Haimavati
The amphitheater, the epicenter of hosting the Fest in Madhyakshetra, was choked with sumptuous décor and bustled with noisy crowds.
A river of people flocked into the building, wading in a single direction. Their heads up and gazing wide-eyed at the gigantic urn placed at the center of the stage. Haimavati smiled mirthlessly. It was ironic how these people who had been chastising her for siding with Almourah and agreeing to marry a younger man had accepted the wedding invitation and were now geared up to go more ballistic on her. Why wouldn't they, it's more entertaining to be a ratifying self-righteous hypercritic, than to have an empathetic sense.
Perhaps it was only her children who stayed back home and did not dare participate in this act of barbarity. She wondered where Endira and Bhagwad were sitting. And would Kshaturya sneak in to convince her to accept his dishonorable bidding?
The gigantic pot-like urn, remarkably tall as a lofty hill, was plunged into wildfire hell. Grisly black smoke swirled up and clouded in the sky. Strange runes were carved around the metal surface, the runes representing the luminous stars and the cosmic legendary collision. The result of this was refined, elegant tiny stars carved below in the form of colorful asterisks.
The stage was double tired and the members of the Panchayat, the finely dressed nobles had arranged themselves in the tire below. Haimavati had hardly ever seen them half so well attended. They were busy examining the burning urn-pointing fingers at the runes, occasionally bending over to participate in the discussions, faces tense, and making several hand gestures.
Haimavati, in her traditional red and gold classic wedding attire and accessorized with heavy jewelry, was stifled by the suffocating heat. She was alone in her personal bridal chamber, with the fireflies flitting in and out of the window. She sat on the chair and gazed outside at the crowding theatre and public gallery. She then held her concentration on the Great Throne and the scepter placed behind the urn, in between the group of nobles. In about a few moments the throne shall be acquired by Lady Chandrika. Haima's blood began to run cold. An image of her rival holding the scepter and kissing the top of it conjured up in her mind.
A servant walked by, knocked on the door, and answered Haima's inquisitive gaze with a nod. Haima sighed, got up from the chair, and made a way towards the door. Her mind fogged up with clouds of worry. It was time to make reforms for a better future.
She crossed the corridor, ignoring the many heads turning towards her. Vague gales of sardonic laughter came wafting through. Disapproving murmurs scattered around, all coming down to – "Women such as her are good as dead" or "A mage and a queen aside, she's first and foremost only a woman from slums, what do you expect?" Heart constricted, she headed down the stairs surrounded by closed wards. Let them talk.
The amphitheater sprang to life with a far-off bellow of Lady Chandrika. "On this special day," she announced. "I give to you in the presence of the Panchayat and all these witnesses my pledge to revolutionize the country and to stay by your side as your faithful Queen in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, as well as through the good times and the bad. My youngest son here..."
Haima bristled despite the efforts and hurried down the stairs. She chose not to listen to the announcement anymore. Lady Chandrika's voice gave her an unbearable itch and sweat. A decade earlier a wedding as such was considered illegal, the unison that was clearly based on a criminal act- harassment and blackmailing. This made her realize how easy it was to change the law, how easily Lady Chandrika had manipulated the members of Panchayat who once had worked under her late husband and refused to accept her as their queen in command. Cajolery. That was the only skill Haima had never been able to develop well for herself, even though the country had an otherwise opinion. Cajolery is part of politicking, she finally brought herself to accept the fact. After all, you catch more flies with honey.
Haima strode rapidly down the lane leading toward the stage. From the corner of her eye, she noticed with disgust that Parthiva was approaching, dressed in a yellow loincloth and red shimmering vest. Lady Chandrika was standing at the front of the stage, grinning ear to ear and putting her welcoming gesture in words. Her voice from the speaker's trumpet droned on followed by a wave of enthusiastic clapping.
Parthiva walked nearer and stood in front of Haima who had her head bent down. To gaze into those eyes, which must be smiling with triumph, would only make her stomach churn more. Lady Chandrika handed over Parthiva a shiny golden Vrindahina flower, one saved since the past Fest for this very occasion. Far from somewhere came the beating of the bongo drums. Parthiva took another step up front, standing within spitting distance. Lifted his hand, pushed her veil aside, and stuck the flower in her hair.
The sound of the cheering crowd was loud but not as much as Haima's heart pounding still.
"Now it's holy," whispered Parthiva.
A gentle whisper it was but the voice grated on her ears worse than the nails against the tar street. Despite the heat, freezing chills ran up and down her spine. However. she stayed put, expressionless and wordless. She simply let Parthiva take in all the pride and rise the banner, if he must, to proclaim his victory.
Lady Chandrika came over to her side and said, "It's time to walk through Yajna and make yourself immortal. You will not feel a thing while walking through. Cornelian will burn once the act is complete. That will indicate that your fate is sealed. And listen, there shall be no misconduct, absolutely no funny business from your side. Otherwise, more people die. Understood?"
Haima gave a single nod.
Lady Chandrika continued, giving her a fake smile and adjusting the flower on Haima's head. "Fulfill my son's desires. That is the greatest and the last thing you could ever do for this country. Just one last attempt and you'll be released from your duties forever. Take her away."
Parthiva clamped his hand onto her wrist, her bangles cracked and he pulled her with him. They walked together, Haima a bit hesitatingly or so she wanted to make a show of it. Parthiva rushed towards the staircase leading up to the upper surface of the urn, the speed of which reflected his curiosity to win widespread acclaim for his invention, the main objective of the magic that had never been his own.
They crept up the staircase. Haima felt her insides melting when they were surrounded by a certain aura of warmth. The fire billowed as they approached nearer, the intensity of which Haima felt coursing through her veins burning her insides. There was a wild, peculiar glare made from the magical fire. She knew for a fact that Lady Chandrika and Parthiva had strived hard by all means to fulfill their ambition, and had worked day and night for perfection. Their invention could not be deemed anything less than laudable, had it not been invented to seal her fate or anyone else's for a matter of fact. Were there any other uses besides fixing the fate of the person? She wouldn't know. This Yajna needed a human sacrifice, she cared only that much. The magic of this kind should never be legalized.
Parthiva looked astride at her. She defied meeting his eyes. "I have been waiting for this moment for years," he said, "Be mine, and the country breathes."
He pulled her harshly, setting off inside the pathway amidst fire at a brisk pace. The fire enraged them as they took a step inside it. The cheers of the crowd rumbled out, the chorus as though the signals were decided beforehand. Haima labored on through a subtle heat, every bit as hot as outside the urn. Several sparks of fire flew off like launched arrows. Whispery high-pitched sounds reverberated from the streams of flames. Haima recognized those voices. The fire spirits were intoning a chant prearranged to rewrite her destiny. Slowly they emerged in front of her eyes, each of them a length of a finger with tiny fluttering wings flashing like silvery moonlight.
They were almost at the other end of the fire from where the members of the Panchayat were visible. The excitement in their faces was gusting up from them. The moment when they were about a few strides away, Parthiva held his Cornelian in his other hand and checked the intensity. "It's not burning!" he heaved, horrified. Haima smiled.
The exit was only a dozen strides away. The cheering began to dissolve, manifesting into a disappointing noise. Parthiva swiftly turned towards her and forcibly made her stop. "Do you feel anything? Do you?" He demanded, his eyes burning brighter than fire surrounding them.
"No. I don't," Haima answered sweetly.
"Impossible," he whispered and glared down at her, his soft brown eyes turning hard. "What did you do?" He growled, his voice sounding hoarse.
Haima's smile deepened. The fire spirits were yet humming the chant and the jubilation in her heart made her feel magically stronger and gustier. Energy flowed through her like water, her mind and spirit stretching to the medium of sound. It was just too perfect that Parthiva was yet holding her hand. "You've always been an arrogant fool, Parthiva," she spoke, mind to mind, to a Samagraha for the very first time. All thanks to the fire spirits. "Did your mother ever tell you that? Or has she been busy pandering to your desires since you're such an ideal gutless unruly wonder?"
A spasm of shock ran over his face, eyes staring about him in confusion. Flames shot out of his hands and they gave each other a parting shove, both staggering a bit back.
Boom! There was a spontaneous explosion. The fire sprang up to its utmost ferocity. The chants resonated clearly and thunderously. The ear-splitting volume of chant rocked the amphitheater. Windows shattered. There were shuddering sounds as though the stone walls and floor had cracked open. Fear overloaded. Screams and cries filled in the amphitheater. The urn began to shake. There were tremendous beats of the drum and sounds of rattling. A gentle thump at the beginning, then the thumping got stronger and stronger. Parthiva and Haima rushed out of the fiery fire through the exit ever so quickly.
The members of the Panchayat stood scattered across the foot of the urn. They were unafraid, unlike the audience, utterly involved in staring up, mouth-gaped, at the top of the swirling fire. Anticipation was high, and tension amidst them was even higher. The result had to live up to expectations, or else the country would land into the hands of Haimavati Roksana. The woman from the slums was also a presumed murderer of those thousands of people. Perhaps now they may know that in reality, the murders had happened in the process of creating Yajna.
The chanting finally came to peace and so did the unnatural thumping. Despite the strangled sound of the screaming audience, an odd silence enveloped members of the Panchayat. Lady Chandrika appeared from across the raging fire, avoiding making eye contact with Haima and wiping her forehead. That's right, something did go wrong Milady, Haima thought. For a wizened old woman, she was quick on the uptake.
A swift gale of wind blasted from the top of the Yajna. Hot air blew directly to their faces. Then in the moment of shocking clarity, a sound boomed- Aimm heeere! the voice swirled and stirred like the waves of a sea. A chain of daunting sparkles began to fall like brightly-hued snowflakes, eddying around them.
"Oh my!" Haima said dramatically, cupping her hands against her mouth. "What, in the name of Vrindahina, was that!"
"Yajna created an invisible being," one of the Panchayat's members said, voice full of fury. An oldest, most experienced, and most respected, the late High King's advisor gave her the confirmation she badly needed. "It took years to get rid of every one of them and now..."
"Wait!" Lady Chandrika said eyes flickering, while Parthiva's face went pale with shock. "There must be a mistake."
Before Lady Chandrika could sweet talk her way out of trouble, Haima stepped towards the advisor and said, "Lady Chandrika is right. It's the Fire Spirits who tricked us. She is not to be blamed. But I am sure that the invisible being is going to stay dormant and may not cause any problems to the citizens."
"Fire spirits created him?" said the other member of Panchayat, aghast. They picked the point she wanted to make. Good. "Then there's no surety that they'll act in good faith."
Haima blinked, feeling a prickle of sinking sensation in her gut. No, he is not dangerous. The invisible being was created only remains a loophole in the great invention. No threat shall be caused to the country with its existence. The members around her had come to different conclusions though. How was she going to give the Panchayat that reassurance without letting them know the truth? So much for a covert operation.
To pull such a stunt was a decision made in the eleventh hour. She had spent the entire previous night basking in dark magic and barely made time to think things through. However, in the given time that was all she could do- let the members know that a loophole was created. How much of Yajna was successful or how much of her fate was changed she wouldn't know, but as long as the invisible person was alive, she would not be immortal and Cornelian User will not have power over her.
"Lady Chandrika," said the advisor. "You've assured us that Yajna is safe and will do no harm to all those with health and future. This kind of misguidance will cost you plenty in the long run."
Lady Chandrika bent her head down. "This is a conspiracy against me. I will provide you with sound evidence. I request you to give me another chance. I'll fix it."
"You had your chance to win the fair fight," he said, "Yajna was supposed to protect humans, to keep them safe from the likes of Almourah and Kshaturya. The natural order was meant to restore by concealing normal humans without having to stay hidden. That was what we were promised. But what happened today is preposterous."
"Yajna is not a complete failure," said Lady Chandrika. "It could still render people invisible and assure safety."
"Not with the monster you've created today!"
This was the chance and Haima relished in it. "It seems like you've come to a conclusion, haven't you, Sir? According to the contract the country is supposed to get its First High Queen today. I suppose you do not wish to go back on your words."
Lady Chandrika stood with her shoulders sagged, a deep-rooted fear of losing the battle clear on her long sunken face.
"Panchayat never does that," he growled. He looked back at the other members, exchanged a few words, and sought their nod before saying. "Haimavati Roksana, do you solemnly promise to govern the citizens of Paramarashtra according to the respective laws and customs?"
The smile, full of happiness and relief, spread on her face. "I do."
"Will you regulate all the laws rightfully in all your judgments?"
"I will."
A member passed on the scepter to the advisor, who then held it respectfully with both his hands and bequeathed it to her. "Then by the sacred power vested in us, we pronounce you, Haimavati Roksana, the High Queen of Paramarashtra."
A surge of disapproving roars ran across the audience. Haima, for once, did not care. In fact, she celebrated with herself, her heart bursting with life in the joy of the moment. The royal specter, that once had belonged to her late husband, was in her hands now. She wallowed in the luxury of holding it, affectionally cradling it in her hand. It wasn't that she won it over Lady Chandrika, since the scepter truly and genuinely had always belonged to her, even during all those years when her husband had been barely living a life of a patient. Her eyes searched for Parthiva who had walked away and collapsed on his knees, head bent down and shoulders shaking as if carrying a weight of desperate helplessness. He was brooding. Good.
Lady Chandrika, on the other hand, was standing there still with her head hung down and lost in her own thoughts. Deep angry wrinkles marred her face. You should have accepted my gracious offer, Milady, or my request to consider a quiet wedding with only the members of Panchayat as guests. You could have been at least saved from exposing yourself to humiliation and embarrassment in front of the entire country.
Haima then added the words only to rankle her master a little bit more. "Thank you, Sir. Pleasure, that you finally came around. Specter must be feeling right at home."
The members bowed a little as if apologizing for their past behavior. Haima continued, "I will wait for the time when that invisible being is destroyed and pledge to enter into a whole alliance with the Cornelian User." Parthiva shot a glance back at her. She ignored it. "Moreover, in order to restore peace between Lady Chandrika and me, I have come up with a new proposal that I would like to share with you right here, right now."
The members looked up in puzzlement, and so did Lady Chandrika. "If it is meant for peace, we would like to listen, Your Majesty," said a member.
Those two words had such a soothing, feathery smooth effect on her skin. The feel of officially gaining the highest royalty title. She hadn't felt this way in months, years maybe. Everything in the past now seemed like a blur. She peered up at the pink evening sky and thanked the deity.
"Lady Chandrika does not deserve any kind of insolence for her today's failed act," she said. "Yajna is an incredible invention, which can indeed save many lives if used for the right reasons. We are all working for the betterment of the same country. And hard work put in for such great inventions must not go unrewarded. Therefore, I would like to request Lady Chandrika to join me, as my second in command, and fight against the social and political injustice."
The members shared a shocked glance with each other. Haima understood their concern.
With a swaggering gallant, she walked towards the Great Throne and made herself comfortable. The sensual delight of owning the entire country gave her the authority to instantly assume command. She smiled noticing Lady Chandrika who was yet staring hopelessly at the ground. A hope ignited. This new idea of hers may rekindle her friendship with her master, or at least none the worse could happen for the decision she'd made.
"Rewrite the Shreni System," she commanded. "The Diamond users and Samagraha shall assist the Supreme Ruler of the country from now on and forever. This is my country, my land, and as long as my rules are abided by, I'll make sure that everything is done above board and fair. All hail Paramarashtra."
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