Chapter 3 The Next Course of Action
The lotus key hung suspended by a magic spell above an enchanted bejeweled gold dish. A transparent, barely visible barrier protected it from outside influences, making itself known in random multihued flashes.
A stunned silence reigned when Veer finished recounting his encounter. The expressions on the faces of the people assembled ran the gamut from disbelief to grim horror.
Meru was part of the dormant volcano system in the Vindhyas Mountain range.
Well, they thought it had been inactive, until they discovered otherwise.
Sage Aswi explained that once Meru erupted, it was only a matter of time before other volcanoes in the “ring of fire” were activated as well.
Rajgarh and its three prominent cities lay right in the path of the fire.
There was no way to move entire cities without losing homes and livelihoods. Rajgarh would cease to exist as a kingdom, their people condemned to live without a place to call home.
“You need to ask Amaravathi for help,” said Sage Aswi, his words loud in the grim silence that fell over everyone when Veer recounted what he had seen at the top of the mountain. “The lotus key as it exists now doesn’t work.”
“Pardon me for asking this, but how can you be sure, Sage Aswi?” asked the chief minister. Veer didn’t miss the brief side-eyed glance the chief minister flicked toward him at the mention of Amaravathi.
“I don’t make dire predictions without evidence behind them,” replied Sage Aswi with a bite in his tone, and went up to the suspended lotus. He used his brass utensil to pour holy water on his staff. The transparent barrier put up no resistance when he gently touched his staff to the lotus.
A strange blue iridescence formed on the edge of the petals. The flower began to bloom, revealing glaring gaps where petals should have existed. But then, before the lotus fully unfurled, before they could get another glimpse, the glow died, causing it to curl into itself again.
But what was unmistakable was the ghostly blue image of Amaravathi’s grand palace that had appeared in the central receptacle of the lotus when it unfurled briefly.
“This is the most I can command the lotus to do. Because it obeys the will of the person who can wield it,” said Sage Aswi.
The sage turned to face Bheesmala. “Your Majesty, we are a sect of sages who live in the Vindhyas. Our knowledge isn’t infallible, because it is passed by word of mouth through generations.
But what we know is that the lotus key was last used by a person named Anandi, who later called himself King Amarendra, after his marriage to a princess of a great kingdom.
People speak of his legends down south. It has always been people of his bloodline who could operate the key. And that is why I said Amaravathi.”
He nodded at the closed flower still hovering gently in the air.
“The lotus is a lifesaving key. It seeks to repair itself and, as such, will guide you on how to complete it. As you can see, several key pieces are missing. The image you saw on the lotus is the location of the next key piece. You will need to go on a journey to find all the component pieces, complete the key and then use it on the mechanism at the right time, to stop Meru from erupting.”
* * *
Veer took a break from the discussions of what was to happen next.
He wanted a bath to wash away the soot and grime of the mountain trek, but he walked a short distance to a large rosewood table.
A ring of small mirrors, no bigger than coins, surrounded the circular table, feeding whatever they “saw” into it.
Veer waved his hand over its surface and his father’s magic embedded into enchanted the table recognized him.
A diorama of the subcontinent sprang on the previously smooth surface of the table, with a black line delineating the borders of each of the seven kingdoms. It was a topographical map and was magicked to resemble real-world events.
A small replica of the kingdom of Rajgarh formed at the foothills of Meru, which now reflected the volcano with fire at the top of the mountain.
But Veer’s gaze went farther south, past the great plateau of Vivismati and Hoysyala, the flat plain, where the subcontinent’s three rivers—Narmada, Tripti, and Pravani—merged briefly before going on their own paths.
Past the dense forest belt of the Tapovan, where man and beast dwelled in an uneasy companionship, dwindling out to the evergreen woods that thrived in the tropical climate of the south.
To the borders of Amaravathi. A place he had tried his darndest to forget for the past seven years.
Amaravathi was an old and ancient kingdom with vast wealth and knowledge. There were rumors that its main palace had been built on the remains of an even older kingdom that belonged to the supernatural beings and was said to be indestructible.
Years ago, when Rajgarh had been a fledgling kingdom, King Bheesmala had set out to consolidate their influence by vanquishing the then existing major kingdoms and performing the rajasuya yagna, a ritual of sacred fire, which gave Rajgarh sovereignty over the subcontinent.
And gave him leave to declare himself the emperor of the Saptavarsha.
His march for power came to a head when he encountered Amaravathi on the battlefield.
Three long years of battle followed, with much loss on both sides and the end nowhere in sight. Eventually, a truce was called. And to make sure each of the respective kingdoms held to their end of the bargain, a much deeper relationship than friendship was proposed.
Marriage.
To this day, Veer couldn’t say what made him choose Princess Chandrasena as his wife.
He had met her once before marriage and they had parted that meeting, maybe not as bitter enemies but certainly not as friends.
If he had known that meeting would prove to be a prediction of what his marriage would be like, he would have avoided it like the plague.
Instead, he had married her. Against all the well-meaning advice of their courtiers and against his own better judgment. And she took her revenge by attempting to kill him on the day of their marriage.
Veer might have eventually forgiven her for this transgression because of her status as his wife and a princess of a prestigious kingdom. What he found difficult to forget or forgive was that his dearest childhood friend had died at her hands during that attempt on his life.
Her family was appalled at her actions, but she exhibited no remorse or regret at a publicly held trial the next day, proudly condemning him and their marriage.
He determined her punishment—a dozen rounds of whiplashes to be delivered every year and then abandoned her in Amaravathi for all these years.
Last he heard, she was banished from setting foot in the capital city of Amaravathi. Veer still didn’t think that was enough of a restitution for her crimes.
Since then, he tried his best to avoid any news of her.
If it meant he had to immerse himself in wars, so be it.
That she still walked the earth, a free woman, while his friend’s corpse lay decomposing in the ground, was a permanent wound on his heart that refused to heal despite the passage of time.
A hand fell on his shoulder.
“Are you all right, Veer?” asked King Bheesmala. “Do you need to rest?”
“I’ll rest after a course of action has been decided,” he said, trying to hide his exhaustion.
“Ah, yes. About that…” his father began.
“I’ll be going to Amaravathi, of course,” said Veer, anticipating his father’s words.
Bheesmala looked at his son, square in the eye. “Are you sure? It might mean revisiting the past and letting go of old grudges.”
“I am aware, Father, that there are some who doubt my stability after the incident with Ilavu,” said Veer, stressing over the words.
“However, I’d thank you for showing some faith in me.
I am, after all, your only son. It wouldn’t do for the crown prince to be thought of as so uncompromising that he couldn’t do a simple task of facing his old enemies. ”
“That isn’t what I was referring to and you know it,” said Bheesmala, with mild reproach.
“But it’s in the minds of some of your courtiers,” said Veer, flicking his eyes toward the group of people nearby. Several of them, who had been staring at them, glanced away hastily.
“They’ll follow you, Veer,” said Bheesmala with conviction.
“Oh, I don’t doubt that, Father. But you can’t deny that some of that loyalty is from fear,” said Veer with a grim smile that somehow leeched the expression of any humor.
“Then this is your chance to show them that those fears are groundless. Rescind your wife’s punishment and bring her to her rightful place here. It would go a long way toward appeasing Amaravathi.”
Veer continued to gaze at the diorama not responding to his father’s edict. Ever since he heard they needed Amaravathi’s help, he had known this would be on the table. It didn’t mean he had to like it.
“If we’re considering the descendants of Amarendra, then we cannot discount Thianvelli,” he said almost reflectively. His father, about to turn away, hesitated.
“Thianvelli?” asked Bheesmala, surprised.
“Yes. Amaravathi’s sister kingdom. Both their royal families are descended from a common ancestor. If, as Sage Aswi says, only Amarendra’s ancestors can use the key, then Thianvelli should be a contender too.”
“Thianvelli’s king, Harideva, is dead.” Bheesmala frowned.
“But not his son, Prince Aditya,” argued Veer.
“You would choose an eleven-year-old boy over Prince Bhupathi, the crown prince of Amaravathi and a full-grown man?” asked Bheesmala, incredulously. “That is only slightly worse than taking a woman on this quest.”
The kingdoms of the Saptavarsha were bound by strict societal rules. A woman’s place was considered to be at home, with family or beside a husband, and their movements were more restricted. The pride of a family or clan rested on how well they treated their womenfolk.
As such, women weren’t expected to go on solitary trips without company or with strangers if there were available alternatives. Of course, there were exceptions and regional variations to the levels of freedom women enjoyed.
The king of Amaravathi, Chandraketu, had four queens and seven daughters, but only one son, Prince Bhupathi, which left him as the only viable person to go on this quest to complete the key.
Rajgarh’s advisors were all hoping he would help with this task, because Chandraketu was getting on in years, while Bhupathi was almost the same age as Veer, a man in his prime and suited to the rigors of a tough journey.
Veer’s gaze was distant. “I know I must go to Amaravathi. There is at least one lotus key piece there. I am just trying to bring down the price Amaravathi is going to demand.” He brought his gaze back to his father and gave him a look. “You know they’re going to want Kalpeet.”
Kalpeet was the military fortress given as a bridal price when Veer married Princess Chandrasena.
“Kalpeet belongs to Rajgarh now,” said Bheesmala absently, not even needing to think about it.
He contemplated his son for a while. “I’ll not tell you how to solve this problem, Veer.
Meru is your responsibility from now on.
I only care about the results. Go to Amaravathi or Thianvelli, I don’t care.
I only ask that you take Shota with you,” he added, before walking away.
“Of course, Father. When have I ever disobeyed you?” Veer said in a low voice, bowing his head, the tinge of sarcasm in his words going unnoticed.