Rajiv Menon -- ThunderGod (32 page)

'Indra is the hope of my people. He is the one who will unite my warring kinsmen under one great nation. How can I be selfish and seek moksha when the fate of my people is in jeopardy? He is still young and does not know of the peril he is in. He thinks he is going into a battle of his choosing, but Ishtar will destroy him, or worse, turn him into her slave.'

The hermit laughed heartily.

'Your concern for your people is noted, but you forgot to mention that this Indra has become like a son to you. Go Mitra! Go back to your tapas.'

***

Indra, charged on the soma, ran up the steep stairs of the ziggurat. He made swift progress, taking several steps at a time. The temple guards tried in vain to challenge him. The black sword whirled in the air and their bodies toppled down the stairs into the bloody plaza. He entered the main temple, his eyes searching frantically for her. The priests fled at the sight of him. Only the high priest, a wizened old man, pointed his staff at him and started to utter a curse. Indra drove the black sword through the man's chest, cutting off the words in his throat. He did not even break his stride as he leapt over the dead body of Braega and continued to make his way up the stairs to the very top of the monument.

Ishtar watched the handsome demon come to her with a smile. It was time for her to play her hand in this battle. Indra entered the private chambers of the goddess of Susa. There was an alluring fragrance of jasmine blossoms in the air. As Indra took a deep breath, his rage and blood lust from the fierce battle left him. He stopped and took a look around. The chamber was made up of the whitest marble that glistened like a pearl in the moonlight. He dropped his sword and took in the sublime setting. Then he saw her and his heart leapt in his chest.

It was Sachi, dressed in her wedding finery. This time her smile was warm and inviting. Indra stood transfixed by her beauty. She came close to him, her face near his. Her warm breath in his ear drove him wild with desire as she whispered, 'Come, husband! You must be tired. Let me take care of you.'

She took off his armour and tunic and led him naked to a tub filled with warm, aromatic water. Indra sank into its depth, welcoming its warmth. Her eyes hungrily devoured his naked body as she stood in front of him and slowly disrobed. Indra's throat went dry and the breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. She climbed in with him and began to gently cleanse his wounds with a soft washcloth. Under her breath she began to hum one of his favourite songs. Indra closed his eyes and threw his head back. Her hands caressed his body all over, removing all the tiredness and pain. Then they slowly moved between his legs. Indra felt a stab of desire unlike anything he had felt before. He grabbed her and pulled her towards him.

Ishtar laughed with delight as Indra carried her in his arms and rose from the tub. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. This was going to be a lot easier than she'd thought. When he placed her down on the bed, she spread her legs and allowed him to enter her. She felt the divine energy that pulsated through him and moaned with desire. Soon she would draw it out of him along with his seed.

Ishtar had long ceased to enjoy the sexual act. For her, it had become a potent weapon that she had mastered. She enjoyed the entrapment and the subsequent destruction of her adversaries through sex, more than the act itself. Yet, this time it was different. As she looked at the beautiful man who lay on top of her, she felt a desire rise within her quite unlike anything she had felt before. She shut her eyes and began to cry out in pleasure. Indra quickened his rhythm; his breathing grew ragged as he neared his sweet release. She cupped her hands around his buttocks and pushed her hips up to meet his thrusts.

Suddenly she became aware of another presence. She opened her eyes and looked out of the window up at the moon. A shadow began to creep over it. The cool breeze had stopped. The fragrance in the air was gone, replaced by the revolting smell of burnt flesh and rotten carcasses. Then she heard a voice in her head, gruff, and filled with rage.

'Your time is up, you old crone. No more will you lure innocent young men to their destruction. Come! It is time for you and me to play.'

She shivered in fear as she recognised the voice.

Bhairav! What was he doing here? Her eyes darted about the room, and then she saw him, leaning against one of the pillars. He was a fearsome sight. Matted locks hung down to his feet. His beard was long and unkempt. His naked, muscular body was dark and shone like anthracite. A necklace of severed human heads hung against his chest. In one hand he held a fearsome-looking sickle, and in the other, he carried a bowl fashioned from the top of a human skull. She tried not to look at his huge, engorged phallus, but her eyes were automatically drawn to it. He laughed and stuck his tongue out at her. It was bright red and dripped with fresh blood.

Ishtar suddenly felt Indra's lips on hers; he kissed her gently, yet passionately. All his love for Sachi went into that kiss. For a brief second she closed her eyes, swayed by the intensity of his emotions. Then she felt his hands on her shoulder as he roughly pushed her down and thrust violently into her. She opened her eyes and looked into Indra's eyes. They had turned a deep black. Ishtar saw her own terror reflected in them. His thrusts grew harder and more violent. She felt he was going to tear her apart and tried to resist but to no avail. As a Tantric, she knew she had no equal, but the being that opposed her now was Tantra itself. She tried hard to regain control, to bring her mind back to face the dire peril she was in, but found herself unable to do anything but surrender to the pleasure. She screamed with every thrust as she approached an orgasm.

Ishtar shuddered violently, her mouth frozen in a brilliant smile. She was in the throes of ecstasy when Bhairav bested her at her own game and drew out her prana through his phallus. He then left Indra's body in a blaze of light. The impact of his departure threw Indra across the chamber, against the wall. He got to his feet, shaken. Sachi was gone; where she had lain was another woman. Then right before his eyes, the strange woman began to change. She started to age, her flesh began to melt away and her hair began to fall out in clumps. The skin on her face withered and fell away, revealing a skull that began to crumble. Soon all that was left of the patron goddess of Susa was a pile of ash.

A dazed Indra donned his clothing and armour, gathered his sword and left the temple. He was not sure what had happened, but he knew he had been in way over his head and was lucky to come out of that encounter alive. He looked down and saw that the Devas had taken the city. The Elamite army had been slaughtered down to the last man. As he reached the palace, the dead had been removed and the civilian population herded into the square. They cowered in fear when they saw him. They were like cattle, he thought to himself. He would sacrifice them to his ancestors and the gods.

Nala and Atreya brought a visibly shaken Shalla before him. The Elamite king still could not come to terms with his loss. He tried to bribe Indra with treasure, he offered him his daughters. He continued to bargain for his life even as Indra swung the black sword. Shalla's severed head rolled down the steps and fell at the feet of his frightened people.

Indra had done his duty as a son and avenged his father. Yet the act gave him no satisfaction. There was a tiny vestige of Bhairav still left in his body and it gave him an insatiable thirst for blood. He contemplated wading into the crowd with his sword and taking off their heads. His men stood around, their weapons drawn as they eagerly awaited his orders to do the same.

Just then Soma entered with a prisoner. Indra noticed that his friend treated the man with respect, something he did not do very often. The man was dressed like a bard who had long seen better days. In his hand was an old harp that looked in far better condition than its master. He had the vacant gaze of a blind man.

'I found him on a street corner, he was singing through the battle.'

Indra gave a sigh of exasperation.

'So why didn't you just slit his throat? Why do you bring him to me?'

Soma lowered his voice as he approached him.

'The song he was singing. I think you should listen to it.'

Indra shrugged. 'After what this victory has cost us, I could use some distraction. And these people might enjoy a song before they die. You may begin, old man.'

The bard stepped forward and began to strum on his harp and sing. He had a beautiful, clear voice and he sang of a great battle within the confines of a mountain pass. As the song progressed, tears ran down the faces of Indra and his Devas. The lyrics exalted the bravery of Raja Daeyus and his army of sixty. The bard was none other than Captain Nehat, the officer who had first led the Elamite cavalry into the pass. He had given up his life as a soldier and lived all these years as a street bard. He had composed this ballad in honour of a brave enemy.

The entire square was silent as his song ended. Indra looked at his men. There were many among them who had lost a parent or relative in the battle at the Pass of the Wolves. No one had known what exactly transpired there. To now hear such a glowing account of the bravery of their fathers moved them beyond measure. Indra wiped away his tears and addressed the old man.

'You have pleased me beyond my expectations, old man. Ask of me what you wish.'

'Spare my city and its people, oh king!'

It was a bold request to make, but Indra did not hesitate to comply.

'Granted! Ransack the palace and the temple. Take all their weapons and horses. But spare the people and the city.'

Soma waited for the others to leave before he turned to Indra.

'How can you spare the city? Our men will want their share of the spoils.'

'Divide the treasure of the palace and the temple among them.'

'But those belong to you by right.'

Indra laughed.

'What use are these baubles to me now, Soma! I am a god.'

11

The west wind blew across from the vast open wilderness of Central Asia. Indra stood alone on the ramparts of Susa, lost in thought. The cold wind did nothing to quell the feverish intensity that coursed through his body. He longed for a drink of soma, but just the idea of making his way back to the palace for it was exhausting. The last two weeks had been lost to the pleasures of Shalla's extensive harem. The young wives and daughters of the erstwhile king had eagerly opened their arms to their handsome, young conquerors. It had taken all Indra's willpower to lure himself away from those beautiful women and Soma's brew.

He looked at the land through which his ancestors had fought and plundered their way from their distant homeland in the north. He had grown up on the songs of their journey through the land of the two great rivers, Tigris and Euphrates. Now he knew they watched over him from the heavens.

The sound of footsteps brought him back to the present. Two of his men arrived leading a prisoner between them. They threw the man at Indra's feet.

'We found a tunnel going under the walls and kept a watch on it. He was found trying to sneak out of the city. He says he has useful information for you, my lord.'

Indra looked down. The man grovelling at his feet did not seem like someone from the city.

'Why do you try to sneak off like a thief at night when I have spared your city and your miserable lives?'

The man did not lift his head. His voice shook with terror as he spoke.

'My lord, this city is not safe any more. The Asura General Bhadra marches towards us from the west with an army of five thousand warriors.'

'Who are you? How do you have this information?'

The man looked up with a smile. He had a keen instinct for self-preservation, and it told him that everything was now going to be all right.

'I am Timon of Ashkavan. I have more information about what goes on in these lands than any man in this city.'

'Your life will depend on the truth of your claim. Take him away and question him thoroughly. By tomorrow I want to know everything there is to know about this army that marches against us.'

The thought of another battle filled Indra with excitement. But he would not fight it cowering within these walls. It would be fought on the open plain; the earth would soon run red with Asura blood. He now needed some soma more than ever. He hurried off in the direction of the palace.

***

General Bhadra watched in amusement as the two officers of Susa were presented to him. One of them, a pompous barrel-chested soldier, was the first to speak.

'Greetings, General! We are the commanders of the western and northern garrisons of Susa. Our city has fallen and our king is dead.'

General Bhadra raised his eyebrows in astonishment. He of all people knew how formidable a task it was to take the city of Susa. He had been planning it for years. He now stood up to his full height. Even among the Asuras, who were a big-made people, Bhadra was something of a giant. He stood eight feet tall, and his enormous body was covered with hair. He studied the two men, who had stepped back in awe at the sight of his imposing bulk.