Page 47 of The Burning Mountain
“You lost thespatika linga?” asked the wizard dryly, with the faintest hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “Tell me, didn’t you go to considerable trouble to get it in the first place? How can you so carelessly misplace it?” He peered up at him after a while and asked him shrewdly. “Are yousureyou lost thespatika lingaand it wasn’t stolen by this person?”
Ketuvahana didn’t acknowledge the wizard’s suspicion, although the same thought occurred to him.
“Such a pity. I would’ve liked to meet him,” said the wizard, getting up, as if to leave.
“Where’re you going?” asked Ketuvahana in alarmed surprise. “I still need you. You have to find the whereabouts of this man and then verify whether Queen Gauri Devi has died. We also need to find evidence that we can present to the public that Aditya is really dead. The queen’s little stunt caused the public to doubt our word.”
“We?” The wizard laughed. Ketuvahana watched the wizard dissolve into hysterics and thought his reaction was oddly disproportionate and somehowwrongin a way that made the hairs lift along his forearm.
“Why should I do that?” said the wizard, his mirth dying abruptly. “I actually had a use for Aditya, but now that he’s dead, I’m hard-pressed to find a reason to assist you with your pettyproblems. The only reason I helped you was because our goals were aligned.”
He suddenly cocked his head and became still. “Someone’s here,” said the wizard quietly, retreating to the shadows.
The sound of rain increased momentarily as the cloth over the window parted, and a man slipped inside. Ketuvahana felt an unnatural silence settle into the room, like a thick blanket draped over, cutting off their contact from the outside world.
What the hell were his guards doing? Sleeping on the job?
Ketuvahana unsheathed his sword as the man straightened. Rain plastered his hair to his face and ran down in rivulets over his tawny skin. But there was no mistaking his raptor eyes.
“You! How dare you come back to show your face? Do you have a death wish? Don’t you know who I am?” said Ketuvahana. “Guards, arrest this man.”
No one came.
“What is going on?” said Ketuvahana, taken aback. “Guards?” he called again, a hint of trepidation in his voice.
The man registered the wizard’s presence and shifted his attention to him. Maayavi raised his arms, palms up in surrender. “He’s all yours,” he said. “I won’t interfere.”
Ketuvahana’s face blanched at hearing his words. He had thought the wizard was the most powerful man he had met and now he was shying away from a fight. When he had easy prey within sight.
“Maayavi, what are you doing?” he hissed. “Imprison this man. He is the one I was talking about. The one who impersonated you and escaped from the dungeons.”
Maayavi turned his pitiless gaze on him. “You’re a fool, Ketuvahana. You don’t know who you’re speaking to.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t follow.” Ketuvahana looked between the two of them. “Just who are you?” he asked, squinting up at the drenched man.
“I’m the husband of the woman you’ve tortured,” he said, circling him, water dripping on the floor. “What’s the matter, Ketuvahana? Can’t remember who among the countless I belong to? Tell me, what’s your favorite method of punishment? After all, I heard you’re an authority on the subject.”
Ketuvahana’s brief confusion about this man’s identity got buried under anger. He bared his teeth and rushed at him, sword at the ready. The man danced out of his way and drew one of the swords hanging on the wall.
Ketuvahana was well known for prowess on the battlefield—the axe his chosen weapon, but he was fairly well trained with the sword too.
But surprisingly, today he felt more tired than usual, his parries too weak, falling short of his intended goal. Sweat beaded on his brow. His heart pounded in his chest, and at the corners of his vision, he could feel shadows encroaching. He almost swore he heard the sibilant hiss of snakes, but he dismissed it as his imagination.
“Not very comfortable, is it? To fight with poison in your system?” said the man with a savage grin as he shoved him away. “Was it your idea to injure the innocent people of the temple city with poisoned arrows?”
Ketuvahana stood heaving to one side and clutched his chest as a sharp heavy pain cut off the breath from his lungs. He eyed the windows through which the man came—he was still blocking them. The exit to the rooms was behind him, and he didn’t fancy turning his back on this dangerous man. His guards didn’t appear to be responding. Maayavi refused to help. Which meant his only option was to continue fighting.
The man watched Ketuvahana’s efforts with an amused expression, but those hunter eyes held no pity.
“Poison?” Ketuvahana leaned on his sword, huffing. The ache was getting worse. His throat thickened and despite his lungsworking hard, he couldn’t seem to draw in enough air. Shadows leaped to life from all corners of the room and approached him. The hiss of snakes was loud and unmistakable in his ears now.
“How did you poison me?” he croaked out. “I drank nothing all evening.”
The man took thenagamaniout from his pocket. A poisonous vapor rose from it. “Took me a while, but I was able to separate thenagamanifrom thespatika linga,” he said deceptively casual. “Thanks to a certain someone’s help.” He raised his left hand.
Ketuvahana blinked. Was that a red glow enveloping this man’s hand? But then he blinked again, and it disappeared.
The air filled with the hiss of invisible snakes. The green jewel of thenagamaniglowed, as if lit from within. Ketuvahana fell to the floor, unable to take his eyes off the jewel. Snakes were conjured out of thin air, rapidly multiplying, writhing on the floor, climbing up his legs, biting the hands he put up to protect himself.
