Page 77 of The Legend of Meneka
And then we are in front of Lord Indra himself, and I blink, my throat closing. Gone is the debauched lord of the throne room and bed sport. The Indra who watches me is all warrior, his armor dazzling enough to be a weapon in itself. His dhoti flaps in the wind, swirlingwith magic. His eyes are shards of crystal. The lightning-bolt crown on his head is interspersed with a wreath of bael leaves, seeking Shiva’s strength for himself, and his magnificent vajra shines in one hand, blinding me, searing me with its heat and anger. He is surrounded by devas, each of them incandescent. Yet he is the most ominous, and I remember he has been king of heaven through a thousand mutinies, a hundred betrayals, longer than a million years.
My words curdle in my stomach.
I tighten my grip on my courage, praying to Shiva for protection.
“My lord,” I say, and I am proud that my voice does not shake. “I would ask you for a blessing.”
INDRA DOESN’T EVEN LOOK AT ME.
His eyes are only for Rambha, burning with outrage and hurt.
“Rambha,” he intones, voice like the rumble of thunder. “You are here? I looked for you.”
Rambha floats forward, palms joined, eyes downcast. “My lord, please do not be angry. I beg of you.”
Images flash in my head, of Indra pacing his garden, bereft, seeking Rambha. Of visiting the apsaras’ grove, calling out for her. Of looking into his own heart and finding her here in the forest, with me. I am so close to the lord, and his own mind is churning with so much turmoil, that his memories spill into me, showing me what occurred since Rambha left Amaravati to find me. She offered me her love; a free agent, she said. Somehow, I do not think Indra would have been pleased had I accepted her.
His next words tell me I’m right. “You would betray me? For this … thischild?”
“Lord, this is a misunderstanding,” Rambha says hurriedly. “Please—”
“She did not betray you,” I say at the same time. “Neither did I—”
Thunder cracks, drowning out both our voices. Indra’s face darkens, either at my insolence to speak to him or at Rambha’s objection. The clouds kept at bay thus far by Surya’s radiance break through the sky.
Instantly, we are drenched, devas and mortals alike, as a terrible thunderstorm pours over us all. Rambha cries out and covers her face. I mutter a swift mantra, drawing a secret rune to keep myself dry. None of the devas are truly affected either. Agni and Surya still glitter. Samudra, lord of the oceans, looks bored.
Yet Indra’s anger is an act of aggression. I glance behind me, and Kaushika’s army raises its many royal banners. With a start, I recognize the anvil of Queen Tara’s country. Magic burns there, seconds away from being unleashed.
I close my eyes.
Vayu, I beg.Hear my call. Help me now, deva. Help them hear me.
I risk looking at the lord of wind. He is staring at me, his head cocked, amused. Vayu loves mischief and chaos. I have intrigued him.
He smiles, and a depth builds in my throat. The power sings in me, and I float a little higher. “Hear me, devas and sages. Hear me, mortals and immortals. Hear me, all of you who have assembled here for blood.”
With the power of Vayu coursing through me, my voice rises even above Indra’s thunderstorm, echoing all over the landscape. Indra throws Vayu an irritated look, but Vayu merely smiles again and shrugs, as though to say,She prayed to me. What would you have me do?
“Sages and devas, apsaras and gandharvas, scholars and kings and queens, listen to me. This is not your battle. Peace can be achieved if we only sit down to parley.”
In the forest, Anirudh, Kalyani, and the others spin runes ofconcord, unleashing them into the air. The magic glimmers, aided by the power of Amaravati, strengthened by Nanda’s illusions and amulets. My friends are aiding my desire for peace with their own magic, releasing strains of accord and wellness to amplify my words. Gratitude burgeons in me for their quick thinking.
“Send your ambassadors and speak with each other,” I beseech. My heart races, thinking of what I will say if that occurs. Both the lord and Kaushika are too set in their pride to relent to the other. I will have to negotiate between them. Am I capable of that? “Lay down your astras,” I continue. “Come with the peace of Shiva, and—”
Something whizzes past my ear. An arrow soaked in mortal magic. My eyes widen. It is only because of Vayu’s power running through me that I have not been hurt.
But the arrow was not aimed for me.
It finds its mark.
Rambha gasps, and I turn back to the devas to see Indra holding the arrow in his hand. It vibrates there, inches from his skin, thirsty for his golden blood. Only his deva power has allowed him to stop it, soaked as it is with magic.
Terror overtakes me as Indra’s eyes glint. A thin smile twists his mouth.
He burns the arrow with a thought, and thunderROARS, drowning every other sound. His lips move, and I recognize his words amidst the snarls of lightning. My heart thuds painfully, about to break through my chest.
A conch rings, high and clear.
