Chapter 5 An Impromptu Rescue
On a stormy night, with the wind howling across the hilly nooks and deep gullies, under the sparse cover of the sal and mahua trees and scattered boulders, a group of soldiers lay in wait.
The place was called the Borderlands, a narrow but long strip of land hugging the banks of the River Tripti, as it cut its way across the rocky tableland, forming a natural border between the three kingdoms of Thianvelli, Amaravathi, and Hoysyala.
The Borderlands was a place of lawlessness, of roaming bandit troops, solitary thieves, and murderers.
Criminals flocked to this place. Because at the edge of any kingdom, they were the farthest from the long arm of law, and while they could hop across the borders with impunity, the military wasn’t allowed to move as freely.
And because the merchants and the refugees that frequented this place offered rich pickings.
An Amaravathi commander watched, as a man ran toward the narrow rope bridge strung across the two banks of the River Tripti as it flowed into the deep gorge that separated the two kingdoms of Amaravathi and Thianvelli.
A parcel of riders chased the man, the flame of their torches dancing in the stormy wind. The sound of hoofbeats filled the air and as they came closer, the random bursts of lightning illuminated their distinct armor.
“That man’s not Girish,” said one of her men. In the dark, their group had all their attention focused on the chase unfolding before their eyes.
Through a gap in the rocks, which formed their hideout, the commander observed silently as an arrow struck the man, making him stumble to his knees. He was halfway across the rope bridge and clutched at the wildly swinging bridge with one hand.
“No, he isn’t. And those are the royal guards of Thianvelli.
Did you notice their insignia —the lotus bud entwined by the serpent,” she said, pitching her voice low like that of a man, more out of habit than a continued need to disguise the fact that she was a woman.
She was pretty sure that her men already guessed it, even if they didn’t suspect her true identity. Or call it to her face.
Guruji’s hand-picked men were loyal and followed orders implicitly.
Girish, her personal guard, was the only one who knew.
But he was on the other side of the ravine, in Thianvelli, doing what was supposed to have been her task.
Guruji, the prime minister of Amaravathi and her mentor, had stated clearly that she wasn’t to step foot there. Even in disguise.
“He must be an important criminal, pursued almost to the edge of Thianvelli,” said another man, hiding a yawn behind his hand.
Everyone was tired. They were at the end of their days-long mission to secure an audience with the deposed queen of Thianvelli.
The last few nights were spent on keeping a sleepless vigil for Girish’s return, and the lack of rest and anxiety was taking a toll on everyone.
They didn’t need distractions of this nature.
She leaned forward with interest. Strange. Despite what had to be a poisoned arrow in his back—Thianvelli’s arrows were always poisoned—the man showed no signs of slowing and continued his attempts to cross the bridge.
The Thianvellian guards had reached the edge of the rope bridge and dismounted. Even at this distance, she sensed their hesitation in stepping on Amaravathi’s land. The man stopped and stood facing his enemies, as if daring them to come near. A dull red glow had enveloped his free arm.
Time stood still as nature itself seemed to pause its fury, as if waiting for something to happen. Then, lightning split the sky, temporarily blinding everyone. In the following peal of thunder, the red light disappeared, and she wondered if she had imagined the whole thing.
She made her decision in an instant and gave instructions to her men. Drawing her own bow and arrow from her shoulder holster, she nocked a trio of arrows into her bow, taking aim at the bridge.
The wind was fierce gale now, but she knew her weighted arrows wouldn’t be blown off course.
Closing her eyes briefly, she concentrated on her surroundings.
The wind, the rain, the wild neighing of the horses receded from her consciousness.
She opened her eyes, and her target came into focus, filling her vision.
The ropes anchoring the bridge on Thianvelli’s side snapped with a twang and the bridge fell, carrying the man down with it.
Across the bank, the Thianvellian guards halted in surprise as they registered her presence. But they wasted no time finding shelter in a cluster of mahua trees on their side and answered her offensive with more arrows aimed at her hiding place.
Their skirmish lasted a short while until the skies opened to a torrential downpour. The inclement weather made it impossible to sustain their fight and the other party seemed to come to the same realization as they retreated, calling it quits for the day.
* * *
“I’m glad you were able to make it across, Girish, despite the damaged bridge.”
“The scout you sent to guide me told me what happened, Commander. We had no trouble finding the underwater rope to help us cross the river. But did we have to rescue this vagabond?”
Veer woke to soft voices conversing amid the background of a thunderstorm.
He opened his eyes to slits but pretended to be unconscious.
He was in better shape than expected, he thought, testing his limbs without being obvious.
The poisoned arrow had only caused a shallow wound.
He could feel a cooling poultice applied on his back that was already leaching the poison.
He was grateful for that. Although he had his sister’s healing stone still in his possession, it only accelerated the healing of physical injuries. Poisoned or infected wounds needed greater expertise.
Veer had thought he was done for when the bridge suddenly snapped, and he plunged into the turbulent waters of the river. But he was rescued only minutes later and carried up to a hiding place on the banks of Amaravathi.
“Were you able to get my message across to the Thianvelli queen? Did she accept our offer of asylum?” asked the high voice, bringing Veer’s attention to the commander again. He opened his eyes a little wider to see.
To his amazement, he found the commander to be young, probably not past his teen years.
Girish, the giant of a man the commander was conversing with, shook his head and said, “I delivered the message all right. But it’s all to naught. Declined our help. Says she will not abandon the throne to the wolves. Her words.”
Veer realized they were talking about Gauri Devi, the previous queen of Thianvelli.
Thianvelli and Amaravathi were sister kingdoms, their royal families were relatives, descended from a common ancestor until they had decided to branch out.
It had been Amaravathi’s closest ally until the recent death of Thianvelli’s king, and its subsequent fall into the hands of a corrupt official.
Veer heard the commander give a disappointed sigh. “I wish we had offered help sooner. Now it’s too late.”
“The queen is no fool. She knows this offer came from Guruji and not the triumvirate,” said Girish.
The political situation in the south was certainly far from stable, thought Veer.
Not only was Thianvelli in a political crisis, he also had heard faint rumors that Amaravathi’s king was sick.
If Guruji, the wily ex–prime minister of Amaravathi, had come out of retirement and was running things, there was a distinct possibility that the rumor was true.
Good. If King Chandraketu of Amaravathi was sick, he wouldn’t throw roadblocks as he was wont to do, from Veer’s previous experience with him.
Veer suddenly realized the conversation had ended abruptly. His eyes moved to the commander again.
The commander raised his brows at him. “How long are you going to pretend to be asleep, stranger?”
Veer faked a coughing fit to forestall answering the question. The commander waved a hand, and Veer was given a bowl of water. He sat up gingerly and drank greedily, observing the surroundings from the corner of his eye.
The commander had a warm brown skin indigenous to the population here and his eyes were sloe-shaped and thickly lashed.
A scarf covered the lower part of his face, made of the same dark cloth as his turban, obscuring his features, so Veer couldn’t be sure, but even his build appeared to be slight compared to the brawny men he was commanding.
“Who are you? What business did you have in Thianvelli that caused you to be chased by the royal guards?” asked Girish.
Veer certainly wasn’t going to tell them the real reason was to look for Harideva’s son. Not when these people were searching for the same.
Sage Aswi had suggested he go to Amaravathi, but Veer wanted to see if he could get someone from Thianvelli to open the lotus key. It made sense since their royal families were related, and Veer would have much preferred dealing with them than Amaravathi.
It came to nothing, though. His search for Gauri Devi, Harideva’s widow, and her son had failed, but it attracted the notice of Thianvelli’s guards, who had then chased him all the way to Amaravathi’s border. This Girish appeared to have fared better than him. At least he got to meet the queen.
Veer thanked the heavens he had the foresight to disguise himself. Not that anyone in Amaravathi would recognize him. Even seven years ago, the way he looked was a subject of much embellishment, so people rarely identified him.
He cleared his throat and adopted a meek tone. “I am but an ordinary blacksmith. I don’t know why the royal guards were chasing me.”
“You don’t?” asked the commander with clear doubt in his voice.
“Yes, I was on my way to find work in Amaravathi when they gave me chase. Thank you for rescuing me. Er, I’ll be on my way as soon as the rain ends.”