharika. The warrior you speak of is skilled enough to take on an entire legion all by himself. If you require a measure of his fighting prowess then you can say he has the ability to fight 60000 soldiers on his own. Also consider that his training was done by my hand which should count for something.”

Dharika looked at him with brows raised, “A Maharathi? You think me a fool hermit. It has been thousands of years since warriors of such strength walked these lands.”

“Maharathi indeed. But does this warrior look like he’s thousands of years old Dharika”, asked the hermit with a wry smile on his face.

“You Chiran might be immortal hermit, but jest with me a bit more and we will find out if you can really be killed or not”, she snapped.

“Ok I apologize in testing your patience. Well to put it in simpler terms assume that we Chiran can operate outside mortal presumptions. So consider this warrior a gift to aid in your forthcoming battles”.

“Fine, let me find out for myself if this man is really worth your training.”

“Go ahead. But there is a catch, I have removed that man’s memories, so it may take a while for his fighting skills to awaken again. He might not remember who he was but I can guarantee his martial abilities are lying dormant ready to awaken”.

“Just great Hermit, you give me one warrior and then you make him forget how to fight. Why am I sensing a sort of hidden purpose in your removal of his memories?”

“I am not inclined to answer you in this aspect Dharika. Memories have a power in them to awaken things which are not always worth remembering. You will know eventually that I have done that warrior a favour by removing his past”.

Dharika sighed, “I shouldn’t be in this position you know. The Suryaputras were fifty thousand strong once. To hell with those damned Persians who have reduced us to such pitiable numbers. And here I am sending teenagers to their deaths and withstanding jests from immortal beings”.

The hermit laid a hand on her, “Do not despair Dharika and have faith in this regard. Put this warrior among your youngsters and I’m sure you will see a rise in morale too.”

“Very well hermit, I will heed your advice. But I do have one doubt about this warrior you brought us.”

“Yes?” asked the hermit.

“Why does this warrior have a faint glow?”

To that the hermit threw out a laugh, “Well you spoke of hidden purposes right,” and he winked at her.

**********************************************************

Part 3:

“Great, either I have lost my mind, or the Wazir should be lying. Yes that is the only explanation that makes any sense” muttered Murad to himself as he walked his horse next to the column of soldiers.

It had been 2 days since his conversation with the Wazir and Murad could still not comprehend the details. The “Guide” was seated on his horse, marching at the front of the column. He was named Ashubhai.

He was an old man this Ashubhai, dark skinned with lines etched deep in his face. His body was covered in scars of a kind, probably an old infection which was not healed correctly. And there was a gaping wound at his forehead which probably looked like from an arrow head getting embedded. But other than these signs, the old man didn’t look old actually.

He was almost 7 feet tall, back straight, shoulders held high and as Murad watched him from behind seated on his horse, he could make out the cuts of muscle visible easily through the old man’s tunic. Definitely a warrior this man, one who has seen more than his share of battles and has lived to tell their tales. On his back was strapped a two handed sword which was almost as tall as Murad himself and he was not too keen on seeing that sword unsheathed.

If the Wazir’s words were true, then this man was probably hundreds of years old even though he didn’t look the part. But his eyes were something which always caught Murad’s attention. They were pitch black and looked like it held oceans of grief in them. Eyes which was burdened by some indomitable weight and had seen lot of suffering which Murad did not even want to imagine.

This old man had a manservant who attended to his needs called Gopal. A very cheerful man this Gopal, dark skinned with a hue of bluish grey and always a smile on his face. He didn’t look more than 16 years old. His innocence had given Murad a much needed comfort in this otherwise grim expedition. And there was a sort of strange attraction to the man’s face.

And now Gopal was riding a few paces behind his master trying to control his horse but clearly the animal was not interested. Murad trotted to his side and waved at him, “Seems your beast has made up his mind to make you eat dust today Gopal”.

Gopal grinned, “Ah you speak true Historian friend. This cursed creature thinks he’s smarter than me. But little does he know Gopal is more smart.”

A thin smile came up on Murad’s face, “You don’t seem to have ridden a horse before have you?”

“No friend. My father was a cowherd in our village. And I will also become one soon. What use is a horse to one such as me. I am happy to use these legs given by god which is anyday better than riding a beast”, he answered innocently.

“Then what is a cowherd doing with one such as your Master?”

“Oh Ashubhai is our village healer. I was helping him with odd chores in the village before he made me into his full time assistant. So here I am”.

“Doesn’t look like a healer to me. That man probably was a renowned fighter once. Healing may be one of his other talents if you ask me.”

“I do not bother with a man’s past Historian. Besides I and my entire village owe our lives to Ashubhai.”

“Really. What sort of an occurrence led to an entire community getting indebted to a healer? Plague?”

“Worse my friend. Deserters from some goddamn army. If not for that man riding there, I would probably be nailed to a stake with crows pecking my eyes”.

“Now that’s indeed unfortunate. Could you explain how this old man turned into your saviour. You have indeed awakened my curiosity”, Murad asked with a grin.

“Very well Historian. I come from a small village of roughly 50 to 100 people. We are a peaceful folk, cowherds, shepherds and farmers mostly. Ashubhai was the healer of our village. I guess he was pretty famous as people from all over would come visit him with their ailments.

 

“One fine day, a group of 200 or 300 soldiers showed up at our gates. They started stealing our stuff and beating up our people. They wore uniforms of a kind and we easily could make out these were deserters who had taken up to banditry. Ashubhai spoke to them and when they were not ready to listen, he called me up and asked me to get his sword from his house. By the time I returned with that heavy sword, he was leading all the villagers into a huge barn and ordered us strictly not to come out no matter what they hear from outside. Most of us thought him mad. What could one old healer do against battle hardened soldiers. But as there was no other choice, we all stayed in that barn for the whole night, praying for our lives”.

The smile was gone from Murad’s face, “And what happened next?”

“We could hear shouts of anger at the beginning, metal clanging and then the voices turned into shrieks and howls. After that they turned into wails and cries. Somewhere after midnight the voices stopped but we stayed put following his instructions. Then at dawn, the door opened and we were horrified to see Ashubhai covered fully from head to toe in blood. His sword blade had turned crimson coloured with dried blood. But the man seemed unscathed and all of that blood covering him seemed to be of others.”

Murad gasped, “So he killed them all?”

“All 300 of them it seems. And when we came out we saw a huge fire at one corner of our village where he had dumped all the bodies and had burned them. That blaze lasted for the whole night historian. After that every one of us got indebted to Ashubhai. Some of the village elders were even scared of him.”

“You didn’t get frightened of him?”

“I was. Then my ma told me that this man is reincarnation of our God Rudra. That is why he is so strong. How can I be afraid of our God historian? It is God after all who protects everyone”.

“Rudra the Hindu Elder God?”

“Yes” replied Gopal.

And then a hint of fear came across Gopal’s cheerful face, “You know, I still get nightmares of that ordeal. The cries of those soldiers, I can still hear them when I sleep. Not a pleasant sound to sleep with. And you know what, when he came to us that morning with sword in hand, I heard the sword sing in my head. It sang a song of wrath and sorrow. I am not looking forward to hearing that song again.”

A chill ran down Murad’s spine on that last bit. A God was walking among them and the Wazir thinks they can use this God to their whim.

He just hoped the Emperor knew what they were up against here.

******************* ****************************** ***********************

PART 4:

“Knocked out cold?” asked Dharika.

The young girl checking the fallen boy nodded nervously. Dharika sighed and turned to the Hermit’s warrior, “You do realize that this is a practice spar. And where did you learn to use the spear like that?”

The warrior looked at the spear in his hand, “I am not sure Dharikaji, this is the first time I remember holding any sort of weapon. I apologize for whatever happened.”

Oh right, his memories. “Be careful. I don’t want any fresh injuries to my already diminished soldiers.” And deep within her mind, a sense of hope started forming. Never in her entire life had she seen anyone move with a spear like how this amnesiac warrior exhibited unknowingly.

Maybe the hermit was right. Let me push him a little bit more and see what else comes out.

“Alright”, she turned towards the other boys and pointed to one “You Shishir, a little bird told me you brag about being the best swordsman among all of us. Get yourself up here and teach this man a few tricks.”

Shishir strode forward with his personal sword and unsheathed it. The amnesiac warrior was given a sword by one of the other boys and he stood in the ring looking at Dharika with pleading eyes, “Dharikaji, this isn’t fair. I have never held a sword in my hand before as well. Pray I will not be the one knocked out in this round.”

Dharika smiled at that, “Let’s just find out then” and gestured for them to begin.

Shishir moved to his battle stance, whereas the other warrior was still standing clutching the sword and watching. He smiled, “You are good with the spear no doubt. But a sword is a real warrior’s measure. Let me teach you a thing or two in that” and charged.

The amnesiac warrior ducked and dived to one side to avoid Shishir’s thrust. He lost his footing and fell sideways to the ground eliciting laughter from the onlookers.

Dharika scowled. Shishir giggled and turned to her, “Dharikaji, this might probably not take long. Give me a real challenge so that you’ll know I was not bragging.”

Dharika looked at the fallen warrior. The man was staring at his fallen sword as if in a trance, then slowly picked it up and got himself to his feet. He walked to the centre and stood facing Shishir in a new unfamiliar stance.

“Once more”, he said eyes fixed on his opponent.

Shishir ground his teeth, got back in his stance and charged again thrusting forwards. The warrior simply sidestepped twisting to turn a full rotation. Shishir’s thrust met with empty air and suddenly the warrior’s pommel hit him hard on the back of his head. He stumbled forward falling to his face.

Dharika’s eyes widened. Shishir was now getting back up and turned towards the amnesiac warrior. “Now how did you learn to do that?” he winced.

“Guess you are a very good teacher”, the man replied with a blank look on his face.

Shishir roared and charged again, his sword a blinding flash. He jabbed forward, slashed, moved around using all his skill against this strange man. The warrior barely even broke a sweat as he moved with matching speed, parrying all of Shishir’s slashes, dancing and sidestepping his thrusts and jabs.

Dharika watched as the two warriors now moved in a blur, metals clanging. Shishir hadn’t bragged about his skill with the sword it would seem. The speed of his moves was unmatched by of her other warriors as far as she had known. Sadly all of his skills were getting beaten back with utter disdain. Whatever he threw at the amnesiac warrior, the man easily slapped away and followed it up with his own counter of equal ferocity making Shishir move to the defensive. His sword moved in ways which even Dharika herself was not familiar with. As she cluelessly watched the spar, Dharika began to wonder how Shishir was even managing to defend himself.

Suddenly Shishir jumped with a deadly backhanded slash, for his finishing move. She had seen him use it against the other boys previously. Even if the opponent countered the slash, Shisir’s jump would give him enough momentum to drop a body blow on the opponent therefore throwing them off their feet. She watched with bated breath to find out if it would work now.

The amnesiac warrior suddenly moved at such a speed that Dharika could not even follow where he was. There was a clang and then suddenly Shishir was landing from his jump with no sword in hand. He was holding the wrist of his sword hand and hissing. The warrior was standing with his sword hilt pointed to the back of Shishir’s neck. In his other hand was Shishir’s sword thrusted forward into Shishir’s underarm. Both places of contact berefit of armor.

For a moment everyone watching was spellbound. Slowly the applause started. The amnesiac warrior was returning Shishir’s sword and patting him on the back. There was a sense of pride in Shishir’s face when he turned to Dharika and she smiled at him.

She then looked at the other warrior who was now staring at the ground, head bowed with a grieved expression on his face. He then walked towards Dharika and gave her his sword, “As you said. This one is not knocked cold” and started walking away from the ring.

Dharika had half a mind to call after him, but his expression made her halt. There was a sea of emotions on his face and none of them were good. It seemed as if this man remembered something else along with his sword skills. And that something was not pleasant.

Ah Hermit, now I begin to understand why you have made him forget his past. Some memories are best kept forgotten.

She turned and started walking towards her quarters with a hopeful expression on her face. The hermit had indeed been true to his word. She smiled at that.

An Empire in its full force was slowly approaching towards her destroying everything in its path. And she would stand in the way of that vicious torrent. Now alongside her would stand another man, a warrior skilled enough to take on a God.

********************* ******************* *********************

PART 5:

“Stop it you fool”, cried Murad as he ran towards the group of soldiers surrounding the children. “What in God’s name are you doing? Don’t you see those are only children.”

“Step back Historian. Do not get in our way or we have to report you as an accidental casualty” growled the captain.

They had come upon a tribal settlement deep inside the forest on their march. The outriders had made swift work of the men who offered little to no resistance. The looting had begun and the women and children were pushed into a group at the center of the settlement. The soldiers had then dragged the women into the huts and had their way with them one by one. Now only the children remained.

One squad of the soldiers, blinded with bloodlust was moving towards the huddled children with swords drawn. Murad had got in their way trying to stop their violent designs.

“I said stand down captain. Or the Wazir will hear of this”, Murad barked knowing full well that was an empty threat.

“You’ll inform the Wazir eh”, the captain spat at Murad’s feet and grinned, “There, here he comes, go and complain and let’s see what he says.”

Murad turned and saw the Emperor’s retinue approach the settlement. He ran to the Grand Wazir and started with pleading eyes, “Wazir, please ask the soldiers to stop what they are about to do” and gestured towards the children.

The Wazir narrowed his eyes in that direction and turned to Murad, “Why Historian, our soldiers have been toiling hard on this march. Having a little fun on the way does no harm I would imagine.”

Murad winced, “Grand Wazir, our soldiers have already had their fun with the men and women of the tribe. I would ask you to spare the children. There is great sin in spilling of innocent blood.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Historian. I would advise you not to get in the soldiers way. If you are still interested to save them, do go ahead. Isn’t that a sword you carry at your belt?”

As Murad stood pondering about the Wazir’s open challenge, a tall figure started walking from the Emperor’s retinue on towards the children and the soldiers. A sword got unsheathed and before anyone could realize what was going on, the soldiers standing in front of the children were getting cut down brutally. Ashubhai was among them moving at an inhuman speed. The soldiers could do nothing but watch and fall helplessly as the mighty sword flashed in a deadly arc of destruction.

When the last of those soldiers fell, the Emperor’s bodyguards mustered some courage to advance and surround the old man. Ashubhai turned towards the Wazir and started walking sword still in hand. Murad noticed the old man’s eyes were starting to glow with a shade of red, his face a mask of fury and the sword in his hand was buzzing. The guards were now half-heartedly moving alongside with the man with slim hopes of keeping him surrounded.

As Murad was watching in stunned silence, a small figure ran past him towards the old man. Murad realized who that was and cried, “Gopal, you fool. Get back here before you get yourself killed.”

Gopal was in no mind to listen as he ran to the old man, pushing himself in between the guardsmen, much to their confusion. After reaching the old man, he started whispering something to him. To which the glow in Ashubhai’s eyes receded and a calm expression came about his face. He nodded towards Gopal and raised his hands into the air.

“You can stand down. Enough blood has been spilt today”, he called out in a deep high pitched voice sheathing his sword. The men surrounding him breathed a sigh of relief and made their way back to the retinue putting back their weapons.

Ashubhai stood in front of the Wazir’s horse with a stern look on his face. “Rein in your men Wazir. If this repeats again, then you shall have more of your own soldiers to bury”.

Even seated atop a horse, the Wazir was not at a height advantage as Ashubhai was almost level with him standing erect. The Wazir seemed to cower and melt in into his horse. He managed to croak his response, “Very well Ashubhai. I will make sure none of this happens again”. Murad saw the Wazir give out a sigh of relief as the old man walked back to his horse.

Where was the Emperor amidst all of this, Murad wondered and turned to the retinue’s center.

Yes there he is, the Great Emperor Mahmud of the Ghavinzads. Wait, does he look shaken. And is that fear I am seeing in the man’s face. Now that’s a rare occurrence.

                                ************** ******************* *****************

After a while when they had resumed their march, Murad sought out Gopal and came up next to him. Gopal was in his usual cheerful self, “That was pretty close right friend?”

“Close indeed. You were about to get yourself killed along with your master. What sort of a madman would charge unarmed like that”

“Sorry to say Historian, but if I hadn’t charged up foolishly towards my master, most likely he would’ve killed your Wazir and maybe even the Emperor.”

Murad’s eyes widened in surprise, “Are you serious, Gopal?”

“Did you see Ashubhai’s eyes turning red as he was killing those wicked soldiers?”

“Yes it did seem strange. What of it?”

“You see, my master has a power within him. Whenever he gets angry, a dark force passes over him. He becomes the physical embodiment of an Elder God’s rage. This rage makes him forget everything and everyone around him. He then starts destroying everything in his path. And during that stage, his body becomes indestructible. Nothing can harm him, not swords, arrows or spears. His eyes then start glowing red with rage”

“The rage is pure, the rage is all consuming, the rage does not differentiate between friend or foe, ally or enemy. It just destroys. The rage calms down only when there is nobody left around to destroy. Now tell me historian, what good are mortal weapons against such a rage. You really think your soldiers would stand against the wrath of a God?”

Murad gulped nervously and asked, “So back in your village against the deserters, was that why he locked you all when he began to fight. He was not protecting you from them, but from himself. ”

Gopal could only nod in agreement.

Murad continued, “That still doesn’t explain why you ran towards him rather than away from him then?”

Gopal answered with a faint smile, “It seems somehow I am the only one who can calm down that rage. I do not know how it’s possible but I can get him back to normal as you witnessed today”.

Murad wondered at the gravity of the threat that had been diffused by this boy today. He remembered those glowing eyes looking towards him back then. He had turned away unable to face the weight of power in them.

Gopal had indeed been correct. In those eyes he had seen a face. A face marked full of devastation and wrath. He had indeed seen the face of RUDRA.

************* ********************** *****************

PART 6:

“Pull back. Get back you fools”, shouted Dharika as she dragged a couple of boys with her behind the trenches.

The fighting begun all of a sudden as Persians started pouring in from the tunnels. This was not supposed to happen so soon. The tunnels should have made them lose their way. She should’ve had much more time to make better preparations. Now that the moment was before them, Dharika hoped whatever training she had imparted should have to do to hold the enemy back.

The initial wave of Persian archers caught many of her youngsters unawares. The ones guarding the tunnel entrances went down under a heap of arrows. By the time anyone realized what happened, the Persians had already entered her cavern and few more of her boys went down. The persian archers were now advancing into the cavern. It took a yell from Dharika to diffuse the chaos rendered among her soldiers by this sudden onslaught. Now one by one her boys recovered and were dashing towards the trenches and pits dug as part of their defensive strategy.

After all of her remaining soldiers had retreated, Dharika signalled her own archers to put up a counter attack. She saw as the teenagers were already moving in place up onto the ledges and the platforms created solely for this purpose. Slowly the Suryaputra archers were showing their superiority in skill as the Persian archers were falling back from the rain of quarrels that were showered upon them from her end of the cavern.

Dharika knew it was never a question of skill and training. Whatever she had taught these youngsters would be enough to best any army in the world. But the problem always was strength in numbers. Sadly now, the Suryaputras being lesser in number would pose a severe disadvantage. She prayed to the patron of their tribe, the Sun God that before this battle is done her tribe should survive even at the cost of her life. You hear me God, let that be your fair trade. My life for theirs.

The enemy archers had now fallen back and then she saw the Persian infantry move forward in a shield wall. These were heavy shields, bigger and squarer than before, large enough to cover an entire soldier’s silhouette. This could prove a problem as now the archer’s arrows were rendered ineffective by the shields. The Persians were now advancing slowly in a turtle formation with shields covering their heads too. Dharika signalled her soldiers to move behind the trenches and her own infantry formed up on her with shields up. The tranches would make the enemy break formation and that was when she would attack these smaller groups. She turned back as someone called to her. The amnesiac warrior was now making his way with spear in hand.

“Dharikaji, what position should I take up?” he asked while gazing at the turtle shields marching forward.

“You will be positioned far back warrior. You will be standing just before the archway leading into the throne room. These bastards will definitely come for the throne and its upto you to put up our last line of defence”.

“But Dharikaji, I can help you here. I have led men before and there would be much I can do in the frontlines rather than behind”, he replied with an injured look.

“I understand that very well warrior, but my order is final. God forbid if we all go down here, you will be the only one standing in the way of these wretched Persians. Take as many men as you need and stay put there”, she almost bellowed the last part.

The warrior nodded and turned back dejected. Dharika winced but turned forward towards the enemy. There was a lot to be done here still. And she would not go down without a proper fight.

As the enemy reached the trenches they started to break formation. Dharika signalled her soldiers to advance and the Suryaputras charged towards the Persian infantry. The enemy now broken into smaller units did not pose much of a threat as her boys threw themselves at them like lions attacking a group of deer. Metals clanged as swords locked with shields and within no time the front lines of the Persian infantry were cut down and the enemy was falling back behind the trenches. She then signalled her soldiers to retreat again. Let’s see how many times I can repeat that with minimal casualties she wondered.

She sent out another signal for her archers and they started raining arrows on the retreating enemy infantry. Many caught the fleeing Persians dropping them dead. ‘So far so good’, she thought as not many dead were reported from the Suryaputra ranks barring the initial attack.

She signalled for her own shield infantry to advance as slowly the Suryaputra line surged forward shields locked and swords drawn out. The enemy infantry was also reforming their own line and they stood shields locked in their place. Oh God, this is going to get dirty.

The enemy met the Suryaputra line head on and the push began. Swords snaked in between the shields from both sides taking down men amidst clangs, howls and shrieks. The wounded were being pulled back and their subsequent line moved forward to close in the gaps. Dharika realized this would not do for long. The lopsided numbers meant the Persians could afford to sacrifice their men but she didn’t have that privilege.

She signalled for her men to fall back again. “Back, back to the trenches. Retreat” she roared. No more advancing in formations now. They would try to lure the enemy over the trenches and repeat the same strategy as before.

The soldiers slowly retracted back still in formation as the enemy also advanced breaking formation surprised at the Suryaputra retreat. Her soldiers were now moving swiftly behind the trenches haphazardly. Some of the Persian front line soldiers followed them thinking the Suryaputras were running back and the moment they crossed the trenches her boys were on them again. With no shield formation to defend them, the Suryaputra swordsmen tore them apart without mercy.

Her own infantry then formed a protective shield line in anticipation of an enemy archer attack but thankfully the Persians were busy regrouping and rethinking their strategies now. The enemy commanders had to have realized the trenches were the main hurdle and it would not be long for them to overcome this.

Dharika sent back messengers to inform the rest of her soldiers to stay alert and hold back maintaining defensive positions. Nobody was to attack unless she ordered them to. The cavern floor was now strewn with considerable number of enemy bodies starting immediately from front of the trenches all the way upto the Persian lines. Amidst all this madness and bloodshed, Dharika and her Suryaputras waited for the Persians to make their move again.

After a while she heard movement from the Persian ranks. They were stirring again forming lines. The shield formation of the Persians moved forward using the same strategy again. Dharika sensed a growing impatience among her soldiers, “Stay alert. Something doesn’t seem right this time”, she called out. The Persian shield wall was now moving in random directions, coming forward, moving to the sides and falling back again.

“What are these bastards upto?” one of her soldiers asked. “Maybe they lost their minds in the tunnels”, quipped another in response evoking mild laughter. Yes, what are these people doing? She again scanned the cavern floor and suddenly she realized.

Dharika gestured towards the cavern floor. “Look, they have taken the bodies. All of their dead are with them now.”

“But why Dharikaji, do the Persians honor their dead comrades to this extent?” one of the voices next to her asked.

“These wretches do not have any inkling of honor. So let’s wait and watch what happens”, she replied with a hint of doubt.

As Dharika watched, the Persian shield wall now moved forward. Seeing no counter from the Suryaputra ranks, they continued marching until they reached the edge of the first of the trenches. The shields slightly opened up and corpses started tumbling out into the pits through these gaps. The other trenches were also being filled with Persian dead bodies now.

Gods above.

”These demons are closing the trenches with their own dead soldiers”, she yelled as the Persian shield wall now started crossing over the first of the corpse filled trenches and started filling the next line of pits.

“Move move, do not let them near the next trenches. If they succeed then nothing will stop their shield wall. Archers shoot at will. Frontlines, converge and charge”, she signalled to her soldiers.

The arrows whizzed past but most of them could not penetrate the shields. And she saw the Persian archers were now positioned behind the shields and firing arrows at the advancing Suryaputras. Some of the boys raised their shields but many fell to the arrows. Dharika winced and cursed her luck. Damn it was all going so well. And now the slaughter begins.

****************** **************** ****************

PART 7:

The Persian shield wall now was slowly trudging forward covering all the trenches with corpses. Murad stared in bewilderment at the massive disrespect being shown to those dead soldiers.

He then looked at the cold eyes of the Grand Wazir standing next to him observing the ongoing battle. It was viciousness at an entirely different scale the Wazir displayed in coming up with this strategy.

“Well Goddamit, fill those holes with something. Stones, shields whatever. I don’t care if you stuff those pits with our own dead. Just move forward”, he had ordered.

And dead soldiers it had been, much to Murad’s chagrin.

He had initially been surprised at discovering the last of the Suryaputras were nothing but teenagers. Young boys and girls who probably hadn’t drawn swords until this very day. But after witnessing them in action, he was reminded again of the Wazir’s words regarding these people’s martial prowess. True to those words, these youngsters were making sport of the Persian ranks attacking with such skill and valour that it didn’t matter who among them was holding a sword the first time.

As Murad observed the frontlines clashing, the Wazir gestured towards the enemy ranks.

“Look at the enemy lines Historian. You see a woman standing there amidst all the children. That’s their commander. A very dangerous woman. Once she goes down, our path is as good as littered with flowers”, he said with a hint of smile.

Murad squinted at the direction the Wazir was pointing. Yes there he saw. A woman barking orders at everyone around her. She didn’t look much from where he was seeing. Middle aged with a lithe and muscular frame, same as any other soldier until his eyes fell to the sword she unsheathed from her belt.

Wait this looks familiar. Where have I seen something like this. Ah yes, the old man Ashubhai also carries a similar blade but much larger.

As he was pondering with eyes fixed on the woman, she let out a huge roar and got out of the Suryaputra lines to leap on the Persian shield walls. She then dived right into their midst. As Murad gaped with mouth wide open, there was a score of shrieks from where the woman had jumped into. He saw Persian bodies fall limp like rag dolls as that sword cleaved through all of them in a destructive blaze. The woman was moving at such speed that his eyes could not follow all of her movements and within no time she had single handedly cut down 30 or 40 of soldiers and created a deep gash into the Persian shield walls.

She then signalled to her soldiers and the Suryaputras leapt into this gap and were now cutting deep into the Persian lines. His men had now thrown all level of discipline to the wind and were now engaging these soldiers. Formations broke, shield walls disbanded, this was turning into a full fledged brawl.

The cavern was echoing with sounds of battle, iron clashing against steel, weapons ringing against shields, screams of anger and pain echoing off the thick stone walls.

Murad observed that the Persians had advanced almost halfway to the cavern towards the archway where this priced throne was supposed to be kept. There had been a lot of corpses strewn across the cavern, bodies belonging to both sides lay unmoving with glazed eyes staring into oblivion.

Murad grimaced.

We have come all this way to kill children, innocent lives snubbed in such violent end. All because of one man’s greed. If there is a hell in the afterlife, each one of us will be going straight to it.

He turned and saw the final wave soldiers stride into the cavern followed by the Emperor’s retinue which was last to enter accompanied by Gopal and Ashubhai. Murad suddenly realized that this was the last of all their soldiers.

Gods, they had lost almost 5000 men just to gain half of this cavern.

Doubts started creeping his mind whether the Persians will really survive this. He saw the woman commander fighting like a being possessed and the youths alongside her looked like little demons feasting on the Persian soldiers. Swords blurred, blood splattered and howls rose from the Persian groups and swiftly they were broken apart. The last wave plunged headlong into the battle and the Persians were somehow reforming their lines slowly pushing back the Suryaputras.

“Shouldn’t take long now. We have routed them this time”, the Wazir was saying to the Emperor pointing towards the archway. “And there awaits our prize.”

He then saw Ashubhai walk towards one of the dead Suryaputra corpses. He started trembling as he stared into those dead eyes, blood leaking from a puncture wound to the head. The old man turned towards the Wazir and the Emperor.

“You are killing children now. I will not have any part of this. Call back your men or I shall have to do it myself”, he warned unsheathing his sword.

The Emperor glared at the old man, “Tell me old man, do you think we really will turn back coming so close to this price. A prize we have in our grasp after all the lives it has taken. No I will not be denied what is rightfully earned by my hand.”

The Wazir now stepped forward, “Ashubhai, we promised you a cure for your ailment. Now step aside for a while and I shall ensure our end of the bargain is entertained. Get in our way and the deal is off.” 

Ashubhai grimaced, “Now that I have seen the cost of my bargain, I am no longer interested”. He then started moving towards the Emperor.

“Not so fast”, shouted the Emperor. “We anticipated your non-cooperation. We have our own methods to get you out of our way old man” and he gestured at his guards.

Murad gaped in horror as four of the Emperor’s body guards walked forward holding a limp body between them, Gopal. The old man gasped at this, “Put him down”, he bellowed, “That poor boy has nothing to do with our deal.”

The Emperor smirked, “You got in our way. We are hence forced to make our own amends. If you really so wish to save the boy’s life, then please go after him” and signalled to his guards.

Murad could only watch from the sidelines as the guards carried Gopal towards the raging battle and then toss him up into the air towards the Suyaputra ranks like a rag doll.

His mind started filling with so much disgust and anguish that he did not register the scream of the old man somewhere behind him.

******************************** ************************************

All around her Dharika saw death. The fighting had engulfed the entire cavern floor now. The enemy had crossed the trenches and were pushing hard trying to pin the Suryaputras to a corner. She would not let that happen.

Dharika had fought as if she was on fire, she had fought for all the warriors who had fallen alongside her, she had fought for all the friends and family she had lost. And now here she was fighting the same battle all alone all over again. She knew she couldn’t keep this up for long. Fatigue had already taken her body. Soon she would break and then depart to join her dead kin.

She gritted her teeth and attacked the nearest group of Persians, colliding into them in a cacophony of ringing shields and buzzing swords. She dodged slashes and thrusts, cutting, slicing, chopping her way as more and more Persians seemed to join the fray. Gods how many are there totally.

A flash of pain to her left thigh and she was staggered to one side almost losing her balance. A sword had found its way to her leg and now blood was streaming out from the cut. The sword hand was now again trying to reach out and she got her sword in time to sever the wrist clean off resulting in a wild shriek of pain somewhere.

Her boys now had surrounded Dharika and were defending her with everything they had. They were being severely outnumbered. Dharika realized she was just dead weight unless she got back up. Biting her tongue she stood heaving her sword again. Most of her defenders were either engaged elsewhere or fallen already.

Guess it’s only me now.

As she charged forward, it seemed she was again surrounded from every side. The bastards seem to be targeting only me. As she started engaging the score of persians surrounding her, she realized her time was soon going to end. The blood loss and fatigue had already weakend her and the persians kept on pressing no matter how many she had killed. More stabs and cuts caressed her in shallow ribbons of pain.

When it was almost certain that she could take no more and got ready for the final glorious flourish, a stray hand tugged her armor from behind and she found herself being pulled back away from the surrounded Persians.

The amnesiac warrior now plunged headlong into their midst, his spear moving at a blur slashing and stabbing at the persians. The man fought like in a trance taking down heads, shoulders, hands and legs with such grace and finesse that Dharika felt the man was dancing instead of fighting. A very brutal dance indeed.

As the last of the soldiers went down, he turned to Dharika and offered his hand to get her up. She winced and took his hand climbing to her feet.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay back warrior? What business did you have charging like that pushing me aside?” she asked the man who was staring at her in disbelief.

“From where I was watching, it seemed like you needed help. So here I am”, he answered with a smile.

“As much as I am grateful for you being here, please get back to your position. The battle is far from over. The torrent of Persians seem endless.”

“No look there”, he pointed towards the tunnel entrances from which the enemy were pouring. Dharika turned and saw that there were not many Persian soldiers remaining. Wow, we have greatly diminished their numbers.

Only one big group stood there which upon closer look she realized was the Emperor himself. That bastard has shown himself finally after all these years.

And next to him standing at some distance was a giant of a man looking at some dead corpse. There were some words being exchanged there which she could not make much sense a midst the sounds of battle.

She again turned to the amnesiac warrior, “That’s the Emperor of the Persians himself. The bastard is the root cause for all of this grief and bloodshed. I intend to part his head from those shoulders today”.

The warrior’s eyes narrowed as he was watching the Emperor’s group, “Gods, what’s happening there now?”

Dharika turned just in time to see a boy being thrown into the midst of fighting by the Persian soldiers. And then somewhere near the Emperor’s group she heard a frightful scream.

Oh my God what is that power that has just awakened.

She turned to the amnesiac warrior, “Quick round up as many of the remaining youngsters and fall back behind me. A most grave force has been unleashed here. I will try my best to hold it back. If I fail please escape with as many children as you can” she asked him with pleading eyes.

“I shall do as you say Dharikaji”, he responded and walked back signalling everyone near him to follow him.

Dharika turned in time to see the giant man staggering forward towards the spot where the boy would’ve landed. She felt a wave of power emanating from that man growing with each step he took. The Persian soldiers had now stopped fighting and were standing very clear of this man, moving back slowly towards their emperor clearing the cavern floor. They seemed keener to get out of this man’s way than fight. The man then reached the small body now lying motionless on the floor, crouched down and prodded it.

The man then straightened heaving his giant sword as a high pitched buzzing hit Dharika, pushing her a step back. She caught sight of the man’s eyes. A deep red glow was emanating from them and along with the glow she saw a vicious rage. Those raging eyes now looked to where her last surviving Suryaputras stood huddled. The man then started moving towards them. Saying her last prayers, she heaved her own sword and stood in his path.

Turning towards her warriors, “No matter what happens to me, none of you will interfere in this fight. If I go down, all of you RUN”, she cried looking at those faces maybe for the last time.

The man suddenly raised his sword and surged at her, the weapon flashed in blinding speed. Dharika caught the sword just in time and she countered with a slash high intending to take the man’s head. But suddenly that sword was there again blocking her slash with enough force to rattle her bones.

My God. That sword made with the same metal as my blade. This is not going to go well for me.

It took all her skill and experience to tackle this man’s blade. No matter what move she used, the man easily deflected or dodged her sword with ease. When it seemed like she was holding her own against him, the man’s other hand reached out to her, lifting her off her feet and before she knew it, Dharika was flying through the air crashing into a wall. She grimaced and got up to her feet to realize the man was now again moving towards the Suryaputra huddle.

Dharika ran and using her full strength, collided into the man’s side before he reached the group. The jolt of the collision threw her down and the man only just stumbled a bit. He then turned to her and before she could recover she found herself again flying through the air straight into the wall again. This time she felt a couple of bones snap as she collided into the stone and could not move.

The man had now turned around by this effort and now stood facing a horde of Persians who suddenly realized they were in his way.

She watched as the red eyed monster plunge into the hapless Persians and let loose a rain of slaughter. Chunks of armour and body parts started flying everywhere, blood sprayed as if in a festival of dread as the Persians were cut down with brutal ferocity.

Bodies were falling, two or three at a time, then four or five and the Persians seemed to melt away in that raging typhoon, toppling, breaking, thrown mercilessly by the sword’s impact. A whirlwind of power was spinning round the cavern and Dharika saw a raging red aura starting to envelope the man. Even at this distance she could feel its destructive force seething through the very stone of the cavern.

A couple of boys had reached her and were now slowly carrying her towards the cavern’s edge where the rest of her soldiers were watching with astonishment and dread as the man continued his gory rampage on the Persians. As they set her down, the healers starting to bind her wounds, she called out to the amnesiac warrior who was watching the onslaught, eyes fixed as if under a spell. He turned to her and crouched down to her side.

“I am afraid I cannot fight anymore. As I told before, please lead everyone out of this cavern and escape. There is no surviving this.” she cried with despair.

The warrior looked at her with a glint in his eyes, “Rest well Dharikaji, you have done all you could.”

He then patted her shoulder and said, “Now where did I keep that spear?” and walked off leaving Dharika dumbfounded.

At once, the seething rage plummeted her and she turned towards the Persian side. The giant man was now standing amidst heaps of corpses and all around him the whirlwind wailed in a bone chilling cry. The man turned around and his blazing eyes looked towards them. He slowly made his way towards them, long strides leaning forward and Dharika felt that rage overpower her.

Gods help us all.

And then suddenly a spear wielding figure launched himself at the man.

******************** ************************** *****************************

Lying crumpled amidst blood soaked bodies, Murad watched motionless as the old man had turned and was striding towards the remaining Suryaputras. He had somehow escaped the carnage that had been unleashed by the old man.

Gopal’s words rang in his head. No, that was not the old man. It was rage, a rage which did not differentiate between friend and foe, innocent or guilty, pure unadulterated rage. The rage of an Elder God. RUDRA.

He was still puzzled how their own soldiers had found themselves in the raging man’s way. And now his entire army had been decimated. He hoped the Emperor was probably lying with his entrails strewn somewhere in this wretched mass of corpses.

Fools. That’s what you deserve when you think you can play with Gods.

And now that rage was looking for more victims to quench its thirst. He saw a foolish Suryaputra warrior charge at the Raging God only armed with a spear. He would not last, not for long, not against this rage, no one could after all. Yet he saw the spearman hold on, displaying a skill so profound, so absolute that Murad found himself holding his breath.

The raging man was attacking with inhuman speed, his sword seemed to be push everywhere at once attacking the other warrior with a barrage of slashes, thrusts and cuts. And each time the other warrior pushed back the sword, laying his own counter attack. To his utter disbelief, the warrior seemed to succeed in halting the rage in its tracks. No matter how much Ashubhai tried, he could not get past.

Now who is this warrior who can face down a God.

Murad saw a glow emerging from the other warrior which seemed to spar with the red rage engulfing Ashubhai. The crystals on the cavern roof were now also pulsing with the same light as the warrior. How strange.

The whirlwind had encircled the two battling warriors as Murad lay there watching them move at blurring speed, faster than his eyes could follow. Finally he saw that the spear starting to splinter and crack amidst the heap of hacks by the sword.

Somewhere to his side, a faint weeping sound was audible. He turned to that side to see the Grand Wazir huddled against a wall, sobbing.

You wanted all of this right. Now live with this you bastard.

Another crack drew his attention back to the battle as he saw the spear shaft getting shattered. The glowing warrior then leapt backwards avoiding a killing slash that would’ve definitely beheaded him. The Raging God howled with such sound that Murad felt the air kicked out of his lungs. He then strode forwards towards the unarmed warrior.

***************************** **************************** **************

“HERE TAKE MINE”, shouted Dharika as she threw her sword at the amnesiac warrior’s direction. The warrior had just dodged a deadly blow and caught her sword mid-air to engage the giant again.

She still couldn’t believe how this warrior had held back the raging giant. Not only did he hold back the berserker, but he had moved into the offensive with such skill and technique that tears had formed in her eyes.

There that strange glow again coming from him.

And now he was exhibiting remarkable swordsmanship pushing the giant back. Their blades moving in blinding flashes as metal rang against metal, both warriors moving at speeds getting difficult to even follow. The amnesiac warrior had launched his own barrage of strokes, cuts and slices sending the old man reeling back with brutal tenacity.

Next thing she saw, the warrior had landed a killing blow on the giant but instead of falling, the giant was flying back through the air. He then shook his head and got up on his feet, charging again with renewed vigour. The amnesiac warrior threw himself at the giant man. Again they engaged in ferocious speed and again at the end of it, another killing blow and again the giant flew back instead of dying.

He then turned towards Dharika with a startled look, “Who in the world is this man? He should’ve died twice now already.”

She could only shake her head and blink.

The giant now came close and lifting his sword he charged again. The amnesiac warrior was showing such unmatched skill that Dharika finally felt that this battle had turned its tide.

So this is the true strength of a Maharathi. Gods bless me to witness such a feat.

A clash and again the giant fell flat to his back. But again he rose, the glow in his eyes had intensified into a hue of dark crimson indicating the rage was reaching its peak.

The giant threw down his sword, looked around and picked up a bow and quiver from one of the Persian corpses. He then started firing off arrows towards the amnesiac warrior who just in time managed to pull up a shield lying around.

As the barrage continued from the giant’s bow, she saw the warrior slice and deflect the arrows being fired in mid-air with the sword much to her astonishment.

He then whistled to one of the Suryaputra bowmen and the youngster  threw her bow and quiver to him.

Thus began a bombardment of arrows back and forth between the giant and the amnesiac warrior. It was clear to Dharika that both of them were equally matched in skill. Both of them were dodging, jumping, running all the while firing arrows never once taking their eyes off each other.

Leave aside their swordsmanship, this display of marksmanship was at an entirely different level that reminded Dharika of celestial battles between Gods.

The Red rage was now slowly getting overwhelmed by the warrior’s glow and the whirlwind had now turned into a tornado of wrath moving even faster than before.

They are shooting each other’s arrows in mid-air. Gods I hope that I am not turning insane .

The giant suddenly pulled up another bow from a body, held both the bows together in one hand and started shooting arrows from both simultaneously.

The amnesiac smiled at the giant, “I can play that game better my friend”. Then she saw him equipping 3 arrows together in his bow in a single shot and the onslaught continued.

It was now the giant’s turn to dodge as the amnesiac warrior flooded the cavern with a volley of arrows. Dharika could not even read how quickly the warrior was pulling out multiple arrows and letting them loose with a wry smirk in his face.

As Dharika stared dumbfounded along with all of her soldiers, the warrior turned to her and shouted –“This cannot go on for much longer. I will try to end this now”.

Before she could comprehend his words, she saw the amnesiac warrior pull up the empty string bow, mumble something and take aim. She gasped when an arrow magically appeared out of nowhere onto the empty bow. She knew what this was, A DIVYASTRA – celestial weapons used by Gods themselves. Maybe this can stop the Giant and his raw power.

The whirlwind now moved at unbelievable speeds ready to gobble up the whole cavern.

***************** **************** ***********************

Murad was gazing dumbfounded at the ongoing battle. The Suryaputra warrior had not only managed to beat the raging god thrice with the sword, he was now overpowering him with the arrows.

As he stood marvelling at the Godlike prowess of the Suryaputra warrior, Murad felt a sense of grief. No matter what extraordinary skill the warrior exhibited, the rage could not be killed. The rage would be the last one standing.

Wait, did that warrior just make an arrow appear out of thin air. Astounded, Murad rubbed his eyes in disbelief. This was now truly turning  into a clash among Gods.

 

And when Gods clashed, it was always everyone else around them who faced the brunt. Unfortunately now that meant him and all of the other survivors huddled in the far corner of the cavern.

Suddenly the world seemed to halt all around him. The whirlwind vanished and the seething rage was getting subdued slowly. A small figure appeared engulfed in a golden light and made its way towards the raging god. Murad gaped in amazement at the scene.

As the raging giant stood ready with his next attack, the figure suddenly darted forward and with a slightest of touches, grazed the man’s head. The man toppled as if struck from behind.

The figure now held a hand on the man’s head, looked to the Suryaputra warrior and smiled. Then he turned towards the direction where Murad lay, eyes fixed directly upon him.

A stream of recognition washed over Murad as he saw the figure’s face. GOPAL. No it cannot be. I saw you get thrown off. I saw you lying motionless. How is this possible?

The golden light around the figure was now fading, with the fade the figure and the old man both grew indistinct and then vanished without a trace.

And along with them so did the whirlwind.

********************* ****************** ***************

EPILOGUE:

A fit of coughing stuck him as fresh air entered Murad’s lungs for the first time in days. Behind him the Wazir was doing no better as both staggered onto the forest floor exiting one of those goddamn tunnels.

Murad had managed to scavenge some supplies and food from the dead bodies immediately after the old man and Gopal had disappeared on that fateful day. He had dragged the Grand Wazir back into the tunnels with him before the Suryaputras discovered there were survivors among the Persians.

For days they seemed to wander aimlessly, losing their way, going round in circles again and again until a trail had been made visible to them within that labyrinth. Murad had followed that trail blindly. The Wazir was not much of a company as Murad tried to make conversation with him. Something had broken inside the old man in that cavern. He could only stare blankly without a response at whatever question you threw at him.

And he had followed silently behind Murad nibbling at whatever food stuff he passed to the old man. Now with their food supplies dwindling, they had stumbled upon an opening into the forest.

His took some time to adjust to the sudden burst of daylight and then looked around. They had come out of a steep mountain face and in front of them at some distance Murad could see a stone structure jutting out in the middle of the forest.

Seeing no other options available to him, he took the Wazir by hand and made his way towards the structure hoping that they would not run into any danger there. After a short walk he reached the structure to see that it was an old monastery. Reaching the door of the structure, he observed that the torches hung at the walls were wet with oil. Good. Someone should be present here.

Murad knocked at the huge wooden door twice and then stood back. The Wazir was staring into the walls lifelessly. After a few moments he felt a scuffle of feet on the other side and the door creaked open to reveal an old Hindu monk staring at him.

“Please sir. We are lost. My friend and I have been wandering in the forest for days. Could you please let us in?” he asked the monk with pleading eyes.

The monk took a good fine look at Murad, then at the Grand Wazir. Then he pushed the door open, and stood aside gesturing them to come inside.

“You both don’t seem to be from this land”, he said with a gruffy voice.

“Yes we were with a merchant party travelling through this forest. We got waylaid by dacoits midway. Me and my companion managed to escape somehow and we have been wandering aimlessly until now” he lied with a guilt ridden voice. “What is this place, kind sir?” he asked.

“This is an old temple dedicated to Lord Vishnu. Me and few other monks have made it into our ashram. Let us find some food for you to eat, then I shall take you on a tour of the place. Anyhow it’s not like I am busy or anything”, he smiled and strode forward.

Murad followed him pulling the Wazir after the monk. “Much appreciated kind sir.”

“I see your companion doesn’t speak much. Is he a mute?”

Murad winced. “Unfortunately no. He saw his family slain by the dacoits. That seem to have made him lose his mind”, he lied again.

“That’s sad to hear. May god give him the strength to attain peace.”

Murad almost laughed at that, but somehow managed to turn it into a cough. This wretched creature deserves every bit of misfortune thrown at him.

They were led into the inner chambers of the monastery until they reached the kitchens. Here the monk served them some Indian bread and rice along with a gravy. Murad didn’t complain as he gorged on those meagre offerings as though a man possessed. The Wazir nibbled with disdain.

After their humble meal, the monk showed them around the monastery. It was a huge building fully constructed in stone. There were huge corridors and halls filled with sculptures and carvings etched out into the stone itself. Most of them depicted hindu gods and scenes from their mythology. Other walls were strewn with paintings and tapestries with similar scenes. Being an historian, Murad recalled his study of Hindu mythology from the Emperor’s library as he recognized many of these scenes.

“This is an ancient place my friends”, the monk was explaining as they walked. “Many of these paintings and sculptures span hundreds of years old. Such talent and skill is indeed remarkable of the ancient people.”

As they passed towards one of the corridors, the Wazir stopped suddenly gaping at one of the paintings. Murad turned back to see what had caught the man’s eyes. He was staring at one of the paintings. The monk realizing they had stopped turned and walked back to them.

 

“Ah, an interesting scene your friend is gazing upon. This scene is from the last day of the Kurukshetra War. Here you see the warrior Ashwattaama begging forgiveness from Lord Krishna by handing out the sacred gem of his forehead in surrender.”

Murad’s eyes widened his disbelief as he stared at the faces in the painting. Whatever the monk was saying got muted as a wave of recognition stormed into his head. That face was smiling in the painting too, like it was in real life. The same grey skin with a hue of blue. That same attraction in the eyes. This is GOPAL.

Murad then turned to observe the other warrior. Yes. The same face with but weathered for few more years. That wound on the forehead. “Ashubhai”, he mumbled, “Ashwatthama”.

The Wazir had now dropped to his knees and begun wailing loudly. Tears welled up in Murad’s eyes as he stood there staring at those faces.

******************** ********************* **********************

A shot of pain still ran through her body as Dharika tried to sit up. The hermit was sitting in the platform opposite, watching her.

The aftermath of the battle had been painful and grief stricken. There were around 300 Suryaputras who had survived the battle out of the thousand. Prayers were offered and pyres were being arranged for the last rites of all the fallen. Those innocent faces had lost all of their innocence in a single day.

The hermit smiled as she finally sat up. She grimaced, “You definitely look cheery, hermit.”

“Considering the events transpired Dharika, you and your people have actually come out in flying colors.”

She scowled with a look that could kill the man. “The Suryaputras almost got annihilated and you say we won. You have still not stopped mocking me Hermit.”

“You comprehend the scale of danger you faced. Had that force been allowed to let loose, things would have gotten far more disturbing.”

Dharika was shocked, “So you knew exactly what we had to face out there?”

“The Persian Emperor yes. The Raging God, maybe”, he replied dryly.

Dharika winced and tried to get up. She did not want to meet the hermit’s eyes wanted to move as far away as possible from him.

“I fully well understand the feeling I see in your eyes Dharika. And I do not blame you. I deserve each and every ounce of that”, he responded trying to help her to her feet.

“Well blame games are not going to bring back all the lives lost now, do they Hermit?” she asked with a cruel look.

The hermit sighed. “You are well aware that their lives were surrendered the moment you took their vow and made them part of this war. And war always has consequences, always has victims.”

“But what we saw out there. That was not war. It was a massacre. How could anyone even fight that thing?”

At this the hermit sighed again. “You did well to shield your people there Dharika. It pleases me to know that you were ready to lay down your life fully aware that you would not win.”

“I have not lost my humanity to send out children against that monster Hermit. It was rather fortunate that none of them got to face that man.”

“So you now agree that my help was adequate?” the hermit asked with an innocent smile.

“Yes Hermit. My utmost gratefulness for that. Your warrior is the sole reason my people are still drawing breath. Heck, if I knew what he was capable of, I would’ve thrown him into the fray before it even started”.

“And saved yourself from a few broken bones I would imagine”, he asked to which she could but reply with a laugh.

“Come now. Let us go see that warrior. I have to get him back his memory after all.”

Dharika trudged forward slowly as the hermit took her weight and they moved out passing rooms tending to other wounded until they reached the cavern.

The amnesiac warrior was sitting on one of the boulders adjacent to the cavern walls staring at a spear he held in his hands.

The hermit whispered to her as they approached the man, “Are you not curious as to the identity of this warrior?”

She replied, “Very much Hermit. I would very much like to know the name of the man to whom the Suryaputras would be forever indebted.”

“Well here goes”, and they both turned towards the warrior.

“Good to see you again warrior”, the hermit waved in greeting.

“And you too hermit”, the man bowed in response. And he turned towards Dharika, “Good to see you on your feet Dharikaji. Hope you are well rested from your ordeal.”

“Indeed I have been”, answered Dharika. “You saved us. You saved us all back there. You have the undying gratitude of the entire Suryaputra tribe Warrior.”

The man shrugged in answer. “This hermit called me for my help. So I have only done my duty here. No gratitude needed Dharikaji.”

The hermit moved forward a step. “Thank you for heeding my call Warrior. You have done well even considering the magnitude of danger we have faced. A true justice to your already glorious name.”

Dharika blinked with astonishment. Glorious name it must be then. Afterall a Maharathi.

The hermit continued, “Tell me Warrior. Are you ready to find out who you are?”

The warrior stood silently and then replied, “I am ready.”

The hermit strode forward and placed his hand on the warriors forehead. The man closed his eyes and after a few moments almost slumped as if some humongous weight had just fallen on his shoulders. He then opened his eyes and stared at the hermit.

The hermit smiled and said, “Tell me warrior, do you know who I am?”

“Yes. You are Bhargava Rama. Also known as Parashurama. One of the mightiest warriors to walk this land. A Chiran-jeevin and my teacher.”, saying he prostrated in front of the hermit.

“Very well, now tell me warrior. Do you know who you are?”

“Yes”, he answered and told them both his name.

Dharika’s jaw dropped. The hermit turned to her with a smile, “Hidden intentions remember. Who better to protect the Suryaputras than an actual child of the Sun God”.

Of course it had to be. The tragic look on his face. The luminescent light glowing from his body. There could not have been anyone else.

She could only stare in stunned silence at probably the greatest warrior ever to walk the lands. A true Maharathi who had faced down armies in their thousands in his time.

Gods had trembled before this man and here she was, probably not even worthy enough to stand on his shadow let alone fight by his side. 

 Tears streamed down her face as the warrior’s name echoed loudly in her head.

KARNA. SURYAPUTRA KARNA.

****************** ******************** ***************