The Guardians of the Halahala

by Shatrujeet Nath

  “Samrat, please don’t go out there alone,” the captain pleaded, falling in step a little behind the king. “I have four hundred of my men waiting to ride with you. Please take them along.”

  “Yes, samrat,” enjoined Sadguna, who was trailing Angamitra’s heels. “It isn’t wise going out there alone. Let the samsaptakas fight by your side.”

  Vikramaditya shook his head firmly, without breaking his stride or glancing back at the captain and the chief of the Palace Guards.

  “Samrat, please,” Angamitra desperately tried reasoning. “Councilor Kalidasa would never forgive me if he learned that I allowed you to ride out alone. The men I have picked are the very best, your honor. You have my word that they will fight until their last breath...”

  “I have never doubted a samsaptaka's willingness and ability to fight, captain,” the king cut in, slowing his pace by a fraction. “And I am certain the men you have put at my disposal will make Avanti proud. But if they accompany me right now, they will be less of a help and more of a handicap for me.”

  Crestfallen, Angamitra fell silent. Sensing the captain’s disappointment, Vikramaditya stopped and turned to face him and Sadguna.

  “There’s a reason I want to ride out of Ujjayini’s gates alone,” the king explained, pointing in a southerly direction. “On dark nights like this, it’s hard to tell the difference between friend and foe, and one could easily end up maiming one’s own people in battle. When I’m out there in the darkness of the plain, I want to be sure that I have only Avanti’s enemies around me. Only then will I be free to use my swords without fear, to bring pain and punishment on the Ashvins.”

  ***

  The walkway along Ujjayini’s western wall was slippery and uneven from years of peacetime neglect. Loose stones sloped treacherously in places, while in others, pools of green slime and moss deposits flourished. Not the safest of places in broad daylight, the walkway was a virtual deathtrap at night, yet Kshapanaka sprinted over it unmindful of the dangers, shouting out instructions and shooting volleys of arrows over the battlements as she ran.

  “Keep the enemy away from the gate. Don’t let them breach it.”

  Below her, outside the city’s western gate, the steps leading up from the Kshipra were full of Ashvins trying to batter their way into Ujjayini.

  The coordinated assaults in the north, east and south were spectacular in effect, but the main thrust of the Ashvin attack had occurred to the west, under cover of darkness. A large force of Ashvins had floated down the river, and as the diversionary arrows descended elsewhere over Ujjayini, they had launched a sudden onslaught on the western gate.

  Thud.

  Yet another wave of heavy metal shields collided against the wooden gate, sending tremors along the framework of the old wall. Kshapanaka cursed under her breath. The City Watch had been caught flatfooted, and if the Ashvins got past the gates, she knew there weren’t enough swordsmen and lancers inside to withstand a rush.

  “Have you sent word asking for reinforcements?” she demanded of the captain who was tasked with manning that section of the wall. “And have they started evacuating the houses?”

  “Yes,” the captain answered, but the vagueness of his reply did nothing to reassure Kshapanaka. However, looking over her shoulder, she was relieved to see a few soldiers herding a flock of scared citizens down the road, away from the gate.

  Thud... Thud...

  The echoes of the shields crashing on wood reverberated along the walkway, escalating in pitch, insistence and hostility with every subsequent attempt. Kshapanaka snapped an order at the captain.

  “I’m running out of arrows – fetch me some. And get someone to supply fresh arrows to all the archers.”

  The captain scurried away to do as bidden. Wishing that the steps to the river were better lit, Kshapanaka fitted another arrow into her bowstring and shot at the dark shapes writhing and shifting below.

  Thud...

  Not for the first time, she also wondered at the sheer number of Ashvins who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

  ***

  The moment she sighted the bronze armors of the Ashvin cavalry, reflected dully in the light of Ujjayini’s burning hutments, Shanku raised her hand to signal the horse archers accompanying her. The archers dispersed, stretching themselves over the plain in a thin ragged line, yet staying close enough to be within earshot of one another. Riding softly, their bows drawn, the group approached the Ashvins from the rear, their ears trying to pick out the faintest of sounds in the dark.

  When Shanku was certain that she was within range of the devas, she extracted four daggers from her belt and rose on her stirrups. Balancing herself with consummate ease, she flung the daggers at the Ashvins in rapid succession, each dagger finding its mark with deadly precision. At the sound of the daggers hitting their targets, the horse archers swiftly unleashed three volleys of arrows at the Ashvins, before scattering in the dark.

  The stealth and suddenness of the attack caught the devas off guard, and for a few moments, there was an upheaval in their ranks as they tried to take stock of the situation. Using the confusion to her advantage, Shanku hurled four more knives at the surging mass of horsemen, bringing three of them down to the ground. Then, wheeling her horse around, she let out a shrill whoop and began galloping back toward the northern gate of Ujjayini.

  In a matter of seconds, the Ashvin horsemen espied the fleeing figure and gave chase.

  Shanku rode hard, but the closer she drew to Ujjayini, the more sharply she was defined by light of the fire, presenting a clear target to her pursuers. Fire arrows rained down around her, hissing and exploding, a couple of them missing her by a whisker as she dodged and weaved out of harm’s way.

  Keep coming after me, keep coming after me, she chanted in her mind as she watched the blank face of Ujjayini’s northern wall loom out of the darkness.

  As the devas bore down on Shanku, the city’s northern gate began opening from the inside, a bestial, gluttonous mouth in the dancing firelight. Seeing Shanku head straight for the gate and realizing they were too far behind, the Ashvins began reining in their horses – when suddenly Shanku’s horse seemed to flag, slowing down in speed.

  Don’t stop, you pigs, Shanku grimaced as she threw a desperate glance over her shoulder, trying to gauge distances. Come and get me. Don’t give up. She looked up at the ramparts, wondering if the Ashvins were within range of Avanti’s archers, but seeing no movement up on the wall, she realized they probably weren’t.

  Aware that she was taking a huge risk, Shanku dropped speed even further. She just had to keep baiting the Ashvins...

  Observing Shanku slow down and droop across the neck of her horse, the Ashvins sensed opportunity and spurred their horses forward. If they were quick enough, they knew they could get to the gate before their quarry slipped inside and the defenders had a chance to seal the city shut again.

  Shanku heard the growing beat of hooves behind her and sneaked another backward glance. What she was attempting demanded skillful timing – if she acted too soon, the devas would lose heart and cease their pursuit; if she was too slow, there would be no way of getting out of this alive. From somewhere near the gate, she heard someone yell out to her; perhaps one of the officers of the City Watch urging her to hasten. She didn’t respond, but she fervently hoped those inside didn’t shut the gate prematurely in a fit of panic.

  From the corner of her eye, Shanku saw the Ashvins approaching out of the ring of darkness. Someone again hollered at her from the gate, but the words were muffled by the pounding of hooves. Then, from somewhere high above, she thought she heard the twang of a bow.

  A second later, a series of twangs were transmitted along the length of the wall, as the archers of the City Watch finally had the Ashvins within their range.

  “Close the gate, close the gate.” Shanku pushed her charge forward, screaming at the top of her voice as the choked cries of the devas rose into the air behind her.

  A
flurry of the Ashvins’ arrows followed Shanku, narrowly missing her as she ducked and scrambled to get behind the gates that were being drawn shut. But two of Avanti’s soldiers positioned just inside weren’t as fortunate, arrows nailing them to the ground and setting them on fire before the gates slammed on the cavalry from Devaloka.

  Shanku leaped off her steed and darted to the watchtower. Pulling herself up the ladder, two rungs at a time, she emerged on to the platform above in a low crouch. Staying on all fours, feeling the cold roughness of the stony floor on her palms, she scuttled to the edge of the tower to peek outside – when she sensed an uncanny hush descend all around her.

  Where moments ago the stomping of hooves, the frantic rush of feet and the shouting of commands had filled the air, now all that remained was silence.

  Perhaps the Ashvins have beaten a retreat.

  Keeping her head down, she looked up to see the burly soldier who had kept her company earlier standing behind a wall, staring down at the plain. His face was rigid in the glow of the fire, his eyes ringed with astonishment and unease.

  “What’s happened?” Shanku asked in an urgent whisper, her voice uncomfortably loud in the overbearing stillness.

  “They have no mercy,” the soldier hissed back, hardly moving a muscle, fear rattling drily in his throat. “And they... they are... breaking and growing.”

  “What?”

  Raising her head cautiously, Shanku followed the soldiers’ gaze, her eyes totally unprepared for the bizarre scene unfolding below.

  The ground outside the north gate was littered with devas, both dead and dying. However, a good number of the horsemen were unharmed, and with mounting horror, Shanku watched these survivors ride among their fallen mates, slaughtering those mortally wounded, one by one. A powerful thrust of the sword into the exposed neck, a well-placed arrow to the temple or between the eyes – the Ashvins killed their own swiftly, efficiently, without remorse.

  Yet, what rattled Shanku even more was the sight of some of the wounded devas shoving their own swords into their mouths and down their own gullets. For a fleeting moment they reminded Shanku of the sword-swallowers from the Southern Kingdoms, whom she had seen performing at carnivals – only here, there were none of the sword-swallowers’ delicate touches on display. The devas rammed the blades in with brute force, choking and gurgling as their lifeblood ebbed from them. There was something almost ritualistic about the chilling assuredness with which the injured Ashvins were inflicting death upon themselves.

  Shanku felt the bile building inside her. But before she could gag on it, it froze in her throat as she witnessed something even more grotesque. Her first instinct was to put it down to her imagination, but as the fire flared with renewed vigor, lighting up the plain, she knew she wasn’t simply seeing things.

  As the able-bodied Ashvins went about their ghastly chore, they seemed to grow in size, their bodies swelling and distorting and stretching sideways, as if being pulled in opposite directions by enormous, invisible forces. It wasn’t just the Ashvins – even their mounts increased in width, becoming boneless masses of flesh and tissue for a fraction of a second.

  Then, as the deformed bodies acquired a mashed, doughlike consistency, each horseman separated into two distinct, identical, fully-formed entities.

  They are breaking and growing.

  Wide-eyed with shock, Shanku watched the Ashvin cavalry divide and multiply repeatedly, their numbers doubling in the blink of an eye. In no time the plain was again thronging with horsemen – but for some reason, instead of attacking the wall, they chose to retreat into the night. Soon all that remained in the plain were the corpses.

  But Shanku knew the horsemen hadn’t gone far. They would return shortly, in even greater numbers. She also saw that there would be no stopping this self-generating brotherhood of devas.

  Her heart sank in despair for Ujjayini.

  Hellfires

  T

  hey grow their numbers by splitting themselves into two over and over again.”

  Vetala Bhatta looked over the battlements in awe. From the light of the big torches that had been lit near the gate and along the base of the wall, he could make out the vague forms of the Ashvin cavalry out in the plain. He could tell that the horsemen were gradually drawing closer to Ujjayini – perhaps an assault on the eastern gate was imminent as well. “So that’s how they increased from a mere five hundred to surround us on all sides.”

  “And that’s why they are capable of killing off their wounded without a shred of sympathy,” Dhanavantri pointed out. “They don’t need to nurse their injured back to health. They just replace them with new battle-worthy warriors.”

  “I see another reason why they kill off their wounded mates,” the raj-guru said. “For effect – to demonstrate to their enemies how ruthless and fearless they can be.”

  An ominous silence ensued.

  “If they can multiply at will at the speed Shanku and the troops at the northern gate say they saw, how are we ever going to get the better of them?” the physician pondered slowly.

  Instead of answering, the Acharya swung around to one of his commanders. “Has the king been informed about this?”

  “A rider is on his way to the south gate to update the samrat, your honor.”

  “And what’s the latest from the west?”

  “The Ashvins are still trying to break the gate down, but Councilor Kshapanaka and her men are holding them back. We have already dispatched some reinforcements, your honor.”

  The raj-guru returned his gaze eastward, wondering where they would turn to for reinforcements if the Ashvins chose to attack the other three gates simultaneously. More than ever, he wished Vararuchi, Kalidasa and Varahamihira had been in Ujjayini at that moment.

  “No news from Vararuchi so far, I presume?” he asked, without any real hope.

  “Nothing, your honor.”

  The Acharya sighed and his head sank to his chest. Seeing the old councilor’s deflated countenance, Dhanavantri placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m sure they are all right. Vararuchi must have sent a rider with news – he’s probably just not being able to approach the city because of the Ashvins.”

  Vetala Bhatta nodded. A pishacha army to the south. A multitude of Ashvin horsemen all around Ujjayini. Veeshada’s dagger had already begun exacting a heavy toll on the kingdom of Avanti.

  Suddenly, a low roar surged from the plain. Looking up, the raj-guru saw the horsemen’s shadows begin moving toward the wall to the accompaniment of hoof beats and battle cries. The same instant, another barrage of flaming arrows shot into the air in a parabolic curve.

  The east gate was under attack!

  ***

  Unlike the flat, open plains lying to east and the north, the terrain to the south of Ujjayini was hilly, marked by steep ridges and rock-strewn slopes. These ridges afforded an unobstructed view of the city behind its high walls, and it was from here that the Ashvins led by Dasra had launched their brutal assault of arrows, setting Ujjayini’s southern neighborhoods on fire and driving waves of terrified citizens into the streets.

  And it was down one of these rocky slopes that the cavalry, with Dasra at its head, now charged, making straight for Ujjayini’s south gate.

  The gate was charred black and smoldering, its rough wooden face studded with the stubs of hundreds of burned arrows, sticking out like spines on a porcupine’s back. The wood had burned to ash in many places, embers glowing bright orange around these spots, and gray smoke streamed steadily out of the fissures in the old beams. The gate had received such a battering from the fire arrows that it was ready to give in at the slightest pretext.

  Holding his sword aloft, Dasra hurtled down the low gradient, buoyed by the breeze and the war cries of the Ashvins – and the sense of triumph swelling inside him. All his attention was on the charred, smoldering gate, a crumbling bulwark of a proud city that had been brought to its knees. Once past that gate, Dasra knew it was a
matter of time before the Halahala was in their possession.

  The cavalry had reached the point where the slope leveled out when, almost in millimetric movements, the gate began opening. Dasra reined in his horse, eyes narrowed, wondering what to expect from the beleaguered city.

  Careful, brothers! This might be a last token of resistance, or it may be surrender...

  As the gate swung wide open on its hinges, the fires raging within Ujjayini’s walls came into view. And framed in that blazing rectangle of light, the Ashvins saw the silhouette of a lone horseman, tall and upright astride a large horse.

  Dasra observed the figure keenly. Although it was too far to say for certain, the horseman didn’t appear to be bearing weapons. The deva peered into the shadows of the gate, trying to discern the hunched shapes of soldiers waiting in ambush, or preparing to make a sudden rush. But there didn’t seem to be any soldiers hiding around or inside the gate either. He looked up at the walls. He was certain there were archers above, but not one arrow had been shot from the battlements so far.

  It’s probably the surrender after all.

  Still, Dasra retained a firm grip on his sword. Despite his non-threatening manner, there was something vaguely menacing about the shadowy horseman.

  The Ashvins watched the figure move slowly forward. Riding at a steady, assured pace, the horseman emerged from the protection of the city into the plain. No one followed the rider, and everything appeared quiet about the ramparts.

  Convinced that the rider was a messenger or courtier sent to plead a truce, Dasra began relaxing his guard when Ujjayini’s gates began shutting behind the rider.

  Dasra clenched his jaw. He had been right in his misgivings about the horseman. This was no surrender.

  As if in confirmation, the rider pulled to a halt and drew two long swords out of his belt, brandishing them over his head in gleaming arcs. Dasra blinked as the last of the fire from behind the closing gates seemed to catch and burn on the tips of the swords like an illusion – and then it dawned on him that both blades were indeed alight with lambent flames. And although he knew he was imagining it, the deva felt the horseman’s eyes boring into his own from across the dark plain.