part0039

Things were all hazy for him until his eyes opened and he found himself in a different atmosphere. It was cold; terribly, horrifically cold. Wrapping his lanky arms around his chest, Kripa came onto his feet. There was the sound of a crack underneath his feet and he realized he was standing on ice.

The chilly breeze made it worse for him as it distracted him. Carefully, he tiptoed to the edge.

“Well, you had your fun,” he shouted to the skies, still precariously standing over the thin sheet of ice. “You can help and rescue me otherwise I’ll die of cold, mate.”

And then the ice broke at the edge, plunging into the freezing water below. Kripa pulled away and slowly made his way towards the solid layer of ice, where he saw a figure standing. Towering and bulky, the figure had a tiger skin wrapped around him, with an axe hanging from his back. His long hair was matted.

“You always have your fun, mate,” Kripa remarked. “But stop calling me in these dreams, all right? It gets all heavy and hurts…”

The figure stayed there, silent, nostrils flaring.

“What do you want, Bhargav? I showed you the battle, right? We saw what he did. He’s the one.” Kripa’s voice had changed. It had become stern and deeper.

“You can speak normally.”

“You have no idea how much energy it takes to get in your head and it isn’t the most pleasant place to begin with.” Bhargav Ram walked, while Kripa struggled to follow. In front of him, Kripa looked older and dirtier. There was something about Bhargav, a sense of grandeur and majesty.

“I never allowed that.”

“Do you think I have a choice? Since your nephew has gone astray, away from his destiny, you are the only one I can count on.”

Bhargav sat on the ice platform, which he had conjured up, harnessing the energy of Soma.

“In his defense, he was never supposed to follow a destiny, after that curse and all, the poor kid…”

Bhargav laid his palms flat. “No. He was. He was promised the heavens if he would agree to it and follow it. But he didn’t. And he’s hiding. He could be a far greater problem than Adharm right now. He was last seen in the Temple of Shiva…”

Kripa’s blood ran cold. “I thought I had blocked that place well.”

“Apparently you didn’t. He found it.” Bhargav stamped his feet, and a deep crack formed on the icy floor.

Kripa’s heart skipped a beat.

“If he gets his hand on the Sword of Shiva, we are in great trouble. We are still stuck with the hero you think he is.”

Kripa shook his head. “He is and I can feel it. You saw it for yourself. I was right there, showing you everything.”

“I saw what he did, but he’s weak.” Bhargav listlessly remarked. “How will he defeat the prophetic evil? No one so emotional should be allowed to be Dharm in the first place. I don’t know what the Gods planned for him to do.”

Kripa shook his head. “No, I see the greater good in him. You call it emotional; mate, but I call it strength. For no good comes with cold calculations, mind you.”

Lord Bhargav Ram turned. He walked towards Kripa. “Says the man who orchestrated all of this. Weren’t you the one who paid the Mlecchas into kidnapping the boy’s father so he would show what he’s really capable of, and then backstabbed the Mlecchas, who didn’t know what was coming for them? All the time consistently making use of your nom de plume and using middlemen to do your work?”

Kripa’s heart sank. “I did it at your command. Don’t blame me. I work for you. At least it worked. We didn’t wait all this time for nothing, eh my friend?”

“I’m not your friend.” Bhargav furrowed his brows. “I sense great awakening of the Adharm. Soon we will face an adversary. I wonder if the fates are playing games with us. We had tried so much for the prophecy to not start, but the fates bypassed us and made us their prey. I didn’t want the Age of Adharm to start, but now I feel it is about to.”

“I was one day late, I know,” Kripa nodded. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have a Dharm as of now,” Kripa said, but he knew the fates would have improvised around that as well and done what was written according to the scriptures. The Words.

“The last Age had been horrible for us. We all were victims,” Bhargav paused, as if he had let out too much of his emotions. “I want you to do the necessary arrangements, get him ready and bring him to me. He must have the sword before anything else, and must be trained; otherwise we will lose…again.”

Kripa nodded. “You have my word.”

And then his chest jerked and he was pulled from somewhere, everything going black around him. The sound of chirping birds and the smell of sura overpowered him, until he felt hard kicking against his thighs.

His eyes opened fast, watching two individuals standing in front of him. They were familiar. He was away from the ice and the coldness. It was something about snow, and the north, that horrified him, especially the mortifying lopsided and jagged hills.

Kalki had a parrot sitting on his shoulder which was odd but made sense. At least, it followed the Words—what it said. He’s the real deal. Thank God. No more searching for the hero anymore.

He sighed with a grin on his face. This was the triumphant return of the secret manipulator, Kripacharya. He wanted to congratulate himself.

“What in the heavens are you smiling about, drunkard? Wake up and speak to my friend. You have had enough sleep for today.”

Kalki knelt. He had a lot of scars, visible through his loose tunic. He had browner skin than most of the folks at Shambala.

“We need to talk,” he said, pursing his lips.

Kripa stretched his arms and then looked back at Kalki. “Would it be weird if I tell you that I was just dreaming about you?”