Rajiv Menon -- ThunderGod (30 page)

Finally, the day arrived when Sachi missed her first moon. Although the royal family tried to keep it quiet, the news spread like wildfire around Aryavarta. A grand sacrifice was planned to thank the gods for this gift.

On the appointed day, the royal couple made a rare public appearance together. The two of them held hands through the ceremony. The priests finished the rituals with a prayer for the good health and long life of the heir.

Then Indra stood up to address the gathering. He thanked them all for their blessings. He then informed the surprised citizens that he had taken a vow of celibacy. Until he avenged his father's death, he would not lie with his wife again. Sachi pretended to unhappy about the announcement, although every word that Indra had spoken was at her behest.

Weeks passed and Indra hid himself in his tent, drank copious amounts of wine and tried to come to terms with his grief. Sachi's face haunted him in his sleep and waking hours. Her cold words still rang in his ears. Nothing seemed to interest him any more. Even Mitra's departure had not upset him; he drowned himself in wine, somehow convinced it would take away his pain.

Early one morning, after a heavy night of drinking, he heard his name being called. He did not even look up from where he lay.

'Go away, Soma! Leave me alone.'

'I'm sorry, my lord. It is I, Nala. There is something you should see.'

Indra sat up; his head throbbed as he forced himself to open his eyes. He remembered he had meant to recall Nala from his frontier posting and then completely forgotten about it. He was glad to note that the great archer was well and back in Aryavarta. Something about his tone and expression now made Indra take notice. When he finally stepped out of the tent, what he saw took his breath away. Standing before him was Travistr on a magnificent war chariot.

'Greetings, Raja Indra! I have travelled long and far to offer my services to you.'

Indra gazed at the chariot: it was made from bronze and wood and the craftsmanship was exquisite. He had to tear his eyes away from it to look at the man, but when he did, he immediately sensed from his aura that this was no ordinary mortal.

'Who are you?'

The man smiled, and Indra heard his voice clearly in his head.

'I am as much a mortal as you are, my king.'

Aloud, he said, 'I'm Travistr. Weapons are my trade.' He gestured to the chariot. 'Please join me.'

After weeks, Indra was not assailed with thoughts of Sachi. He circled the chariot, studying it closely. It could accommodate a rider and a warrior on the footplate. He climbed in and Travistr took off. The chariot flew across the meadow, the two horses working perfectly in tandem as Travistr pulled off a series of sharp turns and manoeuvres.

Indra was stunned by the chariot's performance. He picked up one of the bows lying in the chariot and let fly a few arrows. The vehicle was fast, yet stable enough to give him more mobility and accuracy than if he were on a horse. As they got back to where Nala and Soma waited, he noticed the arsenal that the chariot carried: there were javelins, extra quivers of arrows and an assortment of other weapons. That was it; all his sorrows and heartache from the recent past were forgotten. His voice shook with the excitement of a child being presented with his favourite toy.

'Can you make me a thousand of these?'

Travistr nodded.

'Give me fifty of your best craftsmen, and I will have them ready by spring.'

Indra got down from the chariot and walked around it, still admiring the workmanship.

'You shall have a hundred, and whatever else you require. Soma, see to it at once. Now if there is nothing else, I would like to drive this chariot.'

'One more thing, my lord.'

Travistr had a sword strapped to his back, a practice not favoured by the Devas, who preferred to wear their blades on the hip. He now unstrapped it and presented it to the king.

Indra looked at the finely worked scabbard. It was made of black leather with silver trims. The hilt of the sword was simple, with a soft black leather cord wound around the handle and a giant crystal at its end. As he held it in his hands, he realised that it was at least five times heavier than his own blade. But for his divine strength, he would have found it hard to wield it.

He unsheathed the blade and saw that it was black and straight with twin edges that had been honed to razor sharpness. As he swung the weapon in a few practice strokes, he was pleased to note that in spite of its weight, its balance was perfect. This was a sword fit for a god. Indra was sure there was no other weapon of its kind in the world. Eager to test it, he asked Nala and Soma to attack, and the two warriors drew their swords and readily obliged.

Two bronze swords came at him from opposite sides, aimed at his neck. Indra stepped back and swept the sword upwards in an overhead block. The black blade cut through their weapons like they were a pair of sticks. The broken blades fell at Indra's feet.

The awe in Indra's voice was unmistakable.

'It is a formidable weapon. But it belongs to you.'

Travistr shook his head and laughed.

'I only made the sword, my lord, but I'm not worthy enough to wield it. It is only the greatest warriors in the world who have had the privilege to carry this sword into battle. On the death of its owner, the sword returns to me. Till it finds a new master.'

Indra was curious.

'Are you telling me the sword finds its own master?'

'Yes, my lord. Look at the blade again.'

Indra examined the shiny black surface of the blade; just above the hilt, emblazoned in letters of gold, was the word, 'INDRA'.

'Does it have a name?'

'Kadaag. That was what it was named, in a long forgotten tongue.'

'What does it mean?'

'Unstoppable.'

'It is well named,' said Indra as he turned his attention back to the man.

'Why do you come to me with such wondrous gifts? What is it that you seek?'

A flicker of emotion entered Travistr's eyes for one brief moment and then he was back to his inscrutable self as he replied.

'I am to aid you in the fulfilment of your destiny. I seek no favours or reward for this. It is my karma.'

'Then I am indeed fortunate. Thank you, my lord.'

Indra sheathed the blade and tied the scabbard around his waist. He leapt into the chariot and drove away with a wave of his hand.

***

The next few months went by quickly and the first few chariots arrived. The Deva warriors, adept horsemen that they were, quickly adapted to their new method of warfare. Soma, in particular, excelled in the art of driving the chariot. He assumed charge of training the horses and took his place as Indra's charioteer.

Travistr was true to his word. As the winter-frost melted over the meadows of Gandhar, a thousand Deva chariots were ready to march to war.

On the night before the eve of their departure, Indra lay in his tent, unable to sleep. The time had come for him to avenge the death of his father and reassert the might of the Devas across the plains of Central Asia. King Shalla and the city of Susa would soon feel the might of his black sword.

The troops had been called to muster at dawn, and the men were glad to get the chance to say goodbye to their families. Indra had appointed Paras as regent in his place. He now bid the warrior farewell. To Mahisi, he entrusted the care of Sachi and the child that would soon be born to them. He hoped the time away would heal her wounds and she would one day forgive him and truly be his wife.

The whole of Aryavarta gathered at dawn to bid farewell to the raja and his army as they began the long march westward. Indra marched at the head of the column, his shining armour and flowing locks of gold making him look every inch a god. As he acknowledged the blessings and good wishes of his subjects, his eyes searched the crowd in the hope that he would see Sachi, but he was disappointed.

The column started to pick up pace as they left the city. It was the largest army that the tribe had ever mustered. Indra had split them into four divisions of two hundred and fifty chariots each. While one of the divisions was under his direct command, Nala, Atreya and Puru led the other three. The mood was buoyant as the bards who marched along began to sing their songs. Every soldier's face shone with pride and excitement in the anticipation of the glory that awaited him.

Their progress was swift and soon the army found itself on the western border of their land at the confluence of the Mara and the Mittani. Travistr and his team of craftsmen had left earlier and been extremely busy. As a testimony to their efforts, the army found a dock ready with fifteen giant barges tethered there. They wasted no time in getting the chariots and horses on board and soon the little flotilla began to make its way west.

The river basin at the confluence was full of water from the winter ice melts and the swift-flowing current greatly aided them in their progress. The journey was largely uneventful, barring a few swift rapids. In some places they had to disembark, dismantle the barges and carry them overland till the river became navigable again. For the soldiers who had never seen a life outside the paradise of Gandhar, this was an adventure of a lifetime.

It was with some sense of relief that they finally emerged out of the mountains on to the vast plains of Central Asia. As they disembarked, Indra gave the order to burn the boats. The men knew that there was no going back now. Indra took his place once again at the head of the column and raised the black sword in the air.

'To Susa!'

The cry was echoed by over two thousand enthusiastic voices.

***

Timon, chief of Shalla's espionage network, paced nervously outside the royal chamber. It was well past midnight, certainly not a good time to wake the king. But such were the circumstances--he had no choice. The huge doors were thrown open and Shalla stepped out in all his naked glory.

Drowsily, he asked, 'Timon? Your face at this time of the night can only mean the news is not good.'

Timon knew his master well: it was best to come straight to the point where bad news was concerned.

'Your eastern and southern garrisons have been destroyed, my lord.'

Shalla was now wide awake; he could not believe his ears.

'Destroyed! What do you mean, destroyed? We are talking about two thousand soldiers.'

'Slaughtered, my lord. Down to the last man. Both camps were attacked simultaneously. No one was left alive.'

Shalla sat down and racked his alcohol-addled brain. Only Sargon the Asura would have both the gall and the potential to send an army out against him. But his kingdom lay to the west, and Shalla had his spies all over Sumer monitoring the Asura king's every move. This could not be Sargon--but then who? The whole thing did not make sense to him.

'Did you see the men who did this?'

Timon nodded gravely.

'They move swiftly on horse-drawn vehicles and are faster than any cavalry I have ever seen. Their present camp is a day's march from these walls. I have my men watching them. If they march at dawn, they will be here before the sun sets tomorrow.'

Shalla struggled to keep calm as he turned to one of his guards.

'Awaken General Druma. Ask him to summon the War Council.'

***

Indra and his commanders sat around the fire at the Deva camp, their mood a bit forlorn. Atreya, who had led a team of scouts to reconnoitre the fort, had just returned and finished his report. Indra was the first to break the silence.

'Hmm, forty foot walls of sandstone. Anyone have any ideas?'

'What about the gates?' Soma asked.

Atreya turned to him. He had bribed some nomadic shepherds who lived around the city and managed to extract some information from them.

'Good question! The Moon Gates of Susa are made of oak at least three feet thick and reinforced with bronze plates. They need twenty bullocks working in two teams to open and close them every day. There are at least three hundred archers and spearmen in the parapet above the gates. To take a battering ram to it will not be easy without a sizable infantry battalion.'

Travistr stepped out of the darkness into the firelight. He addressed Indra, speaking with quiet determination.

'Make camp and wait for me within sight of the gates. I will get your chariots into the city.'