Page 11 of The Legend of Meneka
“Changed your mind already?” he calls out, his sneer carrying in the darkness.
The thrill of the hunt rises within me, heating my blood. Twigs snap under my feet as I follow.
CHAPTER 5
For a while we march silently through the forest. The only sound is the crunch of leaves under our feet and the skittering of night creatures. Moonlight streams through the gaps in the foliage, and the quiet of the forest grows tenfold with Kaushika by my side.
His scent threads through me, sweeping over my skin, curling through my hair, settling at the base of my throat. It beckons me closer, and I glance at him, the angles of his face hidden in shadow, the graceful manner in which he moves. It is clear that though he now refers to himself as a sage, he has forgotten none of his warrior upbringing. I wonder how much of a sage he truly is. He has the power to be one, certainly—it is evident from his aura. Yet sages seek the ultimate truth of enlightenment, the knowledge of the universe. They undertake arduous meditation and mold the same form of prana magic that Indra himself does. It is why Indra seeks to parley with them before trying to thwart them. It is why Indra even bends to their counsel when it suits him.
Kaushika refused the lord’s previous attempts at conference. He laughed at the gandharva ambassadors, defeated the devotee warriors, and killed the apsara dancers. Heaven does not know what his true intent is, but his actions have been nothing but degrading and aggressive. With every move, he has only shown that he despises Indra. Why? What does he seek?
In that lies the answer to his seduction, so I clear my throat andbegin my work. “Why would you ward the forest in such a terrifying way?” I ask.
“For protection,” he says shortly.
“From whom?”
Kaushika’s jaw moves, and his stride grows longer. I have to hurry to keep up with his tall frame. Leaves crush under us, and he doesn’t reply for a long time. I count five heartbeats and am about to repeat myself when he sighs.
“You might as well know,” he relents. “The hermitage is a dangerous place. We practice many kinds of magic there, and our very strength poses a threat to outsiders. The forest is enchanted with a warding of intent. If anyone arrives here to hurt me or my people—” He looks down his aquiline nose at me and his lips part in a dangerous sneer. “I know of it immediately.”
My shock must show on my face, for he grins a tight, sharp smile.
This is what must have given away my apsara sisters. Sundari and Magadhi and Nanda were gifted beyond compare with their illusions. They must have come to the forest, ready to spin their magic, armed with all of heaven’s shining jewels. But the warding of intent betrayed them. The warding clearly works in two ways—one to inform Kaushika of ill-intentioned intruders, and the other to keep the intruders occupied until he arrives.
I am inexperienced, which is why I reacted with panic. But my sisters would not have been fazed. They would have created illusions of defense against the wild, conjured creatures. Kaushika must have recognized them as Indra’s agents at once. He probably executed them before they could charm him. Did they even get as far as I have?
A sick feeling spreads through my chest. I recall the flash of hate I saw on his face when he encountered me. Sundari used to wear flowers in her hair. Magadhi’s smile made even my knees weak. Nanda could sing to rival a gandharva. Dead, all of them dead. Throughdesperate hate and overwhelming magic—and trickery. Because of this man.
I realize that Kaushika is still watching me, reading the horror on my face. I swallow and look around to account for it. “Then there really is danger here in the forest?”
“There might be,” he says. “Or it could be the obvious answer.Youare the danger.”
My fingertips tingle. It occurs to me that the warding was only triggered when I created the illusion to hide my jewels. I might not have fooled him about my identity at all.
“I don’t mean you any harm,” I say quietly.
His answering smile is cold. “We will see, won’t we?”
We march alongside each other in silence. Every now and then, Kaushika throws me an inscrutable look, perhaps anticipating more questions, but even though I know I must make use of my time with him, I dare not utter a word, unsure of what I will give away unknowingly. The sense of peril closes around me, shadows that bounce in the darkness, my own tether to Amaravati too thin to give me any confidence.
Before long, we are at the edge of the forest and lights glimmer through the trees. The path we’re on widens, smeared footsteps indicating that it is well traveled. Raw, unkempt bushes give way to a flower-lined trail, roses and hibiscus and marigolds in a muted profusion of colors, their petals subdued in the dim light but no less beautiful. I follow Kaushika as he strides into a clearing with nearly a hundred huts.
Though the hour is late, voices carry to us. I hear academic discussions of mantras and the Vedas, ethics and dharma. Chants echo around the hermitage, most of them too quiet to make any sense. I recognize only one, an ancient sound that shakes me. It is a mantra calling on Shiva for wisdom to destroy maya, the illusionthat conceals the nature of reality itself. A thrill of fear winds up my spine, locking the muscles of my shoulders.
It is not unusual to hear such chants within a hermitage. Sages, by their very nature, seek to peel through the layers of deception of the body and mind.
Yet with that chant, I know that I have fully entered the wolves’ lair. As a mistress of illusions, an apsara, I am the epitome of everything the sages want to destroy. The central courtyard shrinks in my eyes, its dangerous mortal magic pervasive. Kaushika is not the only threat here. All of these people would destroy me if they learned my true identity. I say nothing, following him as we wind our way past the huts to a darkened, straw-covered shed.
We enter a long, narrow corridor with bare walls. Doors lie ajar, leading into empty rooms. Only one door is closed, behind which presumably another student is asleep. Kaushika deposits me into a room that is unadorned except for some straw on the floor. It is so small I can barely walk ten paces before I must turn. A curtainless window looks out into the main courtyard, and shafts of moonlight lie dully on the floor. There is no bedding, no ornamentation, no candle nor food, not even a jug of water. I think of the manses in Amaravati, the ever-present golden dust, the hymns that resonate through heaven. Mudras nearly form at my fingertips, tempting me to erase this barrenness with my illusions. My eyes rise to Kaushika’s. I cannot hide the despair in them.
His lips curve into a thin smile. “We’ll see tomorrow how well you will fit in. Ensure you arrive at the courtyard, where your teacher will meet you.”
I blink. “You won’t train me yourself?”
“Last here long enough, and we will see.”
He turns away to leave, but annoyance sparks in me. “You will be surprised with what I can do.”
