Rajiv Menon -- ThunderGod (40 page)

'Is there no other way?'

The merchant nodded.

'There is another way, my lord, though I do not know anyone who has successfully taken it. If you head south to the oasis of Ashkavan, with a little luck and a lot of gold you may be able to find guides to escort you east to Harappa.'

Soma, who had been keeping their host under close observation, now spoke.

'If it is easy to find guides in Ashkavan, how is it you do not know of anyone who has successfully taken that route? If you have kept something from us, be sure I will be back to find you to carve your tongue out.'

The merchant squealed in terror.

'I did not say it was easy, my lords! The desert nomads of Ashkavan are godless bastards who will betray their own mother if there was profit in it. They call the land to the east Um Bakher; in their tongue it means "the long thirst". It is an endless expanse of parched earth where nothing grows. In my humble opinion, you are better off taking your chances on the mountain. At least death will be quicker and more merciful.'

Just then one of his slaves, her eyes and mind focused on Indra, spilt some wine on his clothes. The merchant screamed abuse and threw his wine goblet at her. The metal cup hit her on the forehead, causing a deep gash. The servants quickly removed her from the hall. The merchant apologised for the behaviour of his slave, citing the excuse that she was new and untrained. He promised to give her a good thrashing and set her right. The incident ended the evening on a sour note. Indra and his entourage thanked the merchant and took their leave.

Early the next morning, unnoticed by anyone in the caravan, a little pigeon flew out of one of the tents and winged its way out in a south-westerly direction.

***

It was well into spring when Indra and his men began the gruelling first leg of the journey to the oasis of Ashkavan. The decision to take that route had been a unanimous one. They were a few days' march from the great river Mittani when a scout rode up to inform Indra that they were being followed. He had been on a rise ahead and spotted the dust cloud raised by a small bunch of horses a half day's march from the rear of their column.

Indra asked Atreya to take charge and keep the column moving while he and Soma saddled up a couple of mares and went off to investigate. It was dark by the time they spotted the light of the campfire made by the strangers. They dismounted and made their way ahead cautiously. In the light of the fire, they saw the outline of three horses against the stark landscape. Three men, bundled up in blankets, were lying around the fire, fast asleep.

Indra and Soma drew their swords and approached the men cautiously; the bodies did not stir. Soma used his sword and moved the blanket aside. Saddlebags had been arranged to look like men asleep.

Suddenly they heard a voice; it was reproachful in its tone.

'Indra and Soma! Brash and impulsive, as always! Do you'll not remember anything that Master Mitra taught you?'

Indra shouted out in joy as he recognised the voice.

'Varuna! I'm so happy to hear your voice. It's about time you three lazy louts showed up.'

Three arrows flew out of the darkness at them, and Indra and Soma easily knocked them aside with their swords. Three men walked into the firelight. Agni gave one of his guffaws.

'I'm glad their reflexes have not dulled like their wits.'

The men ran to each other and warmly embraced. Agni playfully wrestled Soma to the ground. Vayu grabbed Indra in a bear hug while Varuna ruffled his hair. For a moment, all five of them were transported back to their happy and carefree childhood in Gandhar.

The five of them spent the next few days exchanging stories of their adventures. They finally arrived at the crossing of the river Mittani where it cut through the arid plains before it emptied itself in the western gulf. As they took a dip in the familiar waters, Indra was reminded of Aryavarta. He asked his three friends of news of his queen Sachi and his people. He was surprised to note that they were unusually evasive. He prodded further, and was shocked at their revelations.

At first he was overjoyed to learn that he was the father of a beautiful baby boy, Jayantha. His first impulse was to postpone the siege of Harappa and follow the course of the river upstream all the way back to Aryavarta. He could not wait to see his wife and child. With the birth of their son, surely Sachi would have forgiven him, he thought. But he learnt to his dismay that he could not have been further from the truth.

Varuna, Vayu and Agni took turns to relate the events that had occurred in Aryavarta since his departure. The three of them had finished their training with Bhrigu and returned to an Aryavarta that they barely recognised. Makara, the new high priest, informed them that Indra had perished at the hands of Sargon the Asura. They were also told that the citizens now preferred to call themselves Vasus, instead of Devas.

To his further dismay, Indra heard that his friend and regent Paras had died in a riding accident under mysterious circumstances. The Sabha had appointed Sachi as the new regent to the crown prince Jayantha. General Kanak, who refused to be called anything but a Deva and had opposed the new regent's plan to change the name of the clan, had been struck by a strange malady. His body had wasted away before he'd finally died.

Sachi, on her part, had invited the three of them for a meal but denied them access to the young prince Jayantha. Mahisi had advised them not to touch the wine and they had used the revelry as a distraction to swap goblets with the people next to them. The next day, sure enough, three of Sachi's cronies had taken violently ill.

Mahisi informed them that there had never been any substantiation to the rumours about Indra's death. She had arranged horses to get them out of town quickly and they had ridden to Susa, where stories of Indra's exploits in Sumer were being sung on the streets. From then on it had been easy to pick up their trail.

Indra was appalled at the intensity of Sachi's hatred towards him. Time and his absence had done nothing to diminish it. It was clear that she had set out to erase all traces of his memory from Aryavarta. According to Mahisi, she had told Jayantha that his father was a god who watched over him from heaven. His son had no idea his father was still alive. It was with a heavy heart that the Deva king continued the journey across the desert.

***

Ugra, commander-in-chief of the city of Harappa, stood on the balcony of a rather modest house on a hill and surveyed the city that lay spread out in front of him. It was the early hours of morning, just before sunrise, and the city was beginning to awaken. He had been unable to sleep; the news that he had heard would ensure that this would be the case for many nights to come. He had just returned from the temple where he had learnt about Indra and his plans for Harappa.

Ugra's body was beginning to show the first signs of age, his waist had started to thicken and his thick, curly hair showed the first signs of grey. He thought back over the years he had spent serving this great city. Ugra's rise in the Harappa social hierarchy had been meteoric and unprecedented. From his humble origins as a slave, he was now one of the most powerful and influential men in the city.

Harappa had changed much in all these years. The prosperity and wealth had brought a sense of complacency and security amongst its citizens. It had been years since the Harappans had been to war or even had an army of their own. They relied on loyal slaves and mercenaries to do the job.

Now, the task of protecting Harappa from this latest threat lay squarely on Ugra's shoulders. He had no great army or high walls to defend the city. Although from what he had heard of the siege on Susa, walls did not present a problem for this barbarian and his horde.

The sun came up and Ugra decided that he could not wait any longer. He called out to his aide and asked the man to send word to convene the Supreme Council.

Later that morning, Ugra stood before the ruling body of Harappa and delivered his report. The council, which comprised of five oligarchs chosen from the richest and most powerful families of Harappa, now huddled together to confer. Ugra looked up at a small window that overlooked the assembly hall. There behind a veiled curtain sat Anga, high priestess of the temple of Raksha, the source of his information. He had never felt the need to question her sources; her information was always reliable and accurate.

Anga was a statuesque, beautiful woman. As with all the women of her priesthood, she did not wear any jewellery and only adorned herself with jasmine flowers. Raksha was a goddess who demanded austerity from her worshippers.

The old men were still talking in hushed whispers and Anga noticed how Ugra was trying to control his impatience. She recalled with a smile how he had been such an impatient lover; it had taken all her skill to teach him the benefits of patience, and now he was an expert. He did not make her feel the need to take on another lover any more. As she watched the proceedings unfold below her, a frown appeared on her perfect brow.

This one they called Indra worried her. She had heard about how the skies had rained fire on Susa and destroyed its mighty gates. Either this man was a god, or he had the sky gods on his side. No ordinary man could think of crossing the Um Bakher with an army. He had to be either very courageous or completely insane. From what she had heard of Indra, he seemed to have both these traits.

Anga knew she could not rely on the oligarchs to defend the city. She'd already made plans to make this extremely difficult journey an impossible one for Indra and his Devas.

The oligarchs appeared finally to have arrived at some consensus. Their spokesman, Marat, the most pompous of them all, now cleared his throat as he addressed Ugra.

'You say this Indra is trying to cross the desert with over two thousand men. I say he is a fool. The desert will finish them long before they see our borders.'

Ugra tried to hide the irritation that crept up in his voice. These were the very men who had prevented him from maintaining an army or building any defences.

'My lord, this man has sacked Susa. He killed the Asura Bhadra in single combat. He is the only man to inflict a defeat on Sargon's army. He leads an army of determined warriors such as our world has not seen. It is said that they will follow him to hell and back. I'd say there is plenty of reason to worry. We must call on the Alliance to get every man they can muster.'

The Alliance was a motley crew that comprised the chieftains of all the neighbouring tribes. It had been formed to protect the land against outside invasion. But it was Harappan gold more than any patriotism that kept it together.

The oligarchs huddled together once again to confer.

***

It was sunset on the desert as Indra gave the order to march. In the fading light, on the horizon, they could see the glow of the lamps of Ashkavan. The first part of their journey through the desert had largely been uneventful; their water reserves had seen them through. Now they would reach the oasis by sunrise.

The oasis of Ashkavan was a refuge for a veritable rogues' gallery of the ancient world. Thieves, bandits, political criminals and all manner of fugitives from justice found safety in its remoteness. It was a lawless, dog-eat-dog kind of a world that existed within its streets. Murders and robberies were rife; justice was often cruel and meted out instantly with the help of a club or blade.

Indra was cautious in his approach to the settlement. He made camp a fair distance away and sent in a few men to replenish their water and supplies. Later in the evening, he and the Falcons went into Ashkavan to visit the local taverns. Their objective was to make discreet enquiries for a guide to take them across the Um Bakher.

As they made their way through the streets, they were amazed at the life they saw around them. It was one big carnival: there were musicians, dancers and acrobats. The street corners were filled with hawkers selling all kinds of exotic wares. As they weaved through the crowd, they saw a disagreement occur in front of them. Within minutes the two principals had cleared out an area in the throng and a knife fight ensued. Meanwhile, an enterprising onlooker began to accept wagers. Indra had to drag a very tempted Agni and Soma away from the action.

They soon found a tavern that they thought would best suit their needs and entered. There was a lull in conversation as the regular patrons surveyed the strangers. The Devas walked up to the bar where Indra ordered some wine. Slowly the crowd lost interest in them and went back to whatever it was they were doing before the interruption. The tavern keeper was a surly-looking old man. He served them the wine and immediately put out his hand to collect the money. Indra decided this would be a good place to start their enquiry.

'We are looking for the relatives of Timon of Ashkavan.'

The man studied them carefully. Although they were unarmed and dressed as peasants, their build and the way they carried themselves told him these were fighting men of the highest order.