‘My Lord!’ shrieked Divodas, his fear palpable. ‘You have killed them all! Please stop!’

As Kartik’s breathing slowed, he allowed his gaze to take in the scene of destruction all around him. Hacked bodies littered the battlefield. A once proud Magadhan army completely decimated. Divodas’ frontal attack combined with the rear cavalry charge had achieved Kartik’s plan.

Kartik could still feel the adrenalin coursing furiously through his veins.

Divodas, still afraid of Kartik, whispered. ‘You have won, My Lord.’

Kartik raised his long sword high and shouted, ‘Har Har Mahadev!’

The Brangas roared after him, ‘Har Har Mahadev!’

Kartik bent down and flipped a Magadhan’s decapitated head with his sword, then turned to Divodas. ‘Find Surapadman. If there’s life left in him, I want him brought to me alive.’

‘Yes, My Lord,’ said Divodas and rushed to obey.

Kartik wiped both his swords on the clothing of a fallen Magadhan soldier and carefully caged the blades in the scabbards tied across his back. The Branga soldiers maintained a respectful distance from him, terrified of the brutal violence they had just witnessed. He walked slowly towards the river, bent down, scooped some water in his palms and splashed it on his face. The river had turned red due to the massive bloodletting that had just occurred. He was covered with blood and gore. But his eyes were clean. Still. The bloodlust had left him.

Later in the day, when the dead were counted, it would emerge that seventy thousand of the Magadhan army from amongst seventy-five thousand had been slaughtered, burned or drowned. Kartik, on the other hand, had lost only five thousand of his one hundred thousand men. This was not a battle. It had been a massacre.

Kartik looked up at the sky. The first rays of the sun were breaking on the horizon, heralding a new day. And on this day, a legend had been born. The legend of Kartik, the Lord of War!

Chapter 24

The Age of Violence

The golden orb of a rising sun peeked from the mainland to the right as a strong southerly wind filled their sails, racing them towards the port of Lothal. Shiva, with Sati at his side, stood poised on the foredeck, eyes transfixed northwards, wishing their ship all speed.

‘I wonder how the war has progressed in Swadweep,’ said Sati.

Shiva turned to her with a smile. ‘We do not know if there has been a war at all, Sati. Maybe Ganesh’s tactics have worked.’

‘I hope so.’

Shiva held Sati’s hand. ‘Our sons are warriors. They are doing what they are supposed to. You don’t need to worry about them.’

‘I’m not worried about Ganesh. I know that if he can avoid bloodshed, he will. Not that he’s a coward, but he understands the futility of war. But Kartik... He loves the art of war. I fear he will go out of his way to court danger.’

‘You’re probably right,’ said Shiva. ‘But you cannot change his essential character. And in any case, isn’t that what being a warrior is all about?’

‘But every other warrior goes into battle reluctantly. He fights because he has to. Kartik is not like that. He’s enthused by warfare. It seems that his swadharma is war. That worries me,’ said Sati, expressing her anxieties about what she felt was Kartik’s personal dharma.

Shiva drew Sati into his arms and kissed her on her lips, reassuringly. ‘Everything will be all right.’

Sati smiled and rested her head on Shiva’s chest. ‘I must admit that helped a bit...’

Shiva laughed softly. ‘Let me help you some more then.’

Shiva raised Sati’s face and kissed her again.

‘Ahem!’

Shiva and Sati turned around to find Veerbhadra and Krittika approaching them.

‘This is an open deck,’ said a smiling Veerbhadra, teasing his friend. ‘Find a room!’

Krittika hit Veerbhadra lightly on his stomach, embarrassed. ‘Shut up!’

Shiva smiled. ‘How’re you, Krittika?’

‘Very well, My Lord.’

‘Krittika,’ said Shiva. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? You are my friend’s wife. Call me Shiva.’

Krittika smiled. ‘I’m sorry.’

Shiva rested his hand on Veerbhadra’s shoulder. ‘What did the captain say, Bhadra? How far are we?’

‘At the rate we’re sailing, just a few more days. The winds have been kind.’

‘Hmmm... have you ever been to Lothal or Maika, Krittika?’

Krittika shook her head. ‘It’s difficult for me to get pregnant, Shiva. And that is the only way that an outsider can enter Maika.’

Shiva winced. He had touched a raw nerve. Veerbhadra did not care that Krittika couldn’t conceive, but it still distressed her.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Shiva.

‘No, no,’ smiled Krittika. ‘Veerbhadra has convinced me that we are good enough for each other. We don’t need a child to complete us.’

Shiva patted Veerbhadra’s back. ‘Sometimes we barbarians can surprise even ourselves with our good sense.’

Krittika laughed softly. ‘But I have visited the older Lothal.’

‘Older Lothal?’

‘Didn’t I tell you?’ asked Sati. ‘The seaport of Lothal is actually a new city. The older Lothal was a river port on the Saraswati. But when the Saraswati stopped reaching the sea, there was no water around the old city, ending its vibrancy. The locals decided to recreate their hometown next to the sea. The new Lothal is exactly like the old city, except that it’s a sea port.’

‘Interesting,’ said Shiva. ‘So what happened to old Lothal?’

‘It’s practically abandoned, but a few people continue to live there.’

‘So why didn’t they give the new city a different name? Why call it Lothal?’

‘The old citizens were very attached to their city. It was one of the greatest cities of the empire. They didn’t want the name to disappear in the sands of time. They also assumed most people would forget old Lothal.’

Shiva looked towards the sea. ‘New Lothal, here we come!’

The sun had risen high over Bal-Atibal Kund. It was the third hour of the second prahar. The bodies of the fallen Magadhans and Brangas were being removed to a cleared area in the forest where, to the drone of ritual chanting, their mortal remains were being cremated. Considering the massive number of Magadhan dead, this was back-breaking work. But Kartik had been insistent. Valour begot respect, whether in life or in the aftermath of death.

‘Has Surapadman not been found yet?’ asked Bhagirath, his eyes scanning the sands of the kund. Yesterday they were pristine white. Today they were a pale shade of pink, discoloured by massive quantities of blood.

‘Not as yet,’ said Kartik. ‘Initially I thought he was fighting on the southern front. We were unable to find him there so I assumed he would be here.’

Maatali, the Vaishali king, had proved his naval acumen by destroying the rearguard of the Magadhan fleet. Having heard of Kartik’s valour and ferocity, he now viewed him with newfound respect. Gone were the last traces of indulgence for the son of the Neelkanth.

‘How far is my brother’s fleet, King Maatali?’ asked Kartik.

‘I’ve sent some of my rowboats upriver. It is clogged with the debris of the Magadhan ships. Our boats are trying to clear up the mess, but it will take time. And Lord Ganesh is moving carefully so the ships don’t sustain any damage. So he will take some time to get here.’