Bonds mend and broken

Canada, 31st October 2005

The winter was losing its hold on the urban skies. It had turned a dull sort of white, with straps of rather cold sunlight playing across its surface. The wind, muffling the sounds of the engines complaining in the long queue of traffic below, caressed the branches of a random tree, left in the roadside. People, in their cars, trapped within the traffic itself could not; would not; spare a glance to the children's playground that formed the background for their confinement. It was already alive with toddling feet and chortling smiles, a crackling of a swing as a child swung faster yet, or the "swish" of the slides as another went whooping down, enwrapped them in a bubble of buzzing activities.

There was a man, in the opposite side of the bustling road, distanced by the playground not only from the traffic that stayed unmoving between them but also from the aura he seemed to emit. The playground was, even in the winter; warm with juvenile giggles, the man on the opposite end, squinting focused at the scene before him was cold and silent.

He seemed to be in his late twenties, with sharp black eyes and a mop of jet black hair. He was a lean built man, a hard jaw line tracing the edge of his rather tanned face. His ears were punctured a shimmer of stud hung there, a tattoo with a complex pattern of lines chasing each other ran down his neck, starting from his jaw, beginnings of a similar one was visible from the ham of his sleeve running alone his forearm. The man was dressed in a Gothic taste, his clothes a shade of darkest black and his boots high. There was still that cold look in his squinted black eyes; they were empty of any other emotion than the concentration reflected in there as he continued to watch, in mild interest.

What captured his vision, on the other side of the road, in the play ground, was a woman. Approximately of a parallel age to the man in dark outfit, she sat in a bench at the far end of the park, watching the children closest to her play a very intense ball game.

Even from a far, the woman had an Asian origin to her look. Her skin tanned pleasantly and her eyes and hair a darker tone of color. She wore a casual attire befitting the winter surrounding her and her eyes remained fixed on the children, her lips curled in to a pleasant smile.

The ball, the children had been playing with, bounced over the head of the boy hoping to catch it and rolled to the fenced side of the playground, where the park and the street were separated from steel net. A girl, trotted after it, her cheeks rosy from all the excitement and her eyes following the ball. It stopped at the net, where the girl bent down to pick it up. As she did so, the man on the opposite end, moved a deliberate step forward, his eyes still fixed upon the girl, who looked up, as if sensing his eyes upon her. In a one fleeting moment their eyes met, one dark and cold pair on another dark and warm set of eyes. The woman watching from the bench stood up, as if electrified. It took her only a moment to reach the girl still staring at the man and grip her arm. Bending down, she muttered something in the girl's ear and dragged her along, without a backward glance at the man staring at them still.

As they reached her playmates, the girl returned the ball, her hand still securely gripped by the woman, waved at her friends and left, jogging to keep up with the speed of her companion. As they reached the point of walking out of the man's vision, the girl looked back, her dark eyes slightly curious and saw that the man was there no more.

*

Vajrateerta, 31st October 2005

'Clunk! Clunk! '

A flash of silver brushed past his vision. Donning robes of silence and nothingness, his opponent had vanished. Taking a lung full of frosty air and tightening his grip around the hilt of his sward, the crowned prince of Vajras looked around. His ears picked up the rustling breeze made around him, the twisting twigs underneath his feet as he moved. The wind had turned colder yet, making the beads of sweat running from his temples down his cheeks along his jaw line, feel like ice against his skin. His breathing was catching up; his ears were straining against the silence. Somewhere here, sometime from now, his opponent would appear.

Around him was nothing but giant tree trunks, aged centuries, wide in diameter, hard and brownish, their roots made the ground beneath his feet uneven, rising like figures asleep on the cold ground, covered in layers upon layers of dead leaves; over his head was their canopy, each tree reaching out for the other, their branches entwined as if embracing each other, veiling the ground from the sun above. It was a pity, that they had seldom leaves left for the task, looking up, all the prince could see was a replica of an enormous spider web, made of bare branches.   He could see patches of dull gray sky above, if he spared a glance letting his defenses rest for a moment.

Crouched on a branch not far above his head, another figure watched the prince as he circled his spot. Letting him move ahead another step, the figure stood straight, its feet, balanced on the mossy branch, waiting for the target to stand right below it. The prince, oblivious to the predator analyzing him from above, moved further forward, finally coming to a standstill right below, his opponent, his eyes still searching the landscape for any sign of danger.

Getting a bumpy start from the branch underneath its feet for the spring, the figure pounced, its blade slashing through the air, cutting through the silence that hung around them for so long. The prince reacted with lightening speed; his blade collided with the opponent's with another 'Clank!' And the opponent finally landed on their feet.

The prince was thrown back, by the sheer force used by the opponent and was rewarded with a chuckle as the opponent; eyes gleaming in mock, lowered their hood. A bony faced, teenage girl, with sleek dark hair trimmed to her shoulders owned that chuckle. Her eyes, was an odd shade of darkest, blackish blue, sparkling as she laughed.

She let the prince increase the distance between them, her eyes carefully following his steps and lunged, her swift attack missed the target, and her blade went over the other's, slashing the air as it did so. Taking the moment the prince again locked their swords, the blades colliding with angry noises and reducing the distance between them.

The girl tried to deflect the blade offending her, moving backwards as she struggled for a better hold and as the blades un-entangled themselves she stumbled a foot backwards, before finding her balance once more.

'Improved,' she muttered.

The prince crooked an eyebrow.

'Brilliant you mean?'

'Nah,' she shook her head, feinting as she did so. They engaged once more in a phase of continuous attack and defense, each provoked in to their most furious deliveries, making gashes across each other's skins.

Her blade cut across his shoulder and the prince winced, the moment his eyes cracked open once more, she was gone.

'Listen, listen hard.' He muttered to himself.

It happened in a swift moment. She pounced on him, intending to take a shot at his unsuspecting back and he turned in a blinking moment, his blade bared, plunging its cold length in to her warm abdomen, puncturing a hole through her skin.

She sank, her face paled and contorted, her both hands grasped around the blade firmly planted in to her body. Her eyes were slightly glossy with painful tears.

'Kavi!' His voice was hoarse as he knelt with shock, his arms wrapping themselves around her unintentionally.

'Now that...' the girl said in a throaty tone, gulping her words. Could be tagged close to 'brilliant.'

'Rubbish!' He brushed hair off her forehead and his palm lingered on her skin, his eyes, brownish hazel until a moment ago, dazzled silver for a moment as with his other hand he pulled the sword out. The bleeding had stopped and underneath the spot where the blade had cut through her garment, the skin was undamaged, there was nothing, not even a scar that suggested the girl was run through by a blade no more than a moment ago.

Pushing off his arms, she sat up, massaging her abdomen as she did so.

'That was some impressive reflex Yuvraj,' she said then, shooting an admiring glance at the prince. 'The prolonged stay away from home hadn't affected your skills much.'

'Kavita, if you ever let a blade ran through you again, I swear I will...'

'Your blade cannot kill me,' she stood up, her hands brushing dust off her clothes and her words brushing off his concern. No one's can in fact.' She looked at him, holding his burningly fuming gaze. 'Unless I choose to die or...'

'I die,' the prince completed the sentence for her.  'You know how much I wish I could free you from this bond.'

'Why? Are you tired of my company?' She chuckled a bit. 'Or do you doubt my capability to guard your life?'

'I don't need anyone dying for me!'

'Uh, that's why the Vajras call you the "fragile" prince!' Her look turned sharper. 'Don't give them, more reasons to boost how unbefitting the part Naga prince is for their throne, your highness!'

'Do their insults hurt you?' The prince asked slightly curious.

'Yes,' she said instantly and on second thoughts added. 'They hurt anyone who is loyal to the royal family.'

'Okay.' He sounded a tad disappointed.

Weary from their swords play and cuts in their skins stinging against the cold wind, they started to walk, skipping over the roots that obstructed their paths and kicking pebbles as they went.

'The Vajra community is under the impression that anyone who considers peace as an option is not a worthy ruler.' He continued as they walked.

Kavita nodded slightly.

'The Vajras are the warrior clan, they tend to prefer battles over peace, your tendency towards pacts and negotiations is a trait passed down from your Naga mother, the queen, your highness. I've never seen a Naga who appreciates what Vajras does or vice versa.'

'Just because one is not blood thirsty doesn't mean they cannot win wars.'

'True. Nagas self heal, they don't age, not to mention the brain...I shudder to think what a Naga would be like if they give up their love for peace...' Suddenly Kavita fell silent, standing still on her path until the prince almost bumped in to her.

'What happened?' He asked.

She stretched out her hand, a rare smile curling her lips as a stray flake of snow, landed on her palm, transparent and gleaming as it melted away meeting the warmth of her skin.

'It's snowing!' She said softly.

The prince watched her with an amused glint in his eyes. Not every day you would see that vulnerable side of Kavita, or that smile. She preferred to keep her steel mask on and remain unaffected.

'Kavi, I wanted to tell you something...' He said cautiously.

The snow flake had completely liquefied, rubbing her wet palm Kavita turned to watch him, and her smile disappeared.

'Don't say it, please.' She said in a chocked tone.

'But...'

'Sanskar, it will never be so. Don't say it and complicate things even more.' She captured another snow flake and watched it turning transparent. 'Someone's out there, who deserves to hear you say those words, someone who can repeat them to you, someone who is worthy, someone, who is not a guardian...'

*

Canada,  Halloween night, 2005

It still sounded like thunder, but Mama had explained her that it was not. Someone was banging the door; someone was pulling a Halloween prank on them. From the gap between the double doors of the wardrobe, she could peep out and see her mother still pacing the room, rubbing her hands anxiously.

She kept glancing at the closed door of the bedroom, as if wondering when it would open, and once or twice she checked the window, making sure it remained sealed. Something had frightened her, and the girl safely hidden away in the wardrobe, was wondering what it could be. As her mother passed the wardrobe, the girl backed away from her spying position, when she returned there, a new person was sitting in the sofa by the window, looking very relaxed and completely oblivious to the banging sound outside.

'Mohan!' Her mother exclaimed as she stopped pacing. The man gave her a tilt of his head; he was the same person from the morning. It was the man staring at them from the opposite end of the road.

'They're coming Arya,' he said quietly, 'You've been discovered.'

'And you?' Her mother questioned back. 'How long have you been following me?'

'Does that really matter?' The man stood up, his cold eyes boring in to hers. 'We're not the enemy, you choose the wrong side my dear.'

'I can't go back, not now, not after everything!'

'Of cause you can't,' Mohan agreed. 'You're already a traitor in the Vajra's eyes, but here a bigger trap has been laid out. They are coming for your life, coming to kill you and the moment you die...'

'The eye will be passed on!' Understanding dawned upon the woman, but it made her a tone paler if possible. 'Shona!'

She paced the room, once more, back and forth, coming to the conclusion Mohan hoped she would. But her silence bothered him; he had to interject a word there.

'You can still save her, the king would have nothing against her, I'm sure she would be protected.'

As she approached the wardrobe again the girl had to move away from the gap she was watching from. Instead of moving her mother stood there, watching Mohan as he approached her.

'You were once my best friend, the princess I was supposed to protect,' he said as he knelt before her. 'I know they have freed me from that bond, you're no longer one of us, but still I do care for my friend, my princess, you still have a right to order me.'

'By the time it matters, Vajras will have a new king, Anjanis would switch sides and Nagas will be useless, some of the most...the utmost vile kind of plots will be spun, would you still be able to guard my daughter amidst them?' She asked him, watching his head bowed in respect.

'I would guard her with my life...if that is what you want.'

'Do you think that I don't know who send you Mohan?' With a flicker of fear in his eyes Mohan looked up, his face a little bewildered. 'I know you were sent to kill me as well, what you will be doing is nothing but the task entrusted to you.' Mohan sighed.

'My lady I...'

'Still I will trust this task to you.' She cut in, dismissing his explanation. 'You may follow their orders as long as they don't threaten my daughter's life, when it does, you must override them; my daughter shall never be the Vajra's eye.'

'Do you vow to see my words are carried out?'

There was a pause, as Mohan's conscious continued to spin between his friendship and duty, finally he sighed.

'I do, my lady.'

*

Akashanagara, Dawn, 1st of November 2005

The crystal made a queer, echoing sound as it smashed on the stone ground. Thousand pieces of the glittering substance scattered at their feet. The seer smiled at the mess on the ground and said slowly without raising his eyes to meet the gaze of the angry man pacing before him.

'Only if you could smash your destiny like that...'

Pratula looked at the old hunch-backed seer with blazing eyes. 'Do you see me as a man who fears fate?' he spat at him.

'Fears, Oh no, your majesty, but perhaps driven by it'

Pratula was a tall man, pale unlike his sister Arya and hazel eyed. His dark hair falling to his eyes enhancing the rage they burned with. He walked across the stone floor smashing the pieces of crystal beneath his feat and turned to the seer once again.

'I changed the fate, the war is over,' he said in a sleek tone. 'You were wrong...my father was wrong! I am the Vajra now!'

'How wrong you are to begin with your majesty, it was not me who had written your fate'

'Who was it?' barked Pratula.

'The Vajra's eye,' said the seer calmly. 'It is the Vajra's eye that decides who the Vajra should be.'

Pratula let out a hallow laugh.

'Do you think I am a fool? I know the Vajra's eye can only see the future of the one before it, the hand that is placed upon it. How can it reveal my future to my father?' he demanded angrily.

'How foolish is one to think their destiny apart from the others,' the seer muttered to himself.
Then he looked up at his king.
'The fate is the eternal drama your majesty where we play a small part for the time being'

'You did not answer my question' said Pratula inhaling a long breath. 'How can the Vajra's eye foresee my destiny in my absence?'

'It did not.'

'So then?'

"Your father was not here to know about you, he was here to know who his successor should be'

'And?'

'My dear king, it is not you'

'It's her isn't it? My sweet, little, twin sister?'

'It's not her either'

'What?'

'You were hasty your majesty, the Vajra's eye had foreseen your attempt to murder her'

'Mohan!' said Pratula smacking his forehead. 'I should have known he would never kill her!'

'You sister is dead' said the seer calmly. 'And by killing her you have brought the possibility of your destruction in to existence my lord,'

   Pratula who was in the middle of heaving a deep sigh looked at the seer startled.

'By killing her you did not change you fate, but favored it.'

There was a deep silence then.

'Take me to the Vajra's eye, I need to see for myself' said Pratula calmly. 'I need to know who it is...' His eyes shone with an insane gleam in them. 'I will destroy every possibility...I just need to know who it is'

The seer did not reply. He bowed down with possible humor than respect.

'Take me to the Vajra's eye!'

'That is not possible your grace'

'Are you disobeying your king?' Pratula asked in a dangerous voice.

'No, my lord... I don't have the Vajra's eye anymore.'

'What? Where is it then?'

'It has been taken back to its rightful owners. As per the orders of your late father'

'But it belongs to us. We won it in battle.'

'No, my lord it belongs to all the Vajras and the consequences of claiming it are severe. You father had realized it and he ordered to send it back to the temple of Agni in Vajrateerta, its rightful place.'

Without replaying him Pratula turned to leave.

'There is no use of chasing a mirage my dear king' said the seer as the parting words.  At the entrance Pratula turned around and smiled in a frozen way.

'I must confess I cannot see the use of a seer who cannot stand up to his predictions and a temple which no longer possesses the eye of fire' he said in a cold tone.

'No!' said the seer in a desperate voice as Pratula laughed spreading his arms. As if struck by a lightning the temple of spirits exploded in to a ball of fire. As the fire died out there was nothing except for a pile of motionless ruin that lay under the purple sky. Pratula along with his army left without another glance back.

*