Daughter of the Naga | Lesbian Story|

Chapter 55

We went in a westerly direction and came closer to the Terrace of the Elephant. Following the path to another splendid temple, we could see the Victory Gate from a distance.

"We should not go near the encampment," I said.

"No, we're not," Amarisa said. "Let me show you the place we might rest."

Then she steered the horse off the path. It took a while until we saw another tower crowned with gold pinnacle. The complex was the shape of a three-tier pyramid. It had a lotus pond decorated with serpent-princesses. I could see stone sculptures of both male and female winged Kennars at the entrance. Other mythical winged creatures attached to the gallery walls.

"Oh wow, what is that temple for?" I said.

"Phimean Akas, 'the Astral Palace'," Amarisa answered. "It's where a serpent-spirit with nine heads lives. In the old day, the king spent the first watch of every night with a Naga woman in the tower. Not even the queen was permitted to intrude. Only after the second watch that the king could return to his palace. If the king did not present himself, his day would be numbered. If the Naga did not show herself, calamity would strike his land."

"So your father has to go there, too?" I said and looked at the temple.

"Legends can be half true and half false, Nikita," Amarisa said. "My father has never spent any night there at all."

"Why?" I said. "Is it because your mother wouldn't allow it?"

This time Amarisa was silent for a moment.

"No," she said. "It's because the Naga Spirit doesn't show up anymore."

I knew right away what that signified, and decided not to ask any further.

We found ourselves at the border of a small older city called, Isvarapura.

We decided to go on foot instead and let our Ashva rest inside the wooden rest house preserved for travelers.

A beautiful little town with dirt road stretched through to a gathering place. I realized it was a market.

I saw mostly women. They were weighing goods. Others walked with straw baskets on their heads. There were merchants and vendors, selling their wares on large straw mats on the ground.

The town abodes were set on round wooden pillars with porches. I watched in fascination as some of the people cooked their meals in earthen pots. The delicious scent brushed my nose as they stirred their soup with coconut shell ladles. Rice and soup were then served in a tiny bowl made from woven leaves, which were apparently leak-proof.

Amarisa drew her scarf over her head to ward off attention. Her royally fair complexion was still hard to miss. The local people also found me out of place. With all my strange clothing and foreign looks, I confused the young children the most. They began to follow us. Some trotted along on their makeshift horses made of banana leaves. The curious ones got as far as to touch my hand as if to see I was real. When I smiled at them, they giggled and shied away.

Going further inside, the city surprised us with a lovely temple of great beauty. It bathed in radiant sunlight. The miniature scale and deep flawless carvings were a true masterpiece of mason art.

"We will rest in that temple, Nikita," Amarisa said.

I nodded with a smile. We walked hand in hand towards the entrance.

Built almost entirely from pink sandstones and red bricks, the temple seemed more suited for small children than adults to enter. There were temple guards at the Gopura entrances.