Page 70 of The Legend of Meneka
Tiny splinters of stone explode but do not harm me, turning into airy dust even as they touch me.
Nanda staggers from the dust and falls to her knees, a sob tearing from her chest. I lean down and lift her up, and I see the words in her eyes.Purehearted sage.
“Sister,” I whisper, and she places her head on my shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably, unable even to form my name. Tears flood my eyes too, not just for releasing her but becauseIhave been the one to do it. Both of us grip each other like we are in a stormy ocean, powerful and free for water is in our nature, but terrified too because of its freedom and danger.
I stroke her hair again and again, careful of the jewels she is wearing, sensing the magic in them. I want to ask her about Magadhi and Sundari, the two other apsaras besides us who were sent to seduce Kaushika. But she would not know; they were sent after her. Did Kaushika turn them into stones too? Why, then, would he not mention it when he spoke of his mistake with Nanda?
I say none of these things. I simply hold her, murmuring to her that she is safe. That I am here now, and I will let no harm come to her. Nanda quivers in my arms, sobbing quietly, and I think of the horrors she has experienced. Was she aware of herself the entire time she wastrapped there? I hope not. I hope it was simply like an enchanted sleep and this is an awakening. I know it is an awakening forme.
The trees rustle, and we hear voices raised in argument. Someone else is here. The downpour has lessened into a faint drizzle but Indra has likely sent his minions already. A wry smile grows on my lips. Nanda draws back from me, still too overwhelmed to speak, but a quiet resolve buds in her eyes. She dashes her tears from her face and nods to me once, magic already curling around her fingertips. She is an apsara, a soldier. She knows what we must do in the face of any kind of danger, whether sent from the lord or otherwise. She was abandoned by those who should have protected her. Just like I was. We are ready.
We exchange one final glance, magic glinting over our bodies.
Silently, we approach the sounds.
CHAPTER 26
Istop when I see shapes clustered in the clearing where I sat with Shiva. Nanda and I are hidden from view, still behind the trees. I hesitate as voices murmur and rise.
At first, I cannot see who is talking. The sheer magic of the clearing overwhelms me.
It is startling in its intensity. Vivid colors smash into me, blurring everything into a swirling mass of many-hued waves, battling one another. I have to close my eyes so the force of it mutes.
My other senses flare as soon as my eyes shut. Different rhythms ebb and rise in my ears, like the same note being repeated in several different octaves. Scents share the same base but manifest as different aromas. Mortal or immortal, all magic is really the same, part of the same universal song. These are auras I’m sensing, crystal clear for the first time, after my own conversation with myself.
Goose bumps erupt on my skin. Never before have auras revealed themselves to me in this fashion, as though I can see their connection to all of the universes and realms. Vaguely I question what auras really are. I have no true understanding of them, but Kaushika would know.
I try not to think of him. I breathe in slowly, trying to capture the freedom and power of my dance. Then I approach, careful not to make a sound. Nanda follows me silently, her footfalls even more practiced in subterfuge than my own.
The closer we get, the more I can distinguish each flavor of magic. This one feels like a long-held breath. This one crackles like fire overwet earth. Some are fleeting, too fluid to catch. Others flicker, in a whiff of perfume. All of them are familiar. Friends or foes?
Another few steps, and the voices become clearer.
“—has to be here,” a man murmurs.
Anirudh, I think, as I glimpse him through the trees. His aura burns silver-bright, his fast fingers creating runes in the air. The rune of confusion, of fear, of cowardliness, of defeat. He is muttering what can only be mantras under his breath. The chants are deeply powerful; his aura whiplashes like mercury, trying to keep up with his magic. He is calling the raw and potent power of the celestials themselves, of devas like Surya, Vayu, and even Indra in their most natural forms. He is preparing to attack and weaken an enemy. AmIthat enemy?
My other mortal friends array behind him, but they don’t move. Parasara, Eka, even Romasha—
My breath catches. Kalyani is among them. Her round face looks wan, and though she needs to be supported by Eka, her expression is resolute and mutinous. A sharp grief burrows within me, seeking my shame. She must hate me. I have lied to all of them, but most of all to her. With a pang I realize that Kaushika is not with this group. If he sent them here to destroy me, then he could not have picked a stronger team. My friends from the hermitage are formidable in their own right.
I am wondering whether I should reveal myself at all when shadows and foliage rustle ahead of the mortals. They turn abruptly, raising their hands to unleash their magic.
Rambha emerges, all alone, and leans casually on a tree.
The effect is immediate.
My mortal friends blink, and all their gazes move to her.
She is lovelier and more deadly than I’ve ever seen. Her kohllined eyes are flecked with gold. Her hair is tied in an intricate braid that falls well below her waist, night jasmines threaded through it,intoxicating. The dark green sari wrapped around her is deceptively simple, with gold and diamond embroidery so subtle it is as though she is wearing the stars themselves. It tightens around her waist and chest as she moves. The gold dusting of her skin sparkles from the jewels woven into her clothes. She wears no ornaments, not even a nose pin, but Amaravati’s power shines from her clothes. This isn’t apsara raiment. This is battle armor. The blouse she wears is sheer enough that she might as well not be wearing anything at all. It hugs her breasts, an illusion in itself, the same color as her skin, shimmering.
Nanda stirs next to me, recognizing her danger too, and I quieten her with a touch. I watch as Anirudh’s eyes grow wide. He blinks and shakes his head as though to clear it. Romasha’s mouth falls open. Rambha smiles, radiant, and her wrists move like a melody, fingers lightly tapping the air.
Her eyes are cold. Calculating. Watchful. A shiver climbs my spine as it hits me how lethal she really is. I’m not sure how I can tell—perhaps it is the clarity I have gained from Shiva—but I know this is the real Rambha, not Indra in disguise again.
“No one needs to get hurt,” she says, soft and seductive. Lazily, her wrists curl vapor into the air. It takes the form of a doe. “Just tell me where she is and what he has done with her. I sensed a surge of power. I know she is here.”
“She,” Anirudh says, blinking, “was betrayed by Indra. Are you here to finally kill her?”
