Page 51 of The Burning Mountain
Heart in her mouth, she saw him carefully pluck the nest just in the nick of time before the wind blew it off. But now he was trapped there.
“Please help him,” she pleaded, turning to the ladies, her voice cracking. “He is just a boy.”
“He is a wizard. And you should have controlled him better,” said Leelaveni, frowning.
“He is still a boy, though,” she said, glaring at each one in turn.
Some of them seemed conflicted and spoke in whispers. “Maybe we should call for the guards. She is after all the queen of Rajgarh and a guest here.”
But none were willing to defy the queen of Sanchi, who maintained a dignified silence and averted her face.
Archana Devi realized with a sinking heart that she couldn’t wait for them to decide whether to help. She tucked one end of her saree at her waist, freed up her legs by draping her saree another way, then cautiously lowered herself from the edge of the cliff. Her maid was begging, practically crying, to not attempt the foolhardy attempt to save her son, but Archana Devi turned a deaf ear to her pleas, grimly instructing her to get a rope.
The rocks dug into her fingers as she made her careful way down, testing each outcropping before putting her weight on it. Her knuckles scraped against the sharp, jutting edges of stone, turning red as the skin opened in shallow wounds.
Wind buffeted her, threatening to blow her off. The boughs creaked, and she gingerly let one of the sturdy branches hold her weight. Veer crawled toward her; the nest held safely in his hands.
Every creak of wood, every gust of wind, made her heart pound with dread. She tried valiantly to keep her gaze from wandering down, where she imagined the green tops of the trees were waving in the wind. The fall would be long and painful. And fatal. A thin film of perspiration broke out over her upper lip and temples, and her palms turned clammy.
They needed to move before the entire tree uprooted, plunging them to their deaths. With shaky hands, she wiped her bleeding knuckles and tore a strip from her saree, wrapping it around them for protection. Then they moved again, carefully testing the rocky footholds the same way they had come. She had to carry Veer on her back, his legs and one arm draped around her like a monkey, since he refused to let go of the nest.
Her foot slipped suddenly, and she lodged her hand into a long, narrow gap between two rock holds. Her heart raced, as if galloping out of her chest. She didn’t hear the scream leave her throat, but the echoes bounced back to her, full of raw fear. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she held on. Her arm felt like it was tearing itself slowly from her shoulder. She prayed to all the gods she knew.
As if some benevolent god heard it, a rope came down. Her maid must have come through. Archana Devi thought for a moment and then spoke. “Veer. Grab the rope. You need to go up.”
“I’m not leaving you, Ma.” The waver in his voice told her how afraid he was.
“You’re not leaving me.” Archana tried to infuse some confidence into her voice, angling back to peer at his face. “Use the rope to climb up and get help.”
Veer’s lower lip wobbled, but he gave a determined nod and grabbed the rope, the nest still in his hands. She spotted her maid’s pale face over the wall as she pulled on the rope. The mother pigeon hovered around them, but she didn’t impede their progress.
Her locked lungs let a breath in only when his body disappeared above the edge.
More rope came down and she could see the faces of guards peering down from the edge. She grabbed hold of one and was hoisted up.
When she climbed over the wall, she found Veer perched dangerously close to the edge—as if watching for her. The nest was in his lap and the mother pigeon was cooing to its hatchlings. A scrape across his cheek and tear tracks along his dusty cheeks were the only evidence of their recent misadventure.
She stared down at her hands that were covered in blood, slowly unwrapping the bloodied cloth around her knuckles. Her skin had sheared off quite a bit and the gaping wound throbbed fiercely, but she still thanked her lucky stars, as she sat there on trembly legs waiting for husband to get there.
Archana Devi flexedher stiff fingers, her mind back in the present, rubbing the raised edges of the long-healed wounds along her knuckles. She carried the scars of that day and managed to cover the worst of the physical injuries by wearing numerous rings, but harder to hide were the mental ones. She had acquired a fear of heights, a difficult thing to conceal since their palaces were built in the mountains, but as long as shestayed well away from the edge and kept her gaze from slithering down, she did well.
That one incident changed the course of their kingdom. Something had shifted in her husband when he came to know what had happened. He had left, swearing vengeance on all who had insulted her and put his family in danger, even those who offered no help. That was the starting point when he decided to go on a rampage, solidifying his power in the north, a planned series of skirmishes, leading to war, until he finally decided to do therajasuya yagna, a ritual that declared him the emperor of Saptavarsha. Which, in turn, had led to the confrontation with Amaravathi.
Veer didn’t escape unscathed, either. Her husband, for the first time in their marriage, refused to hear her pleas and dragged Veer off to train in Vivismati, under King Pourava.
Veer was four and she had watched helpless as his eyes brimmed with questions about why he was being sent away, not really understanding the extent of danger his impulsiveness had put them in. But the abrupt departure left a mark on him, culminating in a certain reserve in his relationship with his father. Something she knew, Bheesmala regretted over the years. It was a splinter really, too small to bother about, but sharp enough to make its presence known at times.
For the longest time she had been afraid for Veer; that his propensity to bond with animals was interfering with his human relationships. He had a sharp brain and could understand logical concepts without much difficulty. But things that dealt with nuances and abstract notions were lost to his rational brain. In his reasoning, he applied the same judgment to both humans and animals.
Virat’s companionship, and later Vihari’s presence during his time away from home had, seemingly, solved that issue and they had seen Veer come out of his shell more. Interact more.
As for her, that incident brought home to her how much magic users were tarred with the brush of prejudice. Her husband, brothers, and cousins were all blessed with magic. It was considered a gift from God and revered in their clans. But others looked at it with suspicion.
She couldn’t always be there to protect Veer or Vireni. She didn’t have magic, but she had brains, and she used them to protect her family.
The spy network she had established from scratch was still up and functioning, bringing her news from far and wide. She chose her agents with great care, trained them herself, and tested them for loyalty. Shota was one of her rare finds, and she was proud of how he served their kingdom.
And yet, despite all that care, how had Virat slipped through? How could they not have known?
