part0053

Kripa nodded. “True.” He moved forward looking at everyone, his hands dangling beside his body. “It’s like the old times, as they used to do. Best way to not end up with a lot of casualties. Whoever this lady Durukti is…”

“Lord Kali’s blood sister,” Lakshmi said, while everyone turned to see how she knew this piece of information. “My aunt. She works in the government, remember?”

“Anyway,” Kripa continued, “she doesn’t want a bloodbath, so she’s choosing the less cumbersome way. In this manner, she will win because she knows we have no fighter on our side who is strong enough, while she has the strongest Tribal on her side. She can freely enter with our defeat. It’s good either ways, though. If we by happenchance win, then they will leave.”

Arjan had crossed his arms. “Okay, but what is the guarantee?”

“Mate, this is a battle,” Kripa smiled cheekily. “There aren’t guarantees. There are only exchanged words and promises that they ought to keep with each other.”

“Better than scavenging for bodies if we reject this offer,” Kalki said.

Lyla interrupted, “We should reject it and fight with all our might.”

Kripa shook his head. “Not the smartest move to make by the way, lass. We are untrained, weak and dispersed. Right now our only hope is this combat.”

“Can I ask how will we find someone who’s as strong as that big, dark and tough man we saw right now?” Roshan Mitra cleared his throat in inquiry.

Everyone turned to face Bala, who arrogantly lifted up his mace and grinned. But Kalki saw Lakshmi and Kripa watching him intently. And then his eyes met Arjan’s, who didn’t look at Bala, but at Kalki. They had a silent exchange of approval with each other, but Kalki knew he couldn’t expose himself in front of Lord Kali’s sister. If she knew how strong he was, what he held inside him, things would take a wholly bitter turn.

They were standing opposite the Rakshas army. Kalki had agreed to the duel, but he came with his own preparations. There were people standing on the top of the terrains, invisible to the Rakshas and Lady Durukti, ready to trample them under stones, given a chance. All the archers and the swordsmen were in place, while folks with bolas were standing, ready to hurt them with the explosives. Kalki had seen the effects of it. It wouldn’t kill the Rakshas, but easily wound their face or at most blind them.

Lakshmi had sent a number of men to scout and see if the village was empty. Lyla and Samrat were fifty yards away, on the same path that led to Indravan. Arjan and Kripa were on the eastern front while Roshan was on the west, waiting for a volley of arrows to be shot if anything went wrong. There were a few dispersed soldiers who were standing at guard, away from the Rakshas camp. Some were on trees with their bows, while others were on bullock carts, hiding. Any disturbance and they would pounce with their weapons. Most of the elders and non-volunteers were at Indravan, perhaps praying for the ones who were risking their lives to save them. Kalki and Bala were standing with two more volunteers at the back, holding axes. They didn’t come prepared, but Durukti had. She brought a pack of Rakshas at the back, while she was on the horse with another woman.

How did he know who Durukti was out of the two? It was because of the way she entered. She had an air about her, the way her chin was lifted up. But most of all, Kalki was surprised that she was…his age, or perhaps even younger. And exceptionally pretty. The mere thought of acknowledging the enemy’s beauty flustered him. He concentrated on the moment at hand. Durukti had a flamboyant golden and maroon laced robe. Tightly clutching the horse’s reins, she looked over the entire terrain, studying Kalki. He was in torn and dull clothes, unlike them. The lady next to her was perhaps Arjan’s age, but not as pretty as Durukti. She was pretending to be an aristocratic woman but something about her made him feel like she was a native, perhaps from a village. The only distinguishing feature about the girl was her seven fingers. They said it meant she was lucky, though Kalki doubted it. What was so lucky being with a woman who wanted to destroy an innocent village?

“I am grateful you have accepted our combat idea. We were worried you wanted a battle. Hopefully, we have both come to a decent resolution.” Durukti smiled, her voice gentle.

What was she doing? Why was she being so sweet? Questions plagued him and pierced his conscience. He was worried, since the sweetest ones were also the most dangerous.

“This is Bala.” Kalki thumped his friend’s back as he came forward with his mace, frowning and huffing.

Durukti nodded. “Chief Martanja,” she said, pointing to the one-eyed Rakshas, who was the only one wearing a breastplate amongst the other ones, “call your fighter.”

Martanja signalled towards his men. Kalki waited for a mammoth-sized enemy from their end. Passing through the Rakshas band of men, appeared a lanky, short man with a javelin in his hand, wearing nothing but a dhoti. He had scars lined across his dark skin and he had little hair on his head and his body. But his face was heavily bearded.

Bala looked at Kalki. And they both knew they weren’t expecting this.

“His name is Kumbh,” Durukti said with a straight face.

Kalki began to breathe a sigh of relief. Bala was a trained guardsman and Kumbh was half his size. Bala’s one slap would send him sprawling on the ground, never to get up again. Kalki heaved a sigh of relief when Bala went forward, his mace ready to wreak damage.

The battle spot wasn’t anything to write home about. It was a gently undulating clearing near the forest, with heavily flowering shrubs on one side, and weak sunlight filtering from the tree canopies above them. The whole area smelled of dried, burning leaves and oil. Perhaps these Rakshas anointed themselves with a lot of oil as they stank of it. Kalki could see all of them glistening with oil and wearing their armours and carrying their weapons. They looked far more ready as compared to his own ragtag side.

“Let it begin,” Durukti signalled.

The circular area, where the patch of land was, became their ground for the combat. They circled each other. Kalki studied each move Kumbh made. He was walking casually, while Bala was crouched forward, legs bent, ready to lurch.

That was when Bala rushed towards Kumbh ready to attack, but not with the mace. He was hoping to use brute strength against Kumbh. Kumbh rolled over, dodging the attack and coming out of the clearing. He did it in a snap of a second. Bala couldn’t realise where he went. He turned around. Kumbh was there behind him. He was smirking.

Kalki saw Bala now begin to use his mace, twisting the handle and circling it around the top, his mouth contorting into an almighty yell as he was about to strike Kumbh. Except he struck only air. Kumbh had again escaped. He was standing behind Bala again. He could have easily climbed on top of Bala and pierced him with his weapon, but he didn’t. He was savouring each such futile attack that Bala made.

Kumbh’s each calculated movement was a marvel of its own. He moved like a snake, slithered and rattled, dodged and swept, and unlike other Rakshas, he wasn’t built well either. Rather, his arms were slim and his stomach was concave. But his face was full of vitality and energy. He was a strange enigma.

Bala again went forward, but he missed each strike. And that only led to his frustration. Kalki could see Bala was growing impatient. He was furious, his throat convulsing with anger. He yelled loudly in anger and charged once again at the quick Kumbh.

And yet again he dodged.

Kalki looked at Durukti and then at Martanja. They were enjoying this.

And before he could spill the secret to Bala, the six feet nine inch guardsman rushed to hit Kumbh, who just slyly sidestepped the attack, gave a somersault in the air and came over Bala’s shoulder. With one of his hands, he grabbed his neck and the other grabbed the weapon. He didn’t kill Bala instantly. Rather, he pushed himself down, letting Bala collapse as well, due to the combined weight. Bala tripped and as he did, Kumbh pushed himself away from the big man and rolled back. Kumbh came forward, while Bala was trying to regain his footing, somersaulting again and letting his javelin pierce Bala’s chest.

Except he couldn’t.

The astonished eyes of Kumbh looked up at what stopped his javelin so fast.

Holding his javelin was none other than Kalki, his fist clenching around the iron rod, almost twisting the spear at the end with brute force. A trickle of blood dripped over Bala, who was in shock of what had happened. Kumbh had a dumbfounded expression; he was weak, almost shuddering.

Kalki began to clench the javelin tighter and the blade just broke in one piece. He grabbed the end of the javelin and with tremendous force, he plunged the javelin’s weak end against Kumbh’s chest. He fell back just like how Bala had collapsed a while back. Kalki came forward, tossing the javelin on the side and grabbing hold of Kumbh, as he began to drag him against the muddy ground, choking him. Kalki rained a few punches over his gut. Bleeding from his nose and mouth, Kumbh had lost his earlier frenzied look of vitality. He was weak and timid. Kalki looked at Martanja and Durukti, who were watching him intently, mortified, but also awed by the grand sight of what Kalki was able to do to their best warrior. And then Kalki let go off his throat. Kumbh’s body just fell on the ground. The very fact that he was able to surprise Kumbh was what gave him leverage on the quick warrior.

Kumbh was on the ground and Kalki watched him with narrowed eyes. He had a bloody nose, that Rakshas. Kalki looked up, wiping the blood from his palm, tearing a piece of his tunic and wrapping it around his palm as he looked up at the disappointed Durukti.

Bala came on to his feet, grabbing Kalki’s face. He was shivering and for someone who knew Bala, it was a surprise. Perhaps the fact that he was so close to death made him realise the finiteness of life.

“We have won,” Kalki calmly said. Martanja just watched Kumbh as if he couldn’t believe his best warrior had been knocked down by a village simpleton. But he didn’t know Kalki was more than just that. “You have to leave…now,” he ordered and he began to move away when he heard the same gentle voice.

“You were never part of the fight!”

“Well what do you know? I was the surprise element in the fight.”

A flash of anger swept across Durukti’s face. “You want to play it like this?”

Kalki turned to face the sister of Kali and nodded.

“All right then.” Durukti looked at Martanja. “Grab the boy and raid the village.”

Kalki’s body stiffened, before he realized that ten Rakshas came to his side. He looked at Bala and signalled at him to rush off with the guards he had brought. Bala did so, while Kalki tried to get rid of as many Rakshas as possible. Some of them even chased Bala, but he was quick enough to escape deep in the woods.

They didn’t kill Kalki so he punched a few, before his arms were trapped and his legs were tightly bound together. Kalki was forced into a strap, as he looked up in the sky. He could see his father’s image in it for a while, as he was bound and taken forward, his back being flayed by the continuous lashes from their whips. He was forcibly made to kneel before Durukti. He couldn’t hear or see Bala anywhere and he only wished they would fight valiantly.

“You betrayed the agreement.”

“I played the way you played.” Durukti smiled, the ingeniousness and deviousness clearly visible in her. “Don’t kill him,” she told the Rakshas who were holding Kalki.

Martanja was surprised. “Why, my lady?”

“A peasant who needs ten of your men to be tamed,” Durukti narrowed her eyes, piercingly glaring at Kalki, who was held against his will by many arms, “cannot be just a mere peasant.”

Kalki looked up, straining his arms against the back. He could see the village folks had brought the boulders on the opposite side, above the battle site.

“NOW!” Kalki yelled.

Durukti and Martanja yelled at the incoming surprise as the villagers pushed the rock and escaped from there. The boulders rolled down against the terrain, smacking each other as well as the Rakshas and their tents, destroying their food and shields. While it did not cause any significant casualty, but it did raise the temper of Martanja, who by now was seething in rage.