Chapter 38 The Ruined City of Danavas
In the end, Chandra had to accept the yaksha’s offer of shelter. It was the only thing she could’ve done. Even though she disagreed with his staunch refusal of helping Veer and his reasons behind it, she retained hope that perhaps she could learn something useful to break the curse.
She was glad to have accepted his offer, though. He took her to the part of the forest that seemed inaccessible by conventional means. And even provided her with sustenance. She thought briefly about what Veer was eating and then shuddered, thinking she was probably better off not knowing.
When the morning arrived, it was her first thought. The second thought—what was this place?
Then she got up to explore.
It still felt like she was walking in the forest, except there was some evidence of flat ground, or what was left of it.
Patches of flat stone had wisps of grass peeking at the corners.
Wherever she saw, there was evidence of vegetation overtaking the boulders, which on closer inspection, revealed themselves as fallen columns and dilapidated stone structures.
Soothing music played from an unseen lute and seemed to be coming from all directions.
“Had a nice rest, Princess?” asked Makhadeva solicitously.
Chandra nodded.
Today, he was a mass of bees hovering in the breeze, roughly in the shape of a man. He had explained earlier that he thought she would feel better seeing a humanoid creature.
Chandra didn’t understand why he was being so caring. He couldn’t speak about Veer without disgust creeping into his voice, even though it was difficult at times to ascertain, since it was unlike any human voice she had ever heard.
And yet he was never impolite to her, even though Chandra tried many ways to get him to reveal how to break Veer’s curse, making herself obnoxious on purpose, hoping he would get angry and inadvertently reveal something.
But the supernatural being had an endless patience when it came to dealing with her. It was beyond puzzling.
“Would you like a tour of this place?” he asked as the bee swarm floated through an open entryway.
She followed him, more out of curiosity than anything else. There was no way she could’ve seen this place before, and yet a weird sense of déjà vu plagued her.
Moss coated the finer details of the carved interiors, obscuring whatever stories they depicted. Creepers were draped in thick ropes, big as her wrist, like barricades across doorways. Dew hung heavy in the air, despite the midmorning.
Pale orchids, bright red flame of the forests, and the profuse deep blue of neela flowers competed with the bright colors of the butterflies that flitted about. She tensed when one of them landed on her bare arm. It had the wickedly sharp blades of a praying mantis.
“Fear not. Nothing in this forest will harm you, Princess. Nothing will want to, apart from your husband,” said the yaksha. “And this way was the solar hall…”
Makhadeva walked ahead.
Chandra stopped abruptly in the middle of climbing the broad staircase. The steps were of a height that was slightly uncomfortable to climb. It must have been built for beings at least ten feet tall.
A tarnished mirror hung on the wall, abutting the staircase. Chandra did a double take. A wan woman with untidy hair stared back at her. Herself.
But that wasn’t what caught her interest. A second ago, another face glanced out of that mirror at her.
It had been her reflection, without a doubt.
The same sloe eyes, straight nose, and oval face.
But in that image her skin had gone a hue so dark that it was almost a poison blue.
Two small tusks had protruded past her red lips.
A towering crown made of gold adorned her dark hair and her dress was of the richest ruby silk.
She had looked like a rakshasi! A female demon.
“Princess? Is anything the matter? You fell behind.” Makhadeva peered back at her from the top.
“No. Yes. I thought I saw something,” she said, her nose an inch from the surface of the mirror, tilting her face to see if she would see anything different.
“Oh. Careful about the mirrors around this place.” His voice echoed down to her as he continued ahead. “They’ll show you things you are better off not knowing—past lives and future selves if you’re unwary when gazing into them.”
The sun was high in the clear blue sky, not a cloud in sight, shining through gaps in the ceiling.
At the top of the staircase was a narrow balcony, with half its railing absent.
The back of the balcony was formed by a wall, sturdy looking despite the big patches where the mortar had fallen off, revealing the underlying bricks.
She caught up to the yaksha just as the last of his bees disappeared into the wall.
“Hey.” Chandra ran up to the wall and patted it. It was solid. “I can’t pass through walls, you know.” Minutes ticked past and Chandra began to think the yaksha had abandoned her, then she heard a muffled voice.
“The wall is an illusion, Princess. Try to think so and you’ll find you can move through them.”
Extremely skeptical, Chandra put her hand on it again.
To her amazement, her hand went through.
She stepped past the wall and emerged into another hall, ringed by a slightly wider balcony than before.
The ceiling of this hall was completely open to the sky but the rest of it seemed a little more preserved than the other.
Moisture had seeped into the walls, and they had giant cracks where the root of a young sapling forced the rocks to give way. The tattered remains of fabrics hung from the balconies, their once bright colors faded with time.
Like everything, it had been built on a giant scale of ten-foot creatures. A huge wall dominated one end of the hall. Faint, faded outlines of a mural were visible on the flat surface. She made out traces of a battle scene in full swing. Two mountains puffing smoke loomed in the background.
“The Battle of the Devas and Danavas,” said Makhadeva, as he came to stand beside her.
“What?”
“The mural,” he said, nodding toward the wall. “It is one of their many battles. That mountain you see is the Meru, said to be the bane of the Danava race.” He was pointing towards the volcano depicted in purple and orange.
“And the other mountain?” she asked.
“Sumeru,” he said, the bees’ buzzing made the word sound low and deep.
Chandra wanted to ask more, but another mural, adjacent to it, caught her eye.
For some reason, this one pulled at her, as if it was somehow familiar.
Like a story told during childhood, forgotten but with faint echoes of memory.
Makhadeva strode toward her as she stood gazing up at it, mouth slightly open.
A woman drawn in black ink was under a gigantic wheel occupying most of the sky, a hand raised toward it. In the distance was another dark figure of a man holding a small child. Different kinds of beasts and men were seen trying to escape from the area.
“This one details the time when one of our princesses fell for the sweet words of a knave, who was really a spy deva in disguise,” said Makhadeva.
Chandra couldn’t be sure but the yaksha seemed sad.
“The deva’s actions led to the slaughter of the royal family.
Everyone except the princess was slain.”
“How horrible. Poor princess,” said Chandra.
“Yes, indeed, but in her grief, she committed an even greater crime by activating that wheel you see, a weapon that destroyed quite a bit of the forest and its inhabitants. Even now, the grass there grows dry and brittle.”
“What happened next?” she asked, fascinated by the story.
“They both died. The princess and the deva who loved her. The goddess had cursed them to suffer through their next lives. Other danava kings occupied this once great city, rebuilt as much as they could, and ruled for a long time until they, too, felt the passage of time and the changing of foundations and moved on to other dimensions.”
Chandra viewed the mural with interest, trying to make out the details of these mythical beings.
“This way, Princess,” he called, moving away.
“You mentioned other dimensions?” asked Chandra, walking slightly faster to catch up with him.
“Hmm? Yes. There are seven other dimensions. This earthbound one is the only one where humans exist. We ruled this plane for a while, but we have moved on.”
“Why?” asked Chandra.
“Because there were too many humans questioning us about things that they didn’t need to know.”
Chandra fell silent after that, wondering if she had overstepped with her questions.
They seemed to be in some sort of pathway now; although, it was difficult to make out the details. A gigantic sculpture of an elephant draped with moss stood at the entrance, its trunk raised in greeting. Chandra pondered the size and wondered if even the animals were bigger in those times.
A stone path wove between the buildings, broken by an odd tree that was split open.
Rotten wood oozed a damp smell. An army of ants made the hollow into a temporary home, building a brick-colored anthill.
A flash of orange and blue caught her eye, and she saw a hornbill.
It alighted on a branch and surveyed her with bright interest. Chandra was unnerved to find it had human eyes.
She averted her eyes and found her gaze snagged by a pool of still water. Its surface was carpeted by a mat of dense green salvinia. She crouched at the edge and scooped up some water. It was clear and refreshingly cold. She splashed some on her face.
An otter popped its head from the green depths of the pool, its fur wet and flat. “Hello?” she said cautiously, hoping she hadn’t disturbed it.
“Hello yourself, Princess,” said the otter as it dived back again.
Chandra was so stunned; she almost lost her balance and fell into the pool.
“They talk?” She looked at Makhadeva for clarification.
“But of course. They’re not animals. They can talk.”
“What are they, then?”
“Demons.”