Chapter 21 part B

Changing winds

It was the same scene, the same gates of Shamashikara, the same windy steps that ended in the stone path paved for wagons, the same Mohan walking by her side. But then; it was not the same. The time had passed, there was Megha, waiting for her at the entrance to the wagon, his hair and the lapels of the wagon roof flapping in the wind. Even she was not the same person anymore, not the naive, half human chased by the warrior elves, back and forth between the thin borders that separated the elven lands from the human world. The long skirts swept behind her, the white of Nagas trimmed with the maroon of Anjanis. Her black hair twisted behind her head, then falling in curls down her shoulders, softly brushing against her elbows. She had her arm linked with Mohan, who was leading her towards the wagons. They both glided, like true elven noble, speaking in hushed voices as they went.

"Avantika wishes you fair luck," Mohan said slowly.

"Means, she is still torn between accepting our proposal and upholding her pride." She replied casually. Mohan's lips twitched into a ghost of his usual grin.

"You're getting good at this, faster than I had expected-"

"I don't have a choice," she cut in. "I was thrust into this political struggle as a kid, it's time I make some moves myself."

They stopped walking, Mohan's gaze boring into hers. In moments like those he looked older than the mask of youth he wore on his features, his gaze was ancient, weary and wise. There was a pensive silence, before he spoke again.

"You always had a choice," his words were finite. "But I knew in the end you'll choose him. Just like I knew Arya would never return, Aruna would never leave even if all that had been promised were taken back, just like I know Annapurna would continue to chase a mirage, Suvanna would always thrive for her father's love - I had known we would stand here, saying our farewells."

"You told me once, you taught the Vajra Prince," she begun, a little hesitantly. "What exactly did you teach him Mohan?"

"To survive," his answer was short.

"Is that the same thing you're teaching me? Does survival always comes at a price?"

"Everything comes at a price." He answered with a little bow. "That is the fundamental lesson of it all. Battles you should be wary of are waged right here, behind these walls, right here -" he tapped her temple. "- In your mind, those battles are fought with secrets, weaknesses, what you know of the other. Every Astra has a time to be unleashed, similarly a secret should be used when it is of value. Ten years ago, had Pratula known you are Arya's daughter, he would not have blinked twice before striking you dead, but the times have changed, his priorities have changed. The secret that could have gotten you killed a decade ago, can help you survive in the Anjani court now," he smirked involuntarily. "Perhaps not just in the Anjani court, in the Vajra Mandapa as well. The prince was wise, to play that Lady of Anjanis card to the Bhavas. Or else I wouldn't have gotten this idea."

"Sometimes I wonder, which one of you learn from the other?"

"He learned from me a long time ago," Mohan chuckled in spite of himself. "Now - I must confess the times have changed. His ways are more updated than mine, more cruel than mine."

"You don't like him, do you?"

"You should not either," he clapped her shoulder. "But I know, there is something about him, that lures people in. You can held but admire him, even at his worst." His eyes were understanding, as they reached the foot of the stairs. "He will be a great king some day, if we make through this storm unscathed."

"Your loyalties have changed," her voice was a mere whisper.

"Not yet," Mohan smiled down at her, taking her hands in his, a gesture of farewell among the Naga folks. "But someone said they might and I sense the change in the winds." He looked beyond her shoulder and caught Megha's eye. A look passed between them. "The lady is your responsibility."

"I know," Megha said in his deep yet dismissive voice. "To avert the war brewing between the tribes, lady Annapurna's son must not be harmed. To hope for peace at the end, the prince of Vajra must survive in the process."

"I don't give two hoots to either of them," Mohan bent down to whisper. Swara's lips twitched in spite of the situation. "But there are promises I've made, and which I plan to keep," his tone grew serious. "I need to take you to the safe end and it cannot be done, if either of them dies in between."

He helped her into the wagon, his fingers slowly sliding off her hold. Mohan held her gaze, a reassuring smile twinkling his eyes.

"Kalyaani is your elven name, the name your mother gave you. Now I see what she meant." His words were clear over the clatter of the moving wheels. "Perhaps you're supposed to bring the greater good, farewell Swara, Lady of Anjanis."

**

He had tasted the hazy intoxication before. Those blur depths where logic dims away along with senses and time slips from the gaps between his fingers - just like sand did in the present. Lakshya reeled from the last punch that had sent him face first into the dust. As he got to his feet his eyes collided with the icy blue one watching him from the high raised stands, her magenta robes muted against the morning sun, Suvanna looked bored. She noted the fleeting moment in which she had his attention and her lips tugged to a haughty half smile. He was doing well, at the moment.

Suvanna felt something soaring inside her, a flicker of power, a taste of intoxication. She was waiting for the moment when Aithne awoke. The hand to hand combat was over, leaving both duelers with bruised bodies and egos. She watched Lakshya's fingers swathe around the hilt of Aithne, pulling the blade to shimmer in the amber lights. She felt Aithne unleash its poisonous roots, seeping into his mind, lulling his thoughts into a incoherent hum and guiding his arm in swift motions across the air and plunging the blade into the opponent's heart.

She felt how the taste of blood running down the blade fired Aithne's thirst and another flicker of power pulsed down her spine. The crowd erupted into cheers, but Lakshya's eyes were vacant. In the hazy hold of Aithne's power he had no recollection of his actions. Suvanna fiddled with the large ruby she wore on her finger, a faint smile gracing her lips. It was strangely amusing to watch how a weapon controlled the wielder, how the man became the weapon and the sword became the master. Power, it was a strange thing.

Her eyes caught her father, who was not interested in the duel playing out in front of them, but his eyes were fixed on the door to the high platform, he was waiting for someone. Suvanna had no time to think who it was; a different pulse of power throbbed around the arena and Aithne clashed with another blade, producing an echoing clatter.

**

Keshav held him back, his iron grip tight around Sanskar's forearm. The younger man stopped to meet the gaze of the older one, for a moment both pairs of eyes steely and determined. The crowd erupted into cheers again as Lakshya cut down another champion.

"Skip it," Keshav's voice was rough and finite. "There's something about that sword," his voice was muted against the cheers. "Look the way he move, that boy is not in his senses," he jerked his head up at the high seats, where a mildly amused Suvanna was watching. "She is a witch and she is controlling him. There are lot of things a man can fight, magic -" he shook his head. "Is not one of them."

"It's you or I," Sanskar turned around his grip secured around the hilt of his sword. "And I agree Keshav, there are lot of things you can fight and magic -" he flicked his sword through the air. "Isn't one of them."

"You've got a death wish boy," Keshav muttered under his breath and turned his back to the arena.

The moment he stepped into the sand that sucked his foot down to ankles, Aithne pulsed in recognition. The man who stood facing him was far from his brother. His eyes were empty, a look of thirst marring his features. As their eyes met, his lips tugged into a sneer and they began to circle each other.

He could feel Aithne's conflicting emotions, the sword was enticed by the prospect of tasting his blood and at the same time it feared the control he had over its power. The confusion reflected on Lakshya's moves, as he feinted and then launched to attack, their blades collided; the sound echoing through the arena, followed by an extreme silence.

Suvanna shifted in her throne - like seat, her eyes narrowed with concentration. This was not supposed to happen. A measly blade forged by the swordsmiths of emulations, could not have stopped Aithne, or matched it, strike to strike. She watched the two young men fence, back and forth, their legs drawing complicated patterns on the sand, dust rising in clouds. They moved with grace, never managing to cut the other, always blocking the other, they fought as if they danced. No master in the emulations could have trained a swordsman of that caliber.

They drew closer, the blades locked between them and gazes boring into each other. She could feel the way Aithne tried to pull away from the tangled blades, how its haughty pulse had changed into an uncomfortable throb. Something was wrong, someone was reining the untamable sword.

For a moment the taller one of the two, looked past his opponent, and his lake green eyes flashed at Suvanna. She flinched under his gaze. So the brother had come in search of the brother.

There were conchs blown and the doors were thrown open. Pratula rose to his feet, his arms extended in welcome. Suvanna tore her gaze away from the fighters and looked at the on coming party, curious to know who made her father stand up in greeting.

The white robed Nagas filled in, two lines, standing at the entrance like a flock of swans. Parting them, a long haired man in a dark grab made his way towards the king. Suvanna sucked in a breath of recognition; it was the same man she had encountered in the shadowy lands of Asanikshestra. The man knelt at Pratula's high throne, with the grace of a noble and held out his hand for someone else.

She floated in, the soft golden of her eyes encasing her entire self in a smooth glow, her white robes trimmed with Anjani red. Taking his hand, she bowed delicately to the king and Pratula smiled at her, like he had never smiled at his own daughter. He stepped down from the throne, to take her hand in his and turn to address the high ranking Anjanis watching them with a curious gaze.

"May I present you, my niece, daughter of princess Arya, Kalyaani the lady of Anjanis."

**