The Secret of the Nagas

by Amish Tripathi

  Sati turned to see a thin, wiry little man, who also had the onerous task of collecting firewood and cremating the dead over the last few days. Behind him stood his equally puny wife, with a look of utter determination on her face. Holding onto her dhoti were two little children, no older than two or three, wearing nothing but torn loincloths, unaware of the fate chosen for them by their parents.

  Sati turned towards the Headman, fists clenched. ‘You are sacrificing this poor man and his family because he is the most powerless! This is wrong!’

  ‘No, My Lady,’ said the cleaner. ‘This is my choice. My fate. I have been born low in this birth because of my past life karma. My family and I will sacrifice ourselves willingly for the good of the village. The Almighty will see our good deed and bless us in our next birth.’

  ‘I admire your bravery,’ said Sati. ‘But this will not stop the lions. They will not stop till all of you are either driven out or killed.’

  ‘Our blood will satisfy them, My Lady. The headman has told me so. I am sure of this.’

  Sati stared hard at the cleaner. Blind superstition can never be won over by logic. She looked down at his children. They were poking each other and laughing uproariously. They suddenly stopped and looked up at her. Surprised. Wondering why this foreign woman was staring at them.

  I can’t let this happen.

  ‘I will stay here. I will stay till every lion has been killed. But you will not sacrifice yourself. Or your family. Is that clear?’

  The cleaner stared at Sati, confused at what to him seemed a strange suggestion. Sati turned towards Kaavas. He immediately started leading the soldiers back to the school. Some of them were arguing, clearly unhappy at this turn of events.

  The spies of Parshuram, high in the trees, were watching attentively. Shiva and Bhagirath were on the deck. They appeared to be arguing. Three cutters, lowered from the ship onto the Madhumati, were bobbing gently.

  Finally, Shiva made an angry gesture and started climbing down onto his cutter, which had Drapaku, Nandi, Veerbhadra and thirty soldiers. He looked at two more cutters behind them, full of soldiers. Shiva gave a signal and they started rowing towards the bank.

  The ship on the other hand appeared to be preparing to pull anchor.

  One spy looked at the other with a smile. ‘A hundred soldiers. Let’s go tell Lord Parshuram.’

  The rich waters of the Madhumati and the fertile soil of Branga had conspired to grow a jungle of ferocious density. Shiva looked up at the sky. A little bit of sunshine pierced through the dense foliage. The direction of the rays told Shiva that the sun had already begun its downward journey.

  His platoon had hacked through the almost impenetrable forest for a good eight hours, tracking the movements of the brigand. Shiva had broken for lunch two hours earlier. Though physically satiated, his soldiers were getting restless, waiting for action. Parshuram seemed to be avoiding battle even here.

  Suddenly Shiva raised his hand. The platoon halted. Drapaku slipped up to Shiva and whispered, ‘What is it, My Lord?’

  Shiva pointed with his eyes and whispered, ‘This territory has been marked.’

  Drapaku stared, confused.

  ‘See the cut on this bush,’ said Shiva.

  Drapaku stared harder. ‘They have passed through here. This route has been hacked.’

  ‘No,’ said Shiva, looking ahead, ‘This hasn’t been hacked to walk through. It has been cut from the right side to make us think they have walked through here. There is a trap straight ahead.’

  ‘Are you sure, My Lord?’ asked Drapaku, noticing Shiva reach slowly for his bow.

  Shiva suddenly turned around, pulling an arrow simultaneously and loading it onto his bow. He fired it immediately onto the top of one of the trees. There was a loud noise as an injured man came crashing down.

  ‘This way!’ said Shiva, running hard to the right.

  The soldiers followed, desperately keeping pace with their charging Lord. They ran hard for what must have been a few minutes. Shiva suddenly emerged onto a beach. And stopped dead.

  Standing in front, at a distance of around one hundred metres, was Parshuram with his gang. There were at least one hundred men, an equal match for the Suryavanshis. Shiva’s soldiers kept running out of the jungle in a single file and started getting into formation quickly on the beach.

  ‘I’ll wait!’ said Parshuram sarcastically, his gaze locked onto Shiva. ‘Get your men into position.’

  Shiva stared right back. Parshuram was a powerful man. Though a little shorter than Shiva, he was ridiculously muscled. His shoulders spread wide, his barrel chest heaving. In his left hand was a mighty bow, much too big for any man. But clearly, his powerful arms had enough strength to pull the string clean. On his back was a quiver full of arrows. But slung the other way was the weapon that had made him famous. The weapon he used to decapitate his hapless victims. His battleaxe. He wore a simple saffron dhoti, but no armour. In a sign of his Brahmin antecedents, Parshuram’s head was shaved clean except for a neat tuft of hair tied at the back and a janau thread tied loosely down from his left shoulder across his torso to his right. His face bore a long, mighty beard.

  Shiva looked to his side, waiting for all his soldiers to get into line. He sniffed.

  What is that?

  It seemed like the paraffin used by the Meluhans to light their prahar lamps. He looked down. The sand was clean. His men were safe. Shiva drew his sword and bellowed. ‘Surrender now, Parshuram. And you shall get justice.’

  Parshuram burst into laughter. ‘Justice?! In this wretched land?’

  Shiva turned his eyes to his sides. His men were in position. Ready. ‘You can either bow your head towards justice. Or you can feel its flames bear down on you! What do you want?’

  Parshuram sniggered and nodded at one of his men. The man raised an arrow, touched it to a flame, and shot the burning arrow high into the air, way beyond the range of the Suryavanshis.

  What the hell?

  Shiva lost sight of the arrow in the light of the sun for a moment. It landed quite some distance behind Shiva’s men, and immediately set off the paraffin lying there. The flames spread quickly, making an impenetrable border. The Suryavanshis were trapped on the beach. No retreat was possible.

  ‘You’re wasting your arrows, you idiot!’ shouted Shiva. ‘Nobody is retreating from here!’

  Parshuram smiled. ‘I am going to enjoy killing you.’

  To Shiva’s surprise, Parshuram’s archer turned around, lit another arrow and shot it towards the river.

  Shit!

  Parshuram’s men had tied thin canoes, touching each other, across the bend of the river arching the beach. Full of large quantities of paraffin, these boats immediately burst into flames as the fiery arrow hit one of them. The massive blaze made it appear like the entire river was on fire. The inferno reached high, making it almost impossible for Parvateshwar’s back-up cutters to row through.

  Parshuram looked towards Shiva with a chilling sneer. ‘Let’s keep our merriment to ourselves, shall we?’

  Shiva turned and nodded at Drapaku, who immediately passed an order. An arrow shot up high into the sky and burst into blue flames. Parvateshwar had been summoned. But Shiva didn’t see how the Meluhan General would be able to get through the wall of fire on the Madhumati. Small cutters couldn’t slip through. And the ship itself could not come so close to the banks as it would run aground.

  Nobody’s coming. We have to finish this ourselves.

  ‘This is your last chance, barbarian!’ screamed Shiva, pointing forward with his sword.

  Parshuram dropped his bow. So did every archer at his command, drawing their anga weapons out. Parshuram pulled his battleaxe out. He clearly wanted brutal close combat. ‘No, Brangan! It was your last chance. I’m going to make your end slow and painful.’

  Shiva dropped his bow and drew his shield forward. And spoke to his soldiers. ‘On guard! Go for their sword arms. Injure, don’t kill. We want them alive.’


  The Suryavanshis pulled their shields forward and drew their swords. And waited.

  Parshuram charged. Followed by his vicious horde.

  The bandits ran into Shiva’s men with surprising speed and agility, Parshuram racing in the lead. He had no shield to protect himself. His heavy battleaxe required both arms to wield. He was charging straight at Shiva. However, Drapaku swung to his left and charged. The bandit was momentarily surprised by Drapaku’s charge. He swerved back to avoid the sword and with the same smooth motion, brought his battleaxe up in a brutal swing. Drapaku pushed out the shield fixed on the hook on his amputated left hand to defend himself. The formidable axe severed through a part of the hide-covered bronze shield. A stunned Drapaku swung his shield back, bringing his sword down, glancing a swerving Parshuram’s left shoulder.

  Meanwhile Shiva pirouetted smartly to avoid a vicious stab from one of the bandits, pushing the sword away with his shield. As the bandit lost balance, Shiva swung his sword down in a smooth arc, severing his enemy’s sword arm from the elbow. The thug fell down. Incapacitated, but alive. Shiva immediately turned and pulled his sword up to deflect a strike from another man.

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

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

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

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

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

  They’re coming!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Chapter 15

  The Lord of the People

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

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

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

  ‘And?’

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

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

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

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

  Drapaku kept opening his mouth, trying to say something.

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Shiva rose.

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

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

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

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

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