Siege

What do you think they are doing, raj-guru?”

The question came from a senior captain of the City Watch, a short man with a neatly trimmed gray beard and a broken nose. The captain was in the company of Vetala Bhatta and Dhanavantri, who were standing on the walkway behind the battlements, looking out into the eastern plain. Light was failing rapidly over Ujjayini, and a fine powdery spray fell from above, gradually dampening their clothes and hair, adding to the discomfort.

“They don’t seem to be doing anything,” perplexed, Vetala Bhatta shook his head, peering at the Ashvins gathered in the plain.

Three-quarters of an hour had passed since the verbal faceoff between the councilors and the Ashvin commanders. On returning to the safety of Ujjayini’s walls, the Acharya and Dhanavantri had busied themselves with overseeing the defense of the eastern gate, while Kshapanaka had ridden off to secure the southern and western gates. Shanku had been tasked with strengthening the northern gate, besides leading an evacuation of the houses that spilled beyond the periphery of Ujjayini’s northern wall – a natural expansion of a populous and prosperous city that was sprouting new urban localities.

The raj-guru and Dhanavantri had debated the prospect of leading a preemptive charge against the Ashvins, but had discarded the idea on seeing the night falling quickly around them. It was better to wait for the devas behind the security of the walls than risk losing lives in the darkness of the open plain, they concluded.

Strangely enough, in all the time that Ujjayini was being fortified against attack, the Ashvins themselves had displayed little inclination or enthusiasm for battle – Nasatya’s dire warning notwithstanding. The deva force had just stood around as the day drew to a close around them, and from what the Acharya could make out, it looked as if the horsemen were waiting for something.

“It doesn’t seem as if they are in any hurry to mount an attack,” said Dhanavantri, wiping the spray that had accumulated on his broad forehead. Turning to the raj-guru, he raised one eyebrow. “Do you think they are having second thoughts about attacking us? Maybe they’ve realized that they underestimated our strength...”

“No,” Vetala Bhatta shook his head with certainty. “They are waiting for someone or something. That much I’m sure of.”

Just then, a soldier clambered out of a narrow staircase that led up to the battlements from the streets and alleyways below. Stepping on to the walkway, the soldier approached the raj-guru and bowed. “We have the reports from the scouts, your honor,” he gasped, catching his breath.

The moment he had ascertained that the Ashvin cavalry was no greater than five hundred in number, Vetala Bhatta had ordered scouts to fan out in all eight directions to search for reinforcements. He was certain that even the devas weren’t foolhardy enough to come to battle in such small numbers; he sensed that the Ashvins had split into smaller groups to escape detection and surround Ujjayini from all four sides. That the horsemen in the plain hadn’t launched their attack so far only strengthened his belief.

“What do the scouts report?” he inquired.

“None of the scouts has reported the presence of any suspicious horsemen or troops anywhere within ten miles of Ujjayini,” the soldier said. “And there are no signs of any suspicious boats on either bank of the sacred Kshipra, your honor.”

The Acharya blinked in disbelief. “That can’t be. They must have reinforcements.”

“All the reports are with the Scouts Master, your honor. All the reports are negative.”

Vetala Bhatta nodded. “You may leave.”

The raj-guru returned his gaze to the plain, his bushy gray eyebrows knitting together in a deep, unhappy frown.

“No reinforcements,” he muttered half to himself. “But how’s that possible? There are so few of them...”

Dhanavantri and the captain of the City Watch watched the Ashvins, a clump of moving shadows in the surrounding gloom. It was becoming harder and harder to pick them in the twilight.

“That means they can’t be waiting for something,” said the physician. “Unless it’s darkness they’re waiting for, so that they can slink away undetected like foxes...”

“That’s it, Dhanavantri,” the Acharya insisted, a slight note of triumph in his voice. “That’s precisely it. They are waiting for nightfall. They plan to attack under cover of darkness.”

“Five hundred horsemen against a fortified city with ten thousand defenders – not much of a plan,” scoffed the captain. “What tactical advantage could darkness give them?”

“I don’t know,” replied the raj-guru, recalling the strange smile on the Ashvin commanders’ faces just before they had parted on the plain. A wave of uneasiness swept over him, and suddenly he felt a lot less sure about defending Ujjayini.

***

The command center at Sristhali was moderately large in size and was situated on the western flank of the border town, nudging the foothills of the Arbuda Range. A rivulet, rarely ever in spate, formed a natural boundary between the command center and the main town, renowned all over Sindhuvarta for its marble craftsmanship.

Night having descended, the marble workshops of Sristhali had fallen silent, both artisans and apprentices back in the comfort of their homes. The last of the mule trains from the abundant marble quarries to the south had also returned, and the narrow streets were quickly emptying as the townsfolk wound down for the day.

It was just as well for Sristhali’s diligent citizenry that the command center was some distance from the town – else, their repose would have been unduly disturbed by the fearful roar of Amara Simha’s voice splitting the tranquil night air.

“Did or didn’t the message say that I wanted the prisoner fit for interrogation?”

The voice came from a large, square building in the middle of the compound, an open window affording a view of Amara Simha, who stood scowling before a shamefaced officer of the Frontier Guard. In the background, Ghatakarpara and Governor Satyaveda stood quietly, watching the officer squirm and sweat under Amara Simha’s glare.

“Yes, your honor,” the officer stammered. “But... the prisoner... But we thought...”

“But you thought what, Commander Dattaka?” Amara Simha thundered. “Why didn’t your physician attend to the prisoner? Why wasn’t something done to fix his broken leg, and why wasn’t he administered some medication to reduce the pain?”

“He is a Huna, so we thought he didn’t deserve any kindness, your honor,” the officer mumbled.

“Treating his leg had nothing to do with showing kindness, you fool,” the councilor smacked his forehead in frustration. “It was to keep him in a state where we could interrogate him.” Throwing his hands up in the air, he began pacing the floor, but within moments he was back in front of Dattaka.

“And to top it all, you tried beating information out of him. Is it a wonder that he’s fallen unconscious? What in hell’s name were you thinking?”

“We had the translator, so we thought... maybe we could get something out of him before you arrived, your honor,” Dattaka hung his head.

“Ah, you wanted to impress me with your efficiency when I walked in here.” The councilor folded his big hands across his broad chest. “Well, you have failed miserably in impressing me, commander. First you find some silly reason for not sending the prisoner to Udaypuri...”

“We don’t have a wagon for escorting an injured prison...” Dattaka began protesting weakly, but Amara Simha raised a hand to stop him.

“No, I really don’t have a problem with that, so let that be. But I have ridden long and hard to come here and question the Huna. Now if something happens to him because of your stupidity and he fails to regain consciousness... you will be in big, big trouble.”

“He’ll be all right, your honor,” Dattaka assured, even though his voice didn’t carry much conviction. Pointing to a small elderly man who stood in the shadows, he added, “Our physician says he will.”

Amara Simha turned to the man, who stepped into the circle of light. Everything about the physician’s appearance pointed to a timid and careworn life, and the councilor intuitively softened his voice as he addressed the man.

“The prisoner will regain consciousness, won’t he?”

“He should. I think he will,” the physician replied, although Amara Simha was discouraged by the slight shrug of the thin shoulders.

“And when can we expect him to return to consciousness?”

This time, even more dishearteningly, the shrug was more pronounced. “I can’t say. Maybe in a few hours, maybe tomorrow...”

“I hope he’s under observation.”

“Yes, yes... the guards have been given the strictest instructions, your honor.” Knowing that he had done at least one thing right, Dattaka leaped at the opportunity to salvage his reputation and rise in Amara Simha’s esteem.

“Keep it that way,” the councilor said curtly. “And the moment he recovers consciousness, inform the kind physician and me. Understood? Now get someone to show us to our quarters. We’ve had a long day and would like to eat and retire for the night.”

***

Night had occupied Avanti’s sky for nearly an hour when someone spotted the lights out in the plain.

Vetala Bhatta was busy issuing instructions to a group of archers when he heard a murmur spread along the wall, growing steadily in volume as word was passed between the soldiers. Turning around, he stared into the plain, his jaw dropping open in astonishment.

The darkness that had enveloped the plain just moments ago was now punctuated by hundreds and hundreds of pinpricks of phosphorescent light, winking eerily through the fine drizzle like silver-green fireflies. Though it was hard to be sure, to the Acharya’s eyes the row of lights appeared to stretch for miles in both directions, following the natural curve of Ujjayini’s walls like a flickering girdle of fire.

“What is this?” one of the archers by Vetala Bhatta’s side whispered in awe.

“Take your places and be prepared,” the raj-guru barked in response. Whirling around, he was about to retrace his steps to the eastern gate when, almost magically, the lights began lifting into the air, their synchronized movement mimicking that of a fountain. A hush fell over the walkway as Avanti’s defenders followed the flight of the lights with dazed eyes.

The lights soared, phantom-like, high over the plain... and then, almost imperceptibly, they changed direction and started their descent. Growing in size and sharpness with every passing second, they came arcing down toward Ujjayini’s walls with great force, the air filling with an unmistakable rushing, whistling sound.

“Take cover,” the Acharya shouted at the top of his voice, hurling himself flat against the protective masonry of the ramparts. “They are fire arrows!”

In a matter of seconds the arrows rained down on the walkway and on both sides of the wall. The arrowheads exploded on impact, sending bursts of sizzling, phosphorescent sparks in all directions, the ember-hot particles searing bare flesh and setting fire to everything combustible.

The soldiers of the City Watch scrambled for cover, but the screams and shouts echoing along the walkway suggested that quite a few of them had been hit before they could take defensive positions. From the corner of his eye, the Acharya saw one soldier, his clothes on fire, flounder along the walkway before toppling helplessly over the edge and falling to his death. Inside the wall, a couple of the arrows had ignited a house, while another had set alight a wagon loaded with weapons from the armory.

“Quick, douse that fire,” somebody shouted from below, running toward the wagon. “We can’t lose so many arrows and spears.”

A bout of panic swept along the wall as many soldiers broke cover and ran helter-skelter. The more strong-willed among them, however, crouched behind the parapet and drew their own bows. Vetala Bhatta cast a quick glance into the plain. Seeing that all was dark, he stood up and ran along the walkway, issuing a series of commands.

“Get back to your places. Keep your heads down and your bows ready. Shoot if you see the enemy making a charge for the gates.”

A semblance of order was restored as the Acharya’s commands were relayed by officers of the City Watch. Down below, soldiers bearing swords and spears rushed to the city’s eastern gate.

Vetala Bhatta had almost reached the gates when he saw a fresh row of lights blink in the plain. As the Ashvins launched the second wave of flaming arrows skyward, the raj-guru shouted down to the men inside the walls.

“Take cover. More arrows are coming.”

Ducking behind the parapet, the Acharya poked his head out – but instead of gazing up at the arrows, this time he focused his attention on the dark plain below. As the arrows climbed and reached the peak of their trajectory, for a fraction of a second the entire plain was bathed with their dim phosphorescence. And in that light Vetala Bhatta saw the plain teeming with an army of horsemen.

An army of several thousand horsemen, arrayed to the north and south of the gate.

As the blazing arrows showered down upon Ujjayini, the raj-guru huddled behind the parapet, wondering how the Ashvin cavalry had multiplied from a mere five hundred to many thousands in less than an hour.

***

Shanku watched the houses and hutments clustered outside Ujjayini’s northern wall going up in a blaze, her eyes smarting with tears of outrage, sorrow and frustration.

The Ashvins had smartly picked the defenseless quarter as their target, and despite the abundant dampness everywhere, the fire from their arrows had spread rapidly through the dense jumble of buildings. A patch of twenty-odd houses had already succumbed to the ravenous flames, while long tongues of fire licked appreciatively at the structures that stood intact around the fringes of the conflagration. Thick, black smoke belched and billowed from the burning debris, rolling through the township’s cramped bylanes like a formless, vengeful entity.

The only consolation in all this was that the fire hadn’t claimed any lives so far – every single resident of the quarter had been successfully evacuated and lodged behind the safety of the city’s walls. But Shanku knew that most of the householders were in serious risk of losing all their possessions and would have to rebuild their lives from scratch.

If Ujjayini was able to weather the Ashvin onslaught, she told herself.

Cursing the injustice of it all, Shanku turned her gaze to the right and peered into the overwhelming darkness that lay to the east, from where the horsemen had launched their flaming missiles. Waving off the pungent smoke eddying around her, she addressed the bulky soldier standing beside her on the watchtower that overlooked the northern gate.

“How far away are they?” she asked. “Are they within our archers’ range?”

“It’s hard to say in this darkness,” the soldier replied with a shrug. “I need to get a better sighting before I can be sure.”

At precisely that moment, as if on cue, the Ashvin cavalry shot a fresh round of arrows into the air. This attack, unlike the one that had preceded it, was aimed at Ujjayini’s wall, forcing the defenders on the walkway to scurry for cover.

“I don’t think they are within range of our bows and arrows,” the soldier said as he and Shanku ducked behind a parapet. “We will only end up wasting arrows if we try shooting back. We must wait for them to draw closer.”

Shanku nodded, but didn’t reply. She waited for the arrows to stop falling before rising and stepping off the watchtower. She climbed down the narrow metal ladder, and on reaching ground level, she walked briskly to the northern gate, where a couple of officers of the City Watch stood conferring.

“I’m going out into the plain,” she announced without preamble. “I need ten of the best horse archers you can muster to ride with me.”

The officers stared at Shanku, shaking their heads in incomprehension. Some of the soldiers standing nearby had overheard her and exchanged bewildered glances. Finally, one of the officers spoke.

“But your honor, the raj-guru has sent an order forbidding us from opening the gates or venturing into the plain,” he said. His fellow officers nodded vigorously in mounting alarm.

“I know that. But we can’t just sit back and watch those arrows reduce Ujjayini to ashes.” Shanku began tightening the harness of her horse as she spoke. “We need to engage the enemy in battle and start inflicting some losses on them.”

“And you intend doing that by riding out there with just ten horse archers?” The officer’s voice strained with incredulity.

“Yes, I have a plan. But first get me the men I want. And ask the archers on the wall to be on full alert.”

***

There was nothing remarkable about the two long swords that lay on the table, side by side. Their sheaths were made of some ancient animal hide, shiny brown in some places, dark and scuffed in others. The blades themselves were concealed from view, but the heavy iron hilts, though free of oxidation, were plain and lacking in adornment.

The swords simply didn’t look as if they were worthy of belonging to a king.

Yet, when Vikramaditya strode into the anteroom next to his bedchamber, he made straight for the table and picked up one of the weapons. Taking a firm grip on the hilt, he drew the sword a little way out of its scabbard to inspect it. The burnished blade, gleaming dull yellow in the light of the lamps, caught the reflection of the king’s eyes, seething with cold rage.

But a moment later, the metal turned deep orange in color, and then fiery red, burning with incandescence as small blue-green flames erupted and danced, ghostlike, on its surface.

You are the one I have sought for so many years, good king. You are the one destined to wield the Hellfires. Accept them, for they are rightfully yours.

Vikramaditya thrust the weapon back into its sheath, snuffing out the flames and killing the glow of the blade. The swords hadn’t been used in years, yet, to his relief, they still retained their powers. Not that he had cause to doubt what the demon Laayushi had told him of the Hellfires...

Without wasting more time, the samrat buckled the swords to his belt, one on each side of his waist, harnessed in a manner that allowed for an easy cross-handed draw. Then, pulling on his metal armguards, he walked out of the room. He was halfway down one of the inner galleries when Angamitra, the young samsaptaka captain, accosted him. The captain was in the company of an old man with a fine white beard and gray eyes – Sadguna, the chief of the Palace Guards.

“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.