Chapter 37 Maayavi #2
His father would be proud, thought Ketuvahana, with a twist of his lips. He was forever asking him to curb his inclinations. But this meant someone else was going to feel his wrath before the evening ended. He smiled thinking about the maid servant he had his eye on for a while; his mood restored.
The wizard seemed to make his choice. “You’ll do nicely,” he said, speaking to the soldier who had handed him the children’s toy. “Come forward.”
The soldier tried to make a run for it. But inches from the door, he stopped suddenly and turned. Odd whimpering sounds emerged from his lips, but he still moved forward as if dragged against his will, like a marionette. Only his eyes reflected his horror.
“How did he do that? How did he stop the soldier?” wondered Ketuvahana in an aside to Sakaala.
“I think, sire, that the wizard can take over the mind of a person. I’ve heard rumors,” explained the aide.
“With a power like that, why does he need us?” Ketuvahana asked, looking at the wizard with renewed interest.
“Perhaps because there are limitations to a power like that—”
“And are you sure he isn’t controlling us?” he asked, sudden doubt assailing him.
“I believe we would know if we were being controlled. It isn’t a pleasant experience, judging by the soldier’s expression,” whispered back Sakaala.
“Interesting…” murmured Ketuvahana, deep in thought. “But aren’t we putting ourselves at risk, inviting him here? What if he takes over one of us?”
Sakaala looked pensive. “I’d thought about it, but I felt we had no choice. Our search for King Harideva’s son was going nowhere.”
Ketuvahana watched closely as the wizard compelled the soldier to obey his commands, his mind racing with possibilities. He could use an ally like him.
“It doesn’t look like this control is effortless for the wizard,” he remarked, watching the strain on the wizard’s face as sweat ran in rivulets from his temple, creating dark runnels through the pasty-white, ash-streaked face.
“It is useless to resist, soldier,” said Maayavi.
“My hold on your mind is absolute. You will do exactly what I tell you.” The staff shook in his grasp.
As they watched, purple bruises formed and spread across the wizard’s torso.
Maayavi gave no indication he felt it, though.
He continued, as if it were happening to someone else.
His skinny rib cage worked like bellows, as he wheezed his breath out.
The wizard looked like a dead man, or near death, propped up by arcane magic.
Ketuvahana’s eyes narrowed as he peered closely. He revised his earlier impression about the wizard showing no feeling.
Now, his eyes were alive with a hungry curiosity. His face may not be registering pain, but the wizard knew the other man’s suffering all right. And seemed to take delight in it, prolonging the moment when he would have to put an end to it.
As a person who enjoyed such pursuits himself, Ketuvahana recognized a kindred spirit.
“What’re you feeling, soldier? Tell me!” commanded Maayavi with a greedy intensity.
The soldier was frothing at the mouth, but his jaw opened and his tongue twisted itself as if in a hurry to obey the wizard’s command.
“I’m sorry!” he screamed. “Please let me go. I have a family.”
The wizard appeared disappointed by this answer. “I’m in no mood to hear your pleas. Try again. I need you to tell me exactly what you feel.”
Spittle ran from the corner of the soldier’s mouth, his eyes were wide open as if in a trance. His body shook with uncontrollable tremors.
“Fear. I am af-af-afraid.”
“And? What else? Tell me everything.”
“Sad. I want to se-se-see my family again.” Each sentence seemed like it was wrenched forth from the depths of his throat. It came in a furious, guttural voice as if his vocal cords took the strain of dueling minds, vying for control.
“Ah…”
Blood ran down from the soldier’s mouth as he struggled to speak.
“Angry. That…that…that I agreed to serve the new king, knowing that he is the wo-wo-worst piece of scum on earth.”
Several gasps came from the onlookers. The crown prince, Nandiketu, stood open-mouthed. Ketuvahana felt his own face twist in a grimace.
“Knowing that you’re about to die, how does that make you feel?” asked the wizard.
“Help-he-he-helpless. But…” The soldier clenched his teeth.
“But what? Speak!”
“I curse you! I curse you with my last breath.” Laughter broke forth from the soldier’s mouth as his mind seemed to splinter and go insane.
Nandiketu, still standing to one side, shook like a leaf. He turned away and went down to his knees, throwing up in a corner and then had to be taken outside.
Maayavi focused on the broken man with the mildest of disgust. “Useless filth,” he proclaimed, his eyes glistening as if he was cheated out of some perverse enjoyment. “But you’ll still fulfill your purpose. Take your sword and kill yourself.”
The soldier unsheathed his sword and placed it under his throat, spraying the floor with his blood. His rabid laugh cut off abruptly as blood bubbled from his cut. He fell to the floor, dead.
Absolute silence descended, broken only by the crackle of fire as it consumed the wood and then by the sizzle that came when the dead soldier’s blood pooled, touched, and was absorbed into the power lines of the yantra.
From the satchel on the floor, the wizard brought forth his ceremonial bone knife—a long femur sharpened to a wicked edge and inscribed with spells. He went to work on the body, cracking open his ribs and then dislocating the skull from the spine until he was able to free it entirely.
Bits of gore and blood flecked the air. Even Sakaala turned away from the spectacle. A few others ran out. Only Ketuvahana and his most loyal soldiers remained behind to witness the horrific dismembering.
It took a long time, but the wizard finally lifted the spinal column from the mutilated remains, still whole and intact. He plunged the column onto the soldier’s spear and tied it more securely with the dead man’s own blood-soaked hair.
He then inserted it into the center of the pyre, taking care to see that the flames didn’t scorch the spine. It hung there, over the sacrificial fire like a grotesque warning.
The wizard stepped out from the safe gap in the yantra. People gave him a wide berth as he walked away from the pattern and on to safe ground.
Once he was out, he said the final words of the mantra.
“Anvesham cha nibandhanam.”
His voice rang across the cavernous, high-ceilinged hall.
The gap in the pattern sealed itself and the spine at the center of the fire bucked into life. The bones made a weird clattering noise as they writhed and strained against the binds.
A thin, hair-raising screech came from all sides. Shadows sprang into life from the dark corners, rising and climbing to the higher levels. More screams came from the prisoners on the upper floors as the spell consumed their lives.
The pattern glowed bright white again, briefly becoming three-dimensional, flickering, as if struggling to contain the spell.
Several moments passed. The screams died. Deathly silence fell except for the crackle of fire and the occasional hiss as the blood from the spine dripped into the flames.
“It is done.” Maayavi spoke to Ketuvahana, the only member of the royal family who was brave enough, or perhaps vicious enough, to withstand the terrible sights of the day.
“On behalf of my brother, thank you.” Ketuvahana’s voice held a new respect for the powerful wizard that was lacking earlier.
“For your own protection, do not disturb the yantra,” said Maayavi. The earlier animation in his face was gone completely like it had never existed. “It’s a power source that sustains the spell. The spell itself is corrosive enough to eat anything, but the yantra keeps it in check.”
“Understood.”
“Now for the matter of my payment…”
“We already gave you a coterie of soldiers for your use,” said Ketuvahana. “They didn’t even make it alive after your ill-fated attempt to steal the idol from the temple city.”
“The incident at the temple city was…unfortunate. It’ll not happen again.”
“Be that as it may, we would like to see some results before we give you anything else.”
The wizard gave Ketuvahana an uncomfortably long look. “All right,” he said. “You’ll see the results for this ritual on the seventh day. And I’ll stay until Prince Aditya is captured by my spell.”
Ketuvahana didn’t like that they needed to play host to the wizard but couldn’t come up with an alternative. He watched as the wizard left the place, promising to come back the next evening.
“Are you just going to let him go?” Nandiketu said as he returned. He still appeared sickly from witnessing such brutality. It didn’t escape Ketuvahana’s notice that he came back only when he was sure the wizard was taking his leave.
“You are welcome to go stop him, brother,” answered Ketuvahana, with a sneer. Silence greeted his offer.
The rain that had been threatening finally broke. The sky wept in torrents; only the expected relief that usually followed an outburst was nowhere to be found.