Chapter 16 - Hero of Dhira

  Five out of six ships had their sails lowered, stretched out as shade for the soldiers. Nobody had expected the open sea to be this merciless. It threw the sun back at them like a polished mirror. Even the fishermen never stayed out this long. The stink of unwashed men packed into wooden hulls was enough to make a man gag. Every ship kept at least three lengths between the next.

  Batra paddled a small boat across to Kariyan’s vessel, scrambled up the rope ladder, and picked his way through clusters of sweating men. The planks groaned under his sandals. The wind had died completely. He found Kariyan hunched over a scrap of palm leaf, sketching a new kind of ship with an extra deck just for rowers.

  “We’re running out of food and water and…” Batra stopped, glanced back at the soldiers who had been muttering among themselves. They fell quiet. “And discipline. Tell me you’ve got a plan. Six days out here already.”

  Kariyan rolled the sketch, handed it to the nearest man, and looked up with a crooked smile.

  “So the Elite Prince finally talks to me.”

  Batra shoved the soldier holding the umbrella aside. “Kariyan, you still sore about gurukulam? It wasn’t my fault how they treated you.”

  Kariyan just stared.

  “Adhiyavan and Sikala were decent to me!” Batra snapped, shame burning his cheeks. “Just forgive me already. I was stuck travelling with a foreign bastard. I couldn’t take it.”

  Kariyan pointed east across the glare. “Swim that way and you’ll reach Mahanad—the foreign land—soon enough.”

  Batra lost it. “Do you have a plan or not?”

  On Senga’s ship an oath was being sworn, voices low and steady. Kariyan walked to the rail and looked across. Batra followed, squinting against the blinding reflection.

  “See? The old lion still has total command over his men. Look at us.”

  Batra rested a hand on Kariyan’s shoulder. “You’re King of Vakkanam now. You’ll be fine. We don’t have to be brutal like him. Remember what the guru taught us.”

  “Yeah, Batra. Wars can be won without blood. I thought Adhiyavan would be different, but his thirst for revenge is darker than any of us.”

  “Kariya, remember when we used to dream about a united island? Janath, Sikala and Adhiyavan as emperors, all of us living in peace.”

  “Those were good days,” Kariyan said quietly. “But we’re not children anymore. We’re fighting our ancestors’ war, not ours. I hope our children get to live without it.”

  Three soldiers disguised as fishermen paddled out from shore and climbed aboard. “We’re close, my king. If the wind holds, we reach Dhira before nightfall.”

  Batra’s face lit up. He wiped sweat from his eyes and gripped Kariyan’s shoulders. “One piece of advice from a future king to a current one.”

  Kariyan grinned as he lowered the rope ladder to the waiting boat. “Come on, then. I have to tell the old lion anyway.”

  They dropped into the small boat. Kariyan took the oars.

  “Now tell me,” he said, still smiling.

  “War and battle are the only places where commoners get close to kings and commanders. Keep them far away—always.”

  Kariyan nodded.and Batra continued “You know the one thing the Chakran Empire kept from the old ways?”

  Kariyan shook his head and Batra continued

  “The class system. Not because it’s right—because it’s easy. Control the top layer and the rest follow. Treat everyone equally and you have to watch every single man. Who will die for the empire then? Who will stand sleepless on the border?”

  Kariyan only smiled. Some men never changed.

  “I had to swallow a lot of insults just because of Adhiyavan. He made me travel with that foreign bastard. In Anniyur we used to kill mixed-blood babies. The only reason that one lived is because he's related to the emperor.”

  Batra spat over the side. “Adhiyavan trusts low-born scum too easily. I bet Bila gets beaten and runs like his mother did.”

  Kariyan had never spoken to Bila, but the words felt too sharp. “What happened to his mother?”

  Batra scooped seawater in his hands and let it run through his fingers. “A few years back she ran off to the foreign islands and left his fat father behind.”

  They reached Senga’s ship, climbed aboard, and bowed. Kariyan passed the news—they were nearly at Dhira. The corner of Senga’s mouth lifted with the smallest smile.

  Kariyan had always respected the old commander. When Kariyan’s uncle tried to steal the throne and nearly wiped out the family, Senga and his men took it back. Kariyan had been too young to fight; he only knew the story from the war songs.

  Senga studied both young men. “First battle?”

  They nodded.

  “You’ll do well enough. You were trained at gurukulam.”

  Batra looked at the deck. “Not all of us,” he muttered, eyes drifting to the third ship where Bila sat sharpening his blade.

  Kariyan squeezed Batra’s arm, signalling him to shut up.

  The sun dropped fast. The sky turned orange, the wind returned, and soldiers hurried to raise the sails. Senga understood Batra’s hesitation about Bila. He rested a heavy hand on the younger man’s shoulder. Batra looked down, nervous.

  “Let me tell you something I’ve learned about war: the battlefield doesn’t care if you’re a prince or a bastard. It only speaks the language of steel and power. Leave the ruler’s mind on shore. Class divisions make life easier for kings and emperors back home—if you drag them onto the field, there won’t be any kingdoms left to rule.”

  The wind freshened. Kariyan gave the signal and sails snapped full. Batra and Kariyan returned to their own ships. Just before full dark, Bila rowed over to Senga’s vessel.

  Senga was drilling his troops on shield work against archers—long rectangular shields marked with the eagle sigil that terrified half the island. The sigil of King Aadhi. Bila watched closely as the ship rocked; the soldiers swayed but Senga stood like a rock.

  When night fell completely, nothing but starlight left, Bila walked to the stern where Senga stared out at the black sea.

  “Commander.”

  Senga smiled. “Nice to hear that again. I almost went mad when they started calling me Minister.”

  He raised a hand, spotted a distant flicker of light, and ordered silence. After a minute he grinned.

  “Lower the boats. You’re coming with me.”

  Bila rowed. Closer he saw a man with a jute sack over his head holding a torch. The man stood when he recognised Senga, bowed, and handed over palm-leaf letters.

  Senga knew him—one of the spies he’d planted in Chendurai when Sikala refused help. He read quickly, tossed the man a sack of gold coins, and turned back.

  “Adhiyavan’s orders: take the palace, bring that useless prince Nakalan alive.”

  Bila’s eyes widened. Senga had eyes inside the enemy camp.

  “We’re close to Dhira. We hit them tonight.”

  Senga’s men broke out the last barrel of toddy, drank with grim joy, and began arming up.

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  ****

  That same afternoon an important visitor had arrived at the Dhiran cliff—Uji. He stared at the palace with its fifty-foot walls of muddy gold. Inside the wall ran a decorative moat thick with lotus flowers.

  Uji slid off his horse. Beyond the palace lay the rest of Dhira: crumbling houses, narrow lanes, huts, open sewage running down the middle of the streets.

  He turned to Elaya. “Do we have to cross that?” He pointed at the ugly town.

  Elaya smiled. “No, Commander.” He nodded to his men. They rolled aside a big rock, revealing a hidden passage.

  “This leads straight into the palace. We dug it after the Ankalan annexation—just in case.”

  Uji and Elaya entered, leaving the horses with the troops. The tunnel was thirty feet wide, carved from the hill, gently spiralling downward, well lit with torches. Uji was impressed.

  “You Dhirans have surprised me. First the palace, now this secret way. Do the royals use it, or do they still have to ride through that filth?”

  “Rarely, Commander. The king and court mostly stay in the old fort.”

  Uji glanced back. “Old fort?”

  Elaya chuckled. “Yes. This new palace was built for Princess Aditi—Nakalan’s sister. She’s the king’s favourite. Wanted a room facing the sea, so the fishing families were moved out. They live just beyond the walls now.”

  Uji smirked. “Aditi sounds as spoiled as Nakalan. I hope they get along.”

  Elaya stopped walking. “Get along? Nakalan has tried to kill her twice for the throne. He hates matrilineal succession.”

  Uji’s face hardened. “We are not animals like the Chakrans. We follow the old ways—the ways this island was ruled for centuries. I’ll speak to that fool.”

  Elaya couldn’t hold his tongue. “He changed his mind after what the Sathyeran princess did… and the shame it brought you.”

  Uji stared until Elaya looked away.

  Two guards opened the inner gates. They climbed stairs into a courtyard. Servants and soldiers gathered at the sight of Elaya; Mallari music began. Everyone stared at the bare-chested man in a pleated saree with long white hair.

  Elaya introduced him loudly. “The Sathyeran commander. Member of the Great Council of Sathyera. A man who has never lost a duel.”

  Uji froze for half a second at the last words, then kept smiling.

  From the courtyard he could see the upper floor with its huge red pillars. Princess Aditi stood on the veranda a moment, then turned and disappeared into her rooms.

  Elaya ordered a feast even though the king was bedridden.

  They walked into Nakalan’s chamber. Thick cotton covered his face. Uji lifted his chin with two fingers.

  “Remove it, Nakala. I want to see.”

  The torn cheek, the scar running down, teeth exposed. Uji stepped back.

  Elaya watched Uji’s face go pale.

  “He did this… in one blow?” Uji’s mind flashed back to the Kadanchi tournament decades earlier.

  Nakalan breathed hard through his rage.

  Uji steadied himself. “I found who it was.”

  Nakalan grabbed his shoulders. “Tell me! Is the bastard alive? Tell me his name!”

  Uji smiled. “First tell me what you know about Urmi.”

  “Uji, stop playing games!”

  Uji sighed. Nakalan answered anyway.

  “Ancient martial art. Thin, flexible blades given only to royal Sathyerans and their commanders.”

  “Any similar art or weapon in Ankala?”

  “Silaq.”

  “And the Chakrans?”

  “They have none. They took Wutz steel from Pathukalan.”

  “Good. The four golden cloaks were killed by Wutz steel. What does that tell you?”

  Nakalan’s eyes widened. “Chakran…”

  “You were right. He is neither eunuch nor guard. It was the Chakran scum they call Adhiyavan.”

  Nakalan’s head dropped. A thousand thoughts crashed through him.

  “Elaya Uncle, what do we do? March on the Chakran border? No, we’d lose… Think, Nakala, think!” He beat his own head. “Can we swear allegiance to Sathyera? You’ll give me his head, won’t you, Uji?”

  Elaya looked terrified. Uji shook Nakalan by the shoulders until he calmed.

  “I have a better idea. Want to hear it, Nakala?”

  Nakalan nodded frantically.

  Uji sat him on the bed, took the cloth, and began wrapping the ruined face again while he spoke.

  “Elaya, tell me—what do you do with spies who serve an enemy king?”

  “Execute them without mercy.”

  “Does the law apply to commoners?”

  “Yes.”

  “Warriors?”

  “Yes.”

  “Princes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Empress?”

  Elaya and Nakalan stared, stunned. Uji smiled wider.

  “Your Empress has committed the greatest treason. She allied—worse, she slept with—the Chakran whose father killed your emperor. Isn’t that enough to unite every king and rise against that whore?”

  Elaya and Nakalan began to smile.

  “Unite the kings. Send me a word. I’ll send the Vajra regiment into Ankala and make you emperor. Your sister can keep Dhira.”

  Nakalan slammed his fist on the bed. “Yes! Do it now! Uncle, go! Tell every king about that whore. We take Chendurai first, then Chakra! Go! Go now!”

  Elaya smiled, took both their hands. “Thank you, Commander. I leave my nephew in safe hands. Nakala, I’ll leave after the feast—”

  Nakalan kicked his uncle’s leg. “Go now!” Elaya tumbled. Uji caught Nakalan’s arm before he could strike again.

  ****

  That night the ships anchored a kadam offshore. Eighteen boats loaded with weapons, led by three commanders. Senga, King Kariyan, and Batra landed first.

  Senga’s hundred men hit the beach, waves licking their ankles. Senga opened the map the spy had given him.

  “The palace is just ahead. This isn’t the main fort—this is where the scum Nakalan stays. We need him alive.”

  The rest of the troops came ashore in total darkness and armed up. Kariyan and Batra led the main force. Bila followed silently.

  They moved a few minutes. Senga suddenly crouched and raised his fist. Everyone froze.

  The palace was brightly lit; music drifted out. The outer wall stood fifty feet high, gates closed but lightly guarded.

  Senga split the force into three groups. He took half the archers and fifty soldiers to breach the wall first. Once it was down, Kariyan and Batra would storm in and kill everyone except Nakalan.

  Kariyan and Batra nodded. Senga melted into the dark with his men.

  He placed ten of his best archers behind a sand dune near the watchtower that guarded the approach to the wall.

  “Now.”

  Eight arrows found their marks. The alarm bell began ringing.

  “Again.”

  More arrows. Defence weakened fast.

  “Soldiers—march!”

  Senga roared and charged in his roaring-lion armour and helmet. His eagle sigiled men followed.

  He kicked in the watchtower door, cut down two guards, and raced up the spiral stairs. Arrows whistled past. His men stayed close. At the top he killed ten more, judged the gap to the palace wall, and jumped. His soldiers followed. Dhiran troops swarmed them. Chakran archers on the ground gave cover. In minutes the wall was theirs.

  Senga slid down a rope and protected the men opening the gates.

  From below, Kariyan and Batra watched open-mouthed as Senga leapt from watchtower to wall.

  “Idiots built their watchtower outside the palace,” Batra muttered.

  “In Vakkanam we don’t even have a palace or a watchtower,” Kariyan replied.

  The gates swung open.

  Batra shouted, “Go! Go!”

  The first wave carried extra shields and weapons inside. Batra grabbed Kariyan’s arm.

  “Let’s build your own palace back in Vakkanam.”

  They stormed in, blades flashing, cutting down every Dhiran in reach.

  The feast hall was at the far end of the palace, doors closed. Princess Aditi had refused to attend; she stayed in her chambers playing with her nieces and her aunt Mathi Elaya . When a golden cloak burst in shouting that an unknown army was attacking, she refused to believe it at first.

  “Are you drunk, idiot?”

  Arrows hitted the red pillar

  She quickly hid all fifteen women in a secret room and began to pray.

  In the feast hall the Dhiran chieftains sat with Nakalan’s trusted men. Uji lounged at the centre.

  “Should I call you Emperor Nakalan now?” one joked.

  The chieftains saw Nakalan smile for the first time in weeks.

  Eight golden cloaks rushed in. “Invasion!”

  Nakalan’s face turned red. “Who? Did Ankala send men?”

  The cloaks shook their heads.

  Nakalan ordered everyone out. Uji was already strapping on his armour, drawing his long sword.

  “Nakala, stay with me. I’ll guard you.”

  He took Nakalan’s hand and headed for the secret passage.

  Bila had been left on his own. He killed a few soldiers, spotted a golden cloak on the upper floor, and followed alone. The man came out of a chamber only to meet Bila’s sword. Bila stepped inside the empty room and noticed a small gap behind a shelf. His soldiers poured in, grabbing gold, silk, vessels,fruits

  “Next room,” Bila ordered. He waited until they left, then closed the door, walked to the shelf, and moved it aside.

  Fifteen terrified women huddled on the floor, mouths covered, trying not to cry. They shrank back when they saw him.

  He approached the woman holding a throwing knife, gently took it from her trembling hand, and tucked it in his belt.

  “I'm princess Aditi, take me and leave them alone!”

  Bila sheathed his sword. “Quiet. I won’t hurt you.I’ll guard this chamber as long as I can. Don’t make a sound.”

  Bila slid the shelf back, piled furniture against it, and left. In the courtyard below he saw Senga surrounded by eight golden cloaks. Bila started down but Senga glared—stay out of it.

  The golden cloaks were fully armoured, yet Senga dropped two in seconds, throats opened.

  Bila saw men running into the secret passage and joined them. At the end of the tunnel the group stopped. He pushed forward until he stood beside Kariyan.

  A fully armoured man with long white hair stood guard over a torn-faced figure. Ten dead Chakran soldiers lay at their feet.

  Kariyan pointed out a man, “That’s Nakalan—our target.”

  Bila asked, “Who’s the other one?”

  Uji raised his voice. “I am Uji, Sathyeran commander. I challenge your army to a samir.”

  Bila looked confused as Uji tore a strip of cloth and tied it around his arms.

  Kariyan explained quietly. “Old rule. When forces are uneven, champions fight. The cloth can be passed. If they win, we leave them alive.”

  Batra stepped into the ring and tied the cloth to his own arm.

  “You know my friend killed four Sathyeran commanders by himself. You should have surrendered.”

  Batra drew his Wutz-steel long sword. The thin blade caught the torchlight and shined like a ruby stone.

  Uji’s eyes widened. “Chakran scum… how—”

  “We swam here,” Batra said with a grin.

  Nakalan sat bleeding at the far end, twin Urmi blades across his lap.

  The first clash—Wutz steel chipped some pieces of Uji’s blade.

  Batra was taller, broader. To anyone watching, the fight looked decided. But Uji, though older and carrying a heavier sword, was lightning fast. His long white hair whipped like he was dancing.

  Kariyan asked Bila, “Who wins?”

  “Batra, of course, my king. He was kind to me even though he’s high-born. I’d die for Adhiyavan and Batra both.”

  Kariyan gave him a strange look.

  Uji pressed hard, not giving Batra time to think. Batra could only defend. Uji had already killed ten men that night, yet his stamina at his age was frightening.

  They circled again, chests heaving.

  “Throw away the Wutz and show me who you really are,” Uji said.

  Batra’s pride stung. He tossed the royal blade and took an ordinary sword from a soldier. Then he charged.

  The heavier blade slowed him. Uji used the moment, kicked Batra’s legs out, and both men went down. Soldiers fell silent. Nakalan gripped the Urmi blades tighter.

  Batra rose and rained blows at Uji’s face. He managed one cut under Uji’s eye and sliced off a lock of white hair. Uji slid back on his knees.

  “No one touches Uji’s hair.” His eyes flicked toward the Urmi blades. Batra knew if Uji reached them the fight was over.

  Batra lunged. Uji stayed calm, took every blow on his sword, tired Batra out, then Uji punched him square in the nose.

  Blood poured. Uji mocked, “A prince with a broken nose!”

  Batra lost control and attacked wildly. Uji dodged, waited, then hammered Batra’s face until he dropped.

  Kariyan sent a runner for Senga.

  The soldier reached the courtyard and found sixteen dead golden cloaks and Senga hold 2 more. Senga kicked one and swiped the Wutz blade which tore the armour and their intestines spat out.

  Another soldier ran up shouting, “Commander! The prince is beaten!”

  Senga sprinted for the passage and arrived just as Uji stood over the fallen Batra, mocking him.

  Then everything went quiet.

  Bila stepped forward, took the cloth from Batra’s arm, tied it to his own, and helped the injured prince out of the ring. The ground was already slick with blood.

  Kariyan shouted, “ What are you doing?”

  Senga held Kariyan back. He had noticed how Batra held his sword and shield—exactly the way King Aadhi did. Sword over long shield

  Uji nodded for Bila to attack first.

  Bila advanced with the shield raised, forcing Uji to strike. A few blows bounced off the heavy shield. Bila tested Uji’s speed and realised quickness was his only edge.

  He backed Uji against the wall using only the shield, never swinging once. Uji tried to slip sideways; Bila cut off every escape, switching shield and sword so fast it looked like magic.

  Uji finally forced his way free with a flurry of strikes. In one heartbeat when Uji’s sword rested only on the shield, Bila sliced the ties of Uji’s armour. The plates fell away, revealing the pleated saree underneath.

  Some soldiers laughed. Others gasped. Uji’s face burned with fury. He ran back to Nakalan, snatched the twin Urmi blades, and whirled them out to their full ten-foot reach.

  “I spared your little prince Batra. You will die.”

  He danced forward, blades flashing.

  Bila glanced at Senga. The shield drill from yesterday flashed in his mind. He smiled, dropped his sword, and took a second long shield from a nearby soldier—the kind that covered from head to hip.

  Uji spun in. Bila walked straight into the storm, twin shields locked, and slammed one into Uji’s chin. Uji flew backward, dropped the Urmi blades, and hit the ground.

  Bila was on him instantly, fists raining down until Uji’s face floated in his own blood.

  Senga pulled Bila off. “Enough.” He signalled his men to take Nakalan.

  Senga looked at Bila—face covered in Uji’s blood—and raised the young man’s arm high.

  “Hero of Dhira!” he roared to the cheering soldiers.

  The soldiers cheered and Batra stood up limping near Senga and Bila held him. Batra raised Bila's hand “My friend, Hero of Dhira!!”

  Kariyan held Nakalan by his neck and smiled at Batra. They walked out to the courtyard. Soldiers were carrying whatever they could to the boats.

  The moat was full of blood now, lotus flowers drifting through it, fire torches reflecting off the surface. Bila saw his own face in the moat and smiled and turned and looked the princess chamber which was untouched

  Senga, Kariyan, Batra and Bila reached the ship and tied Nakalan on a pillar

  Senga drank toddy for the first time in this voyage and smiled at Nakalan

  “Remember, What you did to me on that Day on Chendurai Court !!. You mistook me for an old Chakran messenger and insulted me on the court and dragged a royal messenger with your puny golden cloak!!”

  He searched his belt and got a ring and threw it

  The ring belonged to the head commander of the golden cloak.

  Senga stared at Nakalan

  “I killed them all!”