KRISHNA CORIOLIS#1: Slayer of Kamsa Read Free

their rajtarus to form an inverted V. The crooks of the sceptres dipped directly into the flames and the purohit ceased his ghee-tossing to allow the sacred fire to quell itself somewhat, lest the kings lose the skin of their arms. Beads of perspiration swelled and rolled down their faces as both monarchs held the crooks of their rajtarus in the fire just long enough to let the heat travel up to their bare hands.
    Finally, the royal purohit uttered the words quietly enough so that only the kings could catch it, and both lieges broke their stance, stepping away from the fire. They exchanged their sceptres, each handing over his proof of kingship at the exact same time as he accepted the other’s royal seal. This was executed with surprising ease, considering that both rajtarus were close to blistering hot by now. The watching assemblage could hardly know that both kings had had their hands anointed with a special herbal paste prior to the ceremony, or that the near- invisible paste prevented the transmission of heat quite effectively.
    The sight of the red-hot rajtarus being exchanged and then held aloft to allow every individual in the hall a chance to witness this momentous event, seared itself into the minds of all present. The painstakingly staged ceremony had served its purpose. Then, with obvious relief, and great smiles creasing their tense faces, the two kings embraced.
    The crowd released its breath. Upon the fortifiedpalace battlements, waiting courtiers blew long and hard on their conch-shell trumpets. The low, deep calling of the conches filled the air for hundreds of yojanas, echoed from end to end of both kingdoms, announcing the most welcome news in over two centuries. Peace. Shanti.
    Outside the Andhaka palace, the waiting crowd, which had now swollen to tens of thousands, broke into a ragged roar that almost drowned out the conches. Royal criers rode through the avenues and streets, pausing at corners to shout out the news – in Sanskrit, and then in commonspeak – confirming the details of the peace pact. Stone pillars, carved and ready for weeks, were hastily but ceremoniously erected at strategic spots in the capital city and at junctions along the national kingsroad, setting down the same details for posterity – or at least as long as stone and wind and rain would allow, which would probably be a millennium or two.
    Sadly, the peace pact itself was not to last even a fraction of that time.

    two

    The massive teak doors of the banquet hall flew open as if struck by a battering ram. They swivelled inwards on smoothly oiled tracks and crashed against the stone walls, swatting aside the guards milling about the entrance. Vasudeva glanced up from his meal just in time to see a young soldier’s foot caught by the lower bolt of a door, dragged to the wall, and crushed against the relentless stone with a bone-crunching impact that left the poor fellow’s face white.
    The other guards, drunk on the festive atmosphere and milling about jovially, responded belatedly, joining their lances and challenging the rude entrants. The armoured bull elephant that trundled into the banquet hall paid no heed to their shouted challenges. It was armoured in the fashion of Andhaka hathi-yodhhas – the dreaded war elephants of the Andhaka clan – its head couched in a formidable headpiece bristling with spikes that made it resemble some demon out of a myth, its tusks capped with brass horns tapering to resemble spears, and rows of ugly spikes protruding out of its sides.
    Vasudeva had seen the destruction that these hathi- yodhhas left in their wake during close combat. His heart lurched at the thought of the havoc even a single such monster could wreak in a confined, crowded space like this hall. The dried, brownish smears on the elephant’s armour left no doubt that the shield was not merely for decoration. This particular hathi-yodhha had seen active combat this very day and had taken lives in that action. Vasudeva