32

Licking cracked lips, a crowd from Aham clustered at the eastern border, their eyes devouring the gathering clouds in the distance. Encased within the invisible walls, a swirling mass of dark grey covered Swarus. The scene appeared like an enticing melodrama playing out in a glass case, one that both thrilled and agitated the crowd. A resounding thunderclap followed a brilliant fork of blue light.

‘Rain,’ screamed someone. ‘I want to feel the rain.’ The man jumped, trying to vault over the low stone wall, but smacked into an unseen, solid surface, and fell back like a swatted fly.

Sweat-streaked faces twisted with hate, their growls of rage drowning out the thunder. ‘We are dying of thirst here,’ they shrieked, shaking their fists at the unflinching Swarus guards across the transparent barrier, ‘and you do nothing to help us. We’ll break the stone wall, then your magic wall will collapse, and you won’t be able to keep the rain from us.’

‘Break it,’ they chorused, pushing past indifferent Aham soldiers, attacking the barrier with sticks and knives.

King Odav surveyed the chaos from the high tower, the enlarging glass making the screaming hordes at the border discernible. A convoy of carts, piled high with goods, trundled into his vision.

‘The traders from the south have arrived, general. I wonder if they will manage to reach our gates safely.’ Suddenly, he swore. ‘The mobs of Aham have set fire to the carts, general, for God’s sake, do something.’

‘There are hundreds of them out there, Your Majesty. Short of using force, there is little I can do. And that would mean war with Aham.’ Amsha’s delicate mouth curled into a sour smile. ‘Much as I would love to avenge my friend’s death, I couldn’t live with obliterating an entire kingdom.’

Odav swung around, ‘Well then, lower the wall, let the clouds blow over to their side.’

Amsha sighed, ‘Your Majesty, the invisible wall is not high enough to prevent the clouds from sailing across to Aham. With barely a tree in sight to welcome them, they just won’t go there.’

‘Perhaps we could allow these miserable wretches to enter our kingdom for a few days to enjoy the rains?’

‘Your Majesty, you are too soft. It is a risk that I am not willing to take. These people are certain to run amok, besides infecting our citizens with their fears and suspicions.’

‘All right, Amsha, I see your point, but find a way quickly to get the traders safely inside our borders.’

The general’s chin sank to his chest, his fingers absently caressing his flute. A note peeped out, its call imperious. Amsha shook his head, ‘No, I cannot release you. Your fingerprints will give us away. Now do be quiet and let me think.’ He looked up suddenly, his eyes bright, ‘But of course, Your Majesty, Vijaya Dal.’

It was as dark as midnight and the wind tore at his clothes as he rode through the city. Soon, he reached the outskirts and turned off the road into a narrow dirt track. Cresting a hill, he rode into a flat meadow towards flickering lights. And just as he reached a large barn, the rain came down, pelting him with fat drops.

Loud, feminine shouts assailed his ears as he stepped inside. Dressed in loose dhotis, with tight bandages covering their breasts, a dozen young women twirled on trapezes under the high ceiling. Swinging fast, they twisted and leaped mid-air, their weapons clashing. A bronzed, athletic woman, dangled from a rope, keeping a sharp eye out for a wrong move, lunging swiftly to correct it.

‘Aerial warriors,’ Amsha smiled his admiration.

‘Indeed,’ a laughing voice responded in his ear.

‘Riju,’ he exclaimed, glancing at the young man’s bare upper body slick with sweat, ‘are you in training too?’

‘But, naturally,’ the mason grinned. ‘I am the honorary member of the Vijaya Dal, the only male!’

‘Sire! What a wonderful surprise,’ Dharaa cried out, lightly jumping to the floor, sinews rippling in her body. ‘What brings you here?’

Amsha’s eyes lit up with a smile. ‘You, of course!’ Then his face became grave, ‘I need your help for a dangerous mission. It involves Aham.’

The couple exchanged a glance, their chins lifting, hands clasping.

‘We always knew this day would come,’ Dharaa said, her voice taut. ‘We are ready.’

For a moment, Amsha found himself back on a wintry battlefield, looking into a pair of brown eyes holding the same determined expression. Shaking his head, he drew a quick breath, and told them of Swarus’s helplessness in tackling the rioting at its border.

‘If we retaliate, we could wipe out Aham, so, we have to save them from themselves.’ His gentle gaze flickered over the Vijaya Dal listening to him intently. ‘You can act independent of the army. I need you to distract the Aham rioters and give me the opportunity to create a safe passage for the traders.’

Dharaa looked at him, ‘These people, are they unarmed?’

‘Sticks and stones when wielded by violent bullies are as dangerous as swords. Besides, you will be shockingly outnumbered.’

‘Then we may have to kill?’

Amsha pursed his lips, unwilling to utter the words. ‘Yes,’ he said at last, ‘which means you cannot return, for Aham is sure to trace you back to Swarus, and that will make war inevitable.’ In the sudden hush that followed, the sound of rain magnified, drumming hard on the roof. ‘I am asking for a terrible sacrifice.’

A faint smile touched Dharaa’s lips. Raising a clenched fist, she turned to face her team.

‘Victory is courage,’ the Vijaya Dal chanted. ‘Victory is sacrifice.’

If only Saahas could see him now, Riju smiled wryly to himself. It was a hot, windy night outside the borders of Swarus, the gritty dust obscuring the moon. Dressed all in black, the Vijaya Dal proceeded cautiously, split into two groups, Dharaa leading one and Riju, the other. A sudden flare of light in the distance brought them to a halt. It was a cart set ablaze, looters heckling the trader, pushing and poking the cowering man with sticks.

Dharaa turned sharply to her left. ‘Do you hear that?’ she asked in an undertone. Low mutters and grunts filtered through the darkness, punctuated with the sound of spades striking hard ground.

‘Dharaa,’ Riju whispered, feeling her back tense up, ‘I think some of the rioters are tunnelling under the stone wall.’

‘Let me take care of them, they can’t be too many. You take the girls and save the traders. I’ll see you there.’ Moving lightly, she ran on ahead, soundlessly unsheathing her sword, her sharp eye discerning a group of men huddled at the base of the wall. As she closed the distance, Dharaa counted under her breath, ‘One, two, three, four . . . and five.’

The clatter of a loose pebble alerted them, and they jumped up, knives flashing. Leaping into the air, Dharaa brought down her sword, striking at their hands, just below the wrist. Yowls rent the night, followed by a rush of many rapid footsteps. Dark shadows jumped out, daggers and iron cudgels arcing, hoarse, rough voices shouting curses. Coiled like a spring, Dharaa waited for the men to converge on her. When they closed in, she shot above them, somersaulting over their heads and landing behind them. ‘Come on,’ she murmured, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her eyes gleaming above the black cloth masking her face.

Enraged, the hulking silhouettes charged, spitting and yelling, eager to cut her to ribbons. But she evaded their blows comfortably, almost laughing at their amateur skills. Aiming a swift kick at a man’s groin, she jabbed stiffened fingers at another’s throat. Slipping out of their grasp again and again, she left them maimed and screaming in pain.

‘Lead them away,’ she shouted, sprinting towards Riju and the girls, helping them beat back the hordes from the carts. ‘Head north.’

‘Women,’ thrilled the looters, hearing the feminine shouts. ‘These are women.’

‘Let’s have some fun,’ they leered, sucking saliva through their teeth as they gave chase, wolves baying after deer.

‘This place should be good enough,’ Dharaa panted, slowing down and glancing quickly at the dry scrub hemmed in by a small, dying forest. ‘This is the real test,’ she said looking at every girl, searching for a sign of weakness. ‘So far we have not wounded anyone fatally, but now—’ she stopped, jerking towards the growing clamour of men.

‘Now,’ Riju continued, taking her hand in his, ‘we must fight to the death.’

‘We are prepared,’ the girls shouted in unison. ‘Victory is courage, victory is sacrifice!’

‘Get into the sickle formation,’ Dharaa commanded. ‘And keep the trees behind you. They’ll be of use to us.’ A rock came flying at them and her sword smashed it, crumbling it into the dirt. For a moment there was silence, the silence of dry leaves and dead branches, of a stifling hot night and smothering dust. But then it snapped. Snarling like dogs-on-the-scent, the rioters and looters hurtled forward, eager to hunt.

The sickle of Vijaya Dal charged, scything through the hordes. Swords flashed and instantly sounds of ripping flesh and crunching bones filled the night. Men grunted and howled, swearing at the whirling women. Riju head-butted one fellow in the chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. ‘They have no stuff in them,’ he exclaimed in surprise. ‘Just a lot of hot air.’

‘Hot air, huh,’ barked a rough voice and a knife slashed Riju’s midriff. But instantly the attacker staggered back, screaming, Riju’s sword hacking his arm, the stump spouting blood like a fountain.

‘To the trees,’ Dharaa screamed and the Vijaya Dal lunged for the high branches, swinging up and out of reach. The men snorted and snuffled below, trying to clamber up after the women, the unexpected thrust of a sword making them tumble back to earth. ‘Put a match to the jungle,’ a voice rasped. ‘It will burn like firewood. Smoke the bitches out.’

‘Hurry up,’ Riju shouted to Dharaa.

‘Keep moving north,’ she instructed the girls, swinging from tree to tree and counting every member. ‘And we’ll be out of this forest soon.’ The carpet of dry leaves below burst into flames. Grey smoke spiralled up, scratching their throats and without warning, a searing gust of wind blew in, fanning the fire into a blaze.

‘Grilled meat,’ the men guffawed, enjoying the spectacle, when a booming crack erased their grins. The fire, engulfing the jungle in one great whoosh, had snapped the trees. Fiery branches fell towards them, the dry grass exploding into a furnace. Pushing and tripping over each other, they tried to run but the fire outraced them, trapping them in black smoke and orange flames.

On the other side of the inferno, the Vijaya Dal huddled on a large, flat rock, wheezing from the smoke in their lungs, their eyes streaming. Flames licked the prickly grass around them, and unable to race up the crag, began to die down at its edges. Coughing hard, Riju sank to his knees, and caught his side.

‘You are hurt,’ Dharaa peered at the gash and tearing off her mask, stanched the flow of blood with it.

‘We have avenged ourselves,’ he said to her. ‘Wiped out some of the horror Aham inflicted on us.’

She looked up in surprise. ‘Avenged ourselves? No, never that. We fulfilled our duty, Riju. We owed Swarus and now we have repaid our debt.’

‘The traders must be safely inside Swarus,’ a girl remarked, striking a wistful note. ‘But where should we go?’

Dharaa noted the sudden anxiety. It was there in every face turned towards her, trusting her to have the answer.

‘I don’t know,’ she said biting her lip.

‘To Yamathig,’ Riju’s soft voice startled them. ‘Saahas told me about it,’ he nodded at Dharaa, a shadow of a smile on his face. ‘Perhaps we’ll see him there.’