The rescue party of five hundred soldiers had reached by the fourth hour of the second prahar. Daksha, Brahaspati and Kanakhala had accompanied the caravan despite Parvateshwar’s warnings of the risks. Releasing Sati from his grip, Daksha whispered as a small tear escaped his eyes, ‘You are not injured, are you?’

‘I am alright father,’ said Sati self-consciously. ‘Just a few cuts. Nothing serious.’

‘She fought very bravely,’ said Veerini, as she beamed with pride.

‘I think that is a mother’s bias,’ said Sati, as her serious expression was restored. Turning towards Shiva, she continued, ‘It was Shiva who saved the day, father. He figured out the real plan of the Chandravanshis and rallied everyone at the crucial moment. It was because of him that we beat them back.’

‘Oh, I think she’s too generous,’ said Shiva.

She’s impressed. Finally!!

‘She isn’t being generous at all, my Lord,’ said a visibly grateful Daksha. ‘You have started your magic already. We have actually beaten back a terrorist attack. You don’t know how significant this is for us!’

‘But it wasn’t a terrorist attack, your Highness’ said Shiva. ‘It was an attempt to kidnap the princess.’

‘Kidnap?’ asked Daksha.

‘That hooded man certainly wanted her alive and unharmed.’

‘What hooded man?!’ cried Daksha, alarmed.

‘That was the Naga, your Highness,’ said Shiva, surprised at Daksha’s hysterical response. ‘I have seen that man fight. He is an excellent warrior. A little slow in his movements, but excellent all the same. But while fighting Sati he was trying his best not to hurt her.’

The colour drained completely from Daksha’s face. Veerini glared at her husband with a strange mixture of fear and anger. The expressions on their faces made Shiva feel uncomfortable, as if he was intruding on a private family moment.

‘Father?’ asked a worried Sati. ‘Are you alright?’

Hearing no response from Daksha, Shiva turned to Sati and said, ‘Perhaps it’s best if you speak to your family alone. If you don’t mind, I will go check if Nandi and the other soldiers are alright.’

Parvateshwar was walking around his men, checking on the injured and ensuring that they received medical help, with Bhabravya two steps behind. He came up to the Chandravanshi who had been killed by Shiva while protecting Nandi. He roared in horror, ‘This man has been stabbed in the back!’

‘Yes, my Lord,’ said Bhabravya with his head bowed.

‘Who did this? Who broke the sacred rules of combat?’

‘I think it was the foreigner, my Lord. But I heard that he was trying to protect Captain Nandi who had been attacked by this Chandravanshi. And the Chandravanshi himself was not following the combat rules having attacked Nandi below the waist.’

Parvateshwar turned with a withering look at Bhabravya, causing him to cower in fear. ‘Rules are rules,’ he growled. ‘They are meant to be followed even if your enemy ignores them.’

‘Yes, my Lord.’

‘Go make sure that the dead get proper cremations. Including the Chandravanshis.’

‘My Lord?’ asked a surprised Bhabravya. ‘But they are terrorists.’

‘They may be terrorists,’ snarled Parvateshwar. ‘But we are Suryavanshis. We are the followers of Lord Ram. There are norms that we follow even towards our enemies. The Chandravanshis will get proper cremations. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, my Lord.’

‘Why do you call the foreigner “Your Lord”?’ asked an injured Arishtanemi lying next to Nandi.

Shiva had just departed after spending half an hour with Nandi and the other injured soldiers. If one saw the injured at this point, it would be impossible to believe that they had fought a battle just a few hours ago. They were talking jovially with each other. Some were ribbing their mates about how they had fallen for the red-herring at the beginning of the battle. In the Kshatriya way, to laugh in the face of death was the ultimate mark of a man.

‘Because he is my Lord,’ answered Nandi simply.

‘But he is a foreigner. A caste unmarked foreigner,’ said the Arishtanemi. ‘He is a brave warrior, no doubt. But there are so many brave warriors in Meluha. What makes him so special? And why does he spend so much time with the royal family?’

‘I can’t answer that, my friend. You will get to find out when the time is right.’

The Arishtanemi looked at Nandi quizzically. Then shook his head and smiled. He was a soldier. He bothered himself only with the here and now. Bigger questions did not dwell too long in his mind. ‘In any case, I think the time is right to tell you that you are a brave man, my friend. I saw you fight despite your injury. You don’t know the meaning of the word surrender. I would be proud to have you as my bhraata!’

That was a big statement from the Arishtanemi. The bhraata system that was followed in the Meluhan army meant that each soldier up to the rank of a captain was assigned a mate of equal rank. The two bhraatas would be like brothers who would always fight together and look out for each other. They would willingly fight the world for each other, would never love the same woman and would always tell each other the truth, no matter how bitter.

The Arishtanemi were elite soldiers of the empire. An Arishtanemi offered to be a bhraata only to his own kind. Nandi knew that he could never really be the Arishtanemi’s bhraata. He had to stay with the Lord. But the honour of being offered the brotherhood of an Arishtanemi was enough to bring tears to Nandi’s eyes.

‘Don’t get teary on me now,’ chorded the Arishtanemi, wrinkling his nose in amusement.

Nandi burst out in laughter as he slapped the Arishtanemi on his arm.

‘What is your name, my friend?’ asked Nandi.

‘Kaustav,’ replied the Arishtanemi. ‘Someday we shall batde the main Chandravanshi army together, my friend. And by the grace of Lord Ram, we will kill all those bastards!’

‘By Lord Agni, we will!’

‘It was interesting how you got into the Naga’s mind,’ said Brahaspati as he watched Shiva getting the gash on his torso cleaned and dressed.

Shiva had insisted that his injuries receive medical attention only after every other soldier’s wounds had been tended.

‘Well, I can’t really explain it,’ said Shiva. ‘How the Naga would think just seemed so obvious to me.’

‘Well, I can explain it!’

‘Really? What?’

‘The explanation is that you are the omnipotent “N”, whose name cannot be spoken!’ said Brahaspati, opening his eyes wide and conjuring his hands up like an ancient magician.

They burst out laughing, causing Shiva to rock back slightly. The military doctor gave Shiva a stern look, at which he immediately quietened down and let him finish tending to the wound. Having applied the Ayurvedic paste and covering it with the medicinal neem leaf, the doctor bandaged the wound with a cotton cloth.

‘You will need to change that every second day, foreigner,’ said the doctor pointing at the bandage. ‘The royal doctor in Devagiri will be able to do it for you. And don’t let this area get wet for a week. Also, avoid the Somras for this period since you will not be able to take a complete bath.’