Chapter 6 — Foiled plans
Year 4800, Satyayuga
6063 years before present day
“Vakrā!” said Malāsura, leaning back against the rock, making sure to be not seen. “Ever do their torches draw closer. What recourse do you propose?”
Vakrāsura shook his head, his fanged teeth bared. “None that end well for us, brother.” He coughed up blood, and spat on the dry ground. His large bare chest trickled blood from multiple wounds. A large welt on his forehead throbbed. “Narukša is certain to find us. This is surely the very end for us, Malā.”
“No! This is no time to give up! We have much to accomplish. This is no end.” Malāsura said through clenched teeth. He carefully glanced again over the large rock that offered them refuge. Narukša and his demons were peering down from the cliff edge, their flaming brands glowing brightly. Two of them jumped down the gorge, unwilling to give up their relentless search. Narukša remained at the top, an ominous silhouette against the steely Pātalā sky.
Malāsura sat back down. “Listen to me, Vakrā. You are hurt, and I am not. I shall draw them to me, you escape while I divert their eyes. Take this boy with you, follow this ravine to where ever it might lead. Keep him from these covetous fiends.”
Vakrāsura coughed again. “One cannot elude Narukša, you fool. He is the right hand of Yamā himself. There is no refuge in all the fourteen lokās.” He smiled wryly. “Not even in death can you escape Narukša.” He tried to laugh, but only coughed more blood.
“Quiet, they might hear us!” Malāsura put his hand up, and looked around. The gorge was narrow, but it meandered into the dark for a great length in either direction. “Harken, brother. I shall hold here these dogs of Yamā as long as I can. Make well your escape, do not stop, go as long as your legs can take you. Remember—our Lord Daityēsha must be avenged!”
Vakrāsura looked up at the mention of Daityēsha. He took a deep breath, and a strange light seemed to burn from the depths of his eyes. He brushed his stringy hair from his face. He grabbed the unmoving body of the boy, and draped him over his shoulder. His voice now sounded resolute. “Kill them, Malā. Kill them all.” He clutched Malāsura’s shoulder, and with a final nod, the asurā limped away into the gloom.
“Farewell, dear brother.” Malāsura whispered after the retreating figure. He then turned and ventured a glance over the rock again. The flaming torches were still some distance away, but it would not be long before they found him. Three more of Narukša’s rākshasas had jumped into the ravine, their torches held high, their yellow eyes peering in the darkness. Malāsura took a deep breath, and placed both his hands on the rock that gave him shelter. With a thunderous crack, it lifted from the ground, and flew through the air to land on the five rākshasas. They were crushed instantly. The rock tipped over, teetered for a moment, and thudded onto the cliff wall, and stood at an angle.
Malāsura darted between the boulders. He found one large enough to take shelter behind, and crouched, listening. But far above on the cliff edge, Narukša had noticed him. In an instant, Narukša was on the floor of the narrow ravine. “I see you, Malāsura. These puny rocks will help you none.” He snapped his fingers, and the large boulder turned to dust.
Malāsura waited for the cloud to settle, and slowly stood up. “Your reputation is well deserved indeed, Narukša. I thought you the dog of Yamā, but you have chosen to follow me instead across the realms.”
Narukša leered, his arms crossed across his chest. “Rather, a hound. A hound to hunt swine like you.” He glanced up at the cliff, and a few more rākshasas jumped down behind him, torches ablaze.
Malāsura warily eyed the group before him. The rākshasas slowly advanced, and stopped just behind Narukša, and awaited orders. They were shorter than the towering aide of Yamā, but faces just as sinister. They snarled, their misshapen teeth glinting the torchlight. Two of them stepped ahead, eager to prove themselves to Narukša. “Shall we get him, Master?” one of them urged, not taking its eyes off Malāsura.
“You are mine, Malāsura.” Narukša said. “There is no escape.” He leaned forward, derision writ large on his face. Malāsura felt a vice-like grip grasp him, and could not move anymore. Narukša held him with a spell. “I have chased you across the upper and lower lokās, and here we are, so very close to home. Tell me, where is the boy? And where is your loathsome brother?”
Malāsura smiled inwardly, but displayed none of the relief. He narrowed his brows for a moment, and then laughed. “You inept dullard! You bear me good news! So Vakrā did escape! He indeed did slip your clutches on Atalā!” Malāsura guffawed. “Vakrā eludes you and your filthy mongrels!”
A shadow of confusion veiled Narukša’s face for a moment, but it passed quickly, replaced by rage. “It shall not be long before I have him, you rat!” He turned to the rākshasas behind him. “Bring up this foul creature!” He vanished, and reappeared at the cliff top an instant later.
The demons needed no more motivation. Six of them pounced on the now immobile Malāsura, and their long claws tore through his skin. Malāsura winced, and tried to fight back. He struggled, trying to break free, but it was fruitless, he could not budge. They flew him up through the gorge, and dropped him forcibly on the ground at the edge of the cliff. The demons remained around him, growling and snapping. “Let us eat him, master! We haven’t had fresh meat for a while. This one is plump and juicy.”
Narukša turned to one of the larger rākshasas. “Take your group back to Atalaloka. Retrace our steps, some crevice might still hide Vakrāsura. I want him found, Krūra—or it is your head I shall have!”
Krūra bowed. He gestured to the demons standing around, and four of them disappeared into the darkness.
“You have no hope of finding my brother, you dim-witted oafs!” Malāsura called after them, and laughed aloud.
“Quiet!” Narukša struck Malāsura across the head. Malāsura fell, sprawling in the dusty ground. He sat up, and spat blood on the ground. “You will never find him, Narukša. Vakrā, you would find him a challenge to track.”
“Never you worry.” Narukša gritted his wolfish teeth. He gestured at the rākshasas behind Malāsura, and they parted, and three yamadūtas hobbled into the circle, looking apprehensively at Narukša and the demons around them. They were much smaller in stature than the rākshasas, almost puny in comparison. The rākshasas sneered with disdain at the yamadūtas.
“Take Malāsura to Narakā, and chain him in the lower dungeons, and prepare the fire pit. Distance this rat from the other souls.”
The yamadūtas stared blankly at Narukša, and then at each other. One of them spoke up, almost kneeling before Narukša. “Si—sire, he lives still!”
Narukša glared at the tiny yamadūta before him. The yamadūta ventured a glance up at Narukša, but quickly lowered its head. “To bring someone alive to the Narakā dungeons—it would be a most terrible sin, my Lord!”
Narukša grabbed the grovelling yamadūta by its thin neck, and lifted it off the ground, and brought its face close to his. The yamadūta kicked about, its gasping for breath. “Talk not of sin to me, you worm! I will have you thrown into the pits of Narakā along with this swine—follow mine orders, not question them!” Narukša gnashed his teeth, and flung the yamadūta down on the rough ground. It rolled in the dust, coughing and sputtering, and the rākshasas laughed. One of them kicked the yamadūta, and it screeched in pain. The other yamadūtas quickly came to its aid, and helped it up, and they then gathered around Malāsura, and exchanged uneasy glances amongst themselves.
Malāsura remained calm. I can escape these weakly yamadūtas, they present me no hurdle. He stayed on the ground, head lowered, appearing defeated. Narukša is thwarted, at least for the moment. That should give Vakrā some time to flee to safety. And the boy remains in our hands.
“Get this rat out of my sight!” Narukša said, and the yamadūtas hesitantly grabbed a limb each. They winced—it hurt yamadūtas to lay their hands on a live being.
One of the yamadūtas produced a loop of black leather, and they bound Malāsura quickly with it, tying his arms behind him. They then bound his feet, while Narukša watched, his red eyes glowing with impatience. One of them pulled on the knots, making sure they held fast. Satisfied, they grasped Malāsura’s limbs again, and sat him up straight, preparing to haul their prisoner to Narakā.
“Wait.” Narukša put his hand up, frowning. He snapped his clawed fingers, and Malāsura’s head lulled, and fell into a deep stupor, unconscious.
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