NOVEL NEXT Chapter 8: Defence and Offence
Jatayu is falling.
Aryaman’s mind went numb when he had heard it. The Dayita kingdom had a simple set of coded missives for emergency situations. This particular one meant – return at once and report to the king. Unless it was an urgent situation, missives such as these were not sent in order to prevent their misuse and abuse. Truly urgent situations were rare and this phrase had not been used in a long time.
Aryaman remembered that they had not even used it to communicate the situation of the demons and the corpses to General Pushya. But then General Pushya had a firm opinion about demons and gods. According to him, the matters related to the other worlds did not concern humans. So, even if General Pushya had received the missive, he would not have appreciated being summoned back to the kingdom for fighting undead corpses. He would relegate these matters to the priests or shamans.
My army is to protect the kingdom from the perils of the human world, he would have said with a stern look and steel eyes.
As Himmat galloped towards the city, Aryaman tried to take deep breaths to calm himself down. He was agitated about the safety of the king. Nothing should happen to father, he thought. Aryaman tried to reason with himself that it was something other than the king being in danger. If the king was indeed in danger, such missives would not have been sent in the first place. But rationality and emotions hardly went together. Even the decision he had made, to go against the king, put him in great mental agony. In this entire world, for Aryaman, his father meant everything. If the king had asked him for his life, Aryaman would give it up for the king without a second thought.
Think of alternatives, Aryaman told himself. Maybe it’s an external threat. Or maybe the issue of the demons got resolved. The forest was empty, wasn’t it? Maybe, they retreated.
The contours of the city's outer walls became visible as Aryaman rode closer towards Arang. The outposts and watchtowers were lit and were being patrolled by the royal guards.
If the curfew had not been there, the large city outer gates might have been open. The city was trader and traveler-friendly and its gates were always open for visitors. Several merchants preferred traveling at night as it would save their daytime for trade. The western and southern travel routes were made safe from bandits a few decades earlier. This has led to increase in trade and prosperity for the Dayita kingdom. However, the closure of the city because of the demons and corpses temporarily put a hold on the burgeoning trade.
When Aryaman reached the city gates, they were thus closed behind the moat. The guards were all on the other side. Aryaman whistled in code to catch the attention of the guards. One of the guards from the turret right above Aryaman looked down towards him. In the darkness, he could only see the dark figure of a man on a horse. Aryaman lit a small torch he carried and held it up such that it threw light on the royal sigil held with his other hand. It had the golden emblem of a lion.
The royal guard at once shouted and gave orders for the gates to be opened. Four to five guards got to work and pulled the levers on either side of the gates. The heavy wooden doors opened slowly and a wooden plank was laid for the prince to cross over the moat and enter the city.
“Why are we afraid of a group of plundering mercenaries?” asked the chief of royal guards.
“No wonder you couldn’t prevent the prince from escaping,” said the prime minister in return. The chief of royal guard’s face became red with anger and embarrassment. He bit his tongue to avoid starting a verbal battle with the prime minister; he did not want to fall further from grace with the king, who was quietly watching the exchange between the two.
“Even strong kingdoms have vulnerable moments,” continued the prime minister. “We have to acknowledge the constraints on our side. General Pushya has the majority of the army. We have some backup cavalry and the royal guards but they may not be useful in guerrilla warfare.”
“The Kapala Army does not follow the ethics of war, they do not wage any dharmayuddha. They are the master experts in kutayuddha. Their motive is only plunder and destruction. If they make Northern Mines their base, it would make it convenient for them to retreat. Ultimately, it would become a war of attrition. We are running low on supplies. They may force us to open the gates or starve us in. Either way, if they resort to a waiting game, we would be in deep danger.”
Aryaman entered the war room before the guard outside had finished announcing him. His eyes searched for the king, finding the latter in good state, Aryaman paid his respects. He then turned to the chief of royal guards and pulled both his ears with his hands, gesturing his apology. The chief gave him a curt nod. He wished the prime minister, who smiled at him warmly and quickly briefed him on the matter of the Kapala army.
“That is why we should all the more focus on a quick offence!” said the prince after listening to the whole affair. “We should take them out in the Northern Mines itself before they can reach Arang. That way we can minimize the causalities, civilians will not be affected.”
“The Northern Mines will give them the advantage of terrain,” said the prime minister. “They benefit from the vantage point of the hill and they can hide in the mines. Our troops will be on the plains. It could be disastrous for us.”
“Hmm,” said the prince. “What if we lead them to believe that but keep our tactics varied.”
The prince narrated his strategy in detail to the limited audience. By the end, both the king and the prime minister were convinced. The chief of royal guards thought the plan was a bit far-fetched but did not air his opinions.
General Pushya stood above the chained old man with an eerie look on his face. The scars on his face appeared menacing in the dim light of the prison cell. The whip in his hand quivered from repeated use. He bent down and rested on one knee, the chainmail he wore rattled from the movement. He grabbed the chin of the old man and pushed it up. Exhausted by continuous torture, the old man’s eyes drooped, his breath was pained and uneven.
“Why won’t you tell me where it is?” General Pushya asked again. “Is it more important than your life?… Your family?… Your kingdom?”
The old man did not respond. He held his lips tight.
“You will leave me no choice if you continue like this,” he said. “This sort of idealism is dangerous, old friend.”
The old man murmured something, his voice was inaudible.
“Say what?” said the general.
“You are…,” said the old man raising his voice this time and looking at General Pushya, with the last ounces of his energy. “…not worthy.”
Hearing those words, anger erupted inside the general. He pushed the old man down with force. He tightened his grip on the whip and the prison cell became charged again with the recurring cracking of the lash on the old man’s frail skin.
Aryaman was finally left alone with the king. He stood a few feet from the king, rubbing his hands behind his back. How should I start? he thought. For some time now both of them had been silent, wanting to speak out but words failing each.
“I wish to speak to your highness as a son,” said Aryaman gathering himself.
“Go on,” replied the king quietly.
“I don’t feel good about what you did, father,” said Aryaman. “I know why you did it. You want to test my intentions, whether I would make the right choice when the situation arises. But I don’t like these kinds of tests.” His voice started to break.
“I feel betrayed,” said Aryaman trying to maintain his calm but unable to hold it together. "I feel that...my trust is being taken for granted."
The king looked at his son and was at a loss for words. He extended his hand, it hung in mid-air for some time before he pulled it back.
“I am sorry,” he said at length. “Sometimes, I have to make decisions as a king and not as a father.”
“I understand all of this,” said Aryaman. “I just want you to know I feel hurt even though I know your reasoning behind it.”
“I know,” said the king with an understanding nod. “I do not take your trust for granted, Arya. I need you to believe that.”
Aryaman was quiet. The hard part was over and he started to feel better. He wanted to hug his father. His father wanted to hug him too. Both did not act on their impulses.
“How can I make amends?” asked the king in a gentle tone.
“I don’t want this to be seen as some quid pro quo, father,” said Aryaman and paused for a moment. “When I chose a guru next time, you must not let General Pushya interfere.”
“Hmm,” said the king. “You have my word.”
kutayuddha – devious warfare
dharma-yuddha – righteous warfare