The Secret
Part Seven — The Second Secret
The army of Trigarta had expected an easy victory.
Durjaya had abducted Sulochana and Kumudvati. The commanders of Trigarta believed that half of Chaturaka’s plan had already succeeded. They imagined that Panchanada and Trigangeya would each fall into confusion, that both kingdoms would lose their leadership, and that the banner of Trigarta would rise over both frontiers.
But the battlefield cast their expectations into the fire.
At the borders of Trigangeya, the earth trembled first.
The chariot division of Trigarta, advancing beneath black serpent banners, came to an abrupt halt. Before them, as though emerging from dispersing mist, stood twenty giants—the Alchemy-Perfected Warriors created through Gunasagara’s science of alchemy.
Each stood nearly twenty feet tall.
Their shoulders resembled fortress walls.
In their hands were clubs, massive axes, and iron staffs.
Yet there was no cruelty upon their faces.
Only the calm of disciplined warfare.
When they took their first step, the horses of Trigarta recoiled.
With the second, the wheels of the chariots tilted.
By the third moment, fear was already racing through the enemy ranks.
At the same time, the remaining twenty Alchemy-Perfected Warriors stood like living mountains along the borders of Panchanada.
At first, the soldiers of Panchanada stared at them in astonishment.
Then they remembered Sharabhanga’s secret message.
The giants did not immediately fall upon the enemy.
First, they formed a wall of protection.
Then they separated the invading divisions one by one, forced them to lay down their weapons, and transformed what might have become bloodshed into victory.
Gunasagara’s knowledge had not given strength to anger.
It had given strength to dharma.
Before sunset, the army of Trigarta had been decisively defeated on both fronts.
But the heart of the war still lay within the capital of Trigarta.
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The wedding pavilion of Trigarta was adorned with serpent emblems.
Blood-red cloth.
Black flowers.
Lamps lit for a forced and false auspiciousness.
A sacred fire burned in the centre of the pavilion.
Armed guards surrounded it.
On one side stood Kumudvati in bonds.
On the other, Sulochana drifted between consciousness and darkness, still struggling against the force of enchantment.
Durjaya stood dressed as a groom.
The news from the battlefield had not yet reached his face.
Or perhaps it had, and his arrogance refused to admit it.
“The honour of two kingdoms will bow before this fire,” he declared.
Kumudvati looked at him.
“Honour does not bow, Durjaya. Even when it falls into the hands of the weak, it remains standing within.”
Durjaya laughed.
“You will understand that after the wedding.”
The priests were about to begin their chants when—
Sulochana’s eyes opened fully.
First, she looked at the bonds around her hands.
Then at the pavilion.
The sacred fire.
Durjaya.
Kumudvati.
For a moment, exhaustion crossed her face.
Then came flame.
Her eyes fell upon the sword held by the guard standing beside her.
The guard believed her to be weak.
That was his mistake.
A movement of one finger.
A turn of the wrist.
A single step.
The sword left the guard’s hand and entered Sulochana’s. (To Be Continued)
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