Warriors of Dandaka : Kaand II "War Drums" Chapter Three

Pushpak Karnick

16 July 2008, 04:11

“The Age of Magic …” the Pisaca drummed its legs slowly on the sides of its seat. “The Age of Magic … is … over.” It spoke slowly, weighing every word, pausing frequently in between words to choose the next one. “This,” a wave of one of eight spindly arms indicated, “is the … beginning.” Another long pause, and it spoke. “The beginning … of … The Age … of … the Earth.”

As if on cue, the room shuddered, and Mandodari cast a hasty glance around her as the echoes of the latest subterranean disturbance died in the distance.

The Pisaca then settled back into his seat, a hemispherical cocoon of earth and clay bound together with an gooey substance that reeked faintly of spent seed. Several moments passed before she realized that he (she assumed it was a male sitting in front of her) was waiting for her to speak.

“You say that Magic is past,” she started confidently. “But here I am, in the physical aspect of my being, and yet not so. Can you deny it?” Mandodari knew that a upper hand during the earlier stages of negotiation would get her the advantage later.

The Pisaca erupted with a shrill cackle that was obviously amused laughter.

“Magic?” It took longer to say the next words, still recovering from the bout of laughter.

“This is … not magic… Not the ‘real’ magic … Only tricks,” it focused each of its hundred eyes on the “image” in his presence. “Only tricks for little children… Dark … dangerous magic … Only Ravana!!” Mandodari was surprised at the fervor this insect displayed at her husband’s name. “Only Ravana had real magic.”

She felt the hundred eyes darken and dull as the king of the Pisacas settled down again. This was the last of her visits to the chiefs of each individual species in Lanka, to end the constant infighting and bloodshed that had considerably weakened the Asura population. In each case, a shrewd display of magic had helped her intimidate the leader, and press forward for their return under the united banner of the Lankan forces. The Pisaca, however, seemed far from impressed with the display of her talents.

“You speak the truth, wise king,” Mandodari changed her tactics. “But alas, my comatose husband is no longer in the position to display the real magic. And as a result, Lanka is about to be torn into pieces by selfish Asuras who cannot see beyond their own needs.”

The Pisaca sat silent for a long time. “Hmmmmm,” it spoke, in a half-squeak. “This is true … very … true … Ravana… protected us … fed us!! A new … man … every day!” The Pisaca’s eyes grayed over with the reminiscence of the golden days.

“Now!! We hunt … scavenge … fight … with others … and even then … starve!” the Pisaca was now visibly excited. Mandodari noticed several of its eyes light up with a strange green glow, as if some unseen force had been awakened inside the old King.

“What … you … say is … true. True … How can we help? Pisacas … huh … not respected … by others. Not … one … with others…”

“Oh mighty King,” began Mandodari, “it may have been so in the past. But today, things are different. Lanka rules under the white banner of the House of Mayasura, where every citizen who is faithful, shall be considered an equal. I have already spoken to the others. They have agreed to lay aside differences …”

“For the … time being,” the Pisaca interrupted her. “Only for some time. Later … yes … later … they will return. Lanka will … return! To the old ways … of Ravana!”

“They will … only if the void left by Ravana’s absence is not filled by someone equally powerful.” Mandodari tilted her neck slightly, to emphasize the unspoken.

The Pisaca sat unmoving for a while, his eight limbs in constant motion. Mandodari had observed him enough to know that this was how he thought over things. The entire body at rest, only the limbs moving about in arcane patterns as though trying to solve a complex mathematical puzzle. It reminded her of an insect lying on its back, waving its limbs desperately to flip over. Though the thought was amusing, she maintained a serious expression.

The Pisaca ceased his motions after a long time while Mandodari waited patiently for him to speak. The silence was periodically punctuated by the tremors that shook the king’s cave and brought down a shower of dust and pebbles into the room. Mandodari was wondering over the cause of this disturbance when the king spoke.

“You wish … our support … to claim the throne … of Lanka?”

The reply infuriated Mandodari, but she maintained a her countenance. She wondered how the Pisacas had survived so far with such a feeble intellect. The king had spent an enormous amount of time to reach a conclusion that would have taken an eight year old child mere seconds. She forced herself a smile and replied, “Wise King, I do not wish to claim or usurp the throne of Lanka. Lanka has been ruled by the House of Pulastya since time immemorial. I would only like to be its … steward,” she chose her words carefully, “while my dear husband can recover from his comatose condition.”

“Then … why not … Vibhishana? … Ravana’s brother?”

Aah, Mandodari understood the game the Pisaca was playing. Beginning with seemingly innocuous questions, he wanted to exploit the tiniest chink in her armor, in a manner of speaking.

“You know as well as the entire population of Lanka,” Mandodari sighed and continued, “Vibhishana is a spineless, human-loving Asura who will never be what his brother was … is. In these testing times, I do not think that Ravana himself would have trusted his brother to carry out the task of governing Lanka. My sons, unfortunately, surpass their father only in their debauchery and giving Lanka to either one of them would only hasten its end. And so,” she looked straight at the Pisaca, “it has fallen on my shoulders to rebuild Lanka to its former glory and present it to my Lord when he awakens from his current state.”

The Pisaca sat unmoving throughout this exchange. A couple of his limbs twitched while he heard Mandodari’s reply, but she could sense that he was somehow studying her very minutely. I had underestimated him, but no more, she thought as he resumed his thinking posture.

After another ghatika or so, the Pisaca finally spoke.

“We have thought … together … and we think … we will support … you … to bring peace … to Lanka … for us … for Ravana!! Now go … go … we have … to sleep … long sleep.”

The “image” in front of the Pisaca flickered a bit before it faded off into the dull air. In her room, Mandodari stood up from her lotus-position on the floor. The meeting had drained almost all of her strength. She took a moment to pause before her mirror and looked directly into the eyes of her reflection. They were gleaming with a fierce desire that she knew all too well. Her first task was done. The fish had taken the bait.

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