Vedic Warriors Page 4

  “This festival has been organized for you, my sons! For the strong-hearted ones! It is my honour to give you this tournament. Enjoy to your fullest; watch blood getting spilled, enjoy the most beautiful women and have the best wine. But, what is the greatest excitement for a lion? HUNTING! And my lions, our hunt is waiting for us. After this tournament, after this entertainment is through, we will not sit quietly. We will fight, we will fight for our right to rule this world. We will hunt down the seven remaining Kingdoms and will bathe in their blood.

  “My sons! For you, I hereby order the games to commence. Let the Tournament begin!”

  As he finished speaking, the arena doors opened. The creaky sound of the door echoed in the stadium.

  For the first few seconds, there was silence. Then, a sound surrounded the stadium. It was the sound of thunder, of horses, of a chariot; of a legend, Jairudh.

  The moment he appeared in the ring, people began cheering and shouting with excitement.

  Jairudh stood in a chariot, holding his bow in his left hand. His face was tilted towards the sky. His posture showed pride, excitement and conscientiousness. This was his first public appearance.

  He was sure of his archery skills, but at the same time, he felt nervous at the sight of so many spectators. However, he also seemed to enjoy this feeling and the spotlight he was under. His chariot was pulled by four white coloured horses driven by an able charioteer. Jairudh wore a silver armour and a metallic headband. His charioteer and horses were also armoured. The chariot kept moving in circles until the charioteer stopped in the middle of the arena.

  The halt was accompanied by the announcer’s introductions.

  “Meet Jairudh, from the state of Helzer! He is an ace archer and is believed to be one of the best in the world. But is he really good, or his skills are mere rumours? Let us see, as he faces the man who people say invented archery; the one who has defeated gods themselves. Our pride! The great one! APYKARYCHHHHH!!!”

  As he said this, the other door opened and from within appeared Apykarych riding on a golden chariot pulled by four white horses, all garbed in golden armour. Like Jairudh, this man too held his bow in his left hand and kept all his arrows in a bunch on his back inside a quiver.

  Apykarych had received all his knowledge of weapons from the late Master ‘Antipater’. Antipater, in his life had trained only two students. One of them was Apykarych and the other was Nahsirk, who in turn had trained Jairudh in archery and the use of other weapons.

  Though in his early sixties, the marvel did not look old or fragile. He was the embodiment of determination and power; tall with broad shoulders and a strong body. He had not lost any of his skills with age and was capable of fighting with the same vigour of youth. He was no ordinary man and was virtually undefeatable.

  As he rode around in the ring, Jairudh’s unblinking eyes kept following him. He looked ready to tear Apykarych apart. After encircling the arena thrice, Apykarych’s charioteer stopped in the middle of the ring, parallel to Jairudh’s chariot.

  The rules of the duel were then announced.

  It was not supposed to be a bloody match, which meant that the warriors were not supposed to kill each other. In order to win; they were required to capture the other. The rules were intentionally issued for this match, as Shreshtaha wanted neither Apykarych, nor his favourite Jairudh to be grievously injured.

  And then the duel started.

  The two archers assessed each other and then moved their chariots away from each other. They stopped and turned their chariots to face each other, then took their arrows out and placed them over their respective bows, aiming at each other.

  This was a tense moment as both waited for the signal. Then, after a few tense moments, the siren was blown.

  And it started in a flash; two arrows collided in mid-air. But as soon as they collided, two more were fired by both sides. Jairudh and Apykarych were shooting like machines, constantly firing arrows at each other.

  This continued for about ten minutes, after which they started using divine arrows.

  Arrows which could be converted into multiple arrows, explosive arrows, electrically charged arrows; all of them were fired at each other only to collide in mid-air. Both were equally matched.

  But the constant was about to change, as suddenly, Jairudh, who was about to fire a divine arrow tripped because of a sudden sharp turn by his charioteer. It made him miss his target completely and the arrow went up towards the sky. There was silence in the arena at this catastrophe.

  As the arrow flew upwards, Apykarych wasted no time and fired an arrow at Jairudh’s bow and broke it in two. Jairudh immediately picked up a spear and threw it at his opponent. Apykarych countered the attack and ripped the spear into two, mid-air.

  Jairudh then threw another spear, and another; but they were both cut in mid-air.

  Jairudh was now defenceless and this made Apykarych smile. He mounted another arrow to break the wheel of Jairudh’s chariot.

  He was about to fire when the unthinkable happened.

  The arrow that had supposedly missed Apykarych and had gone up towards the sky came speeding back down and struck Apykarych’s bow, breaking it into two. This special arrow was intentionally fired towards the sky by Jairudh; it was a special divine arrow and had been fired to create deception.

  As soon as this happened; Jairudh picked up another bow, deliberately concealed earlier and started firing arrows after arrows to cut Apykarych’s substitute bows, spears and other weapons until Apykarych ran out of stock.

  Soon, Apykarych stood in his chariot, defenceless.

  Jairudh ordered his charioteer to move it closer to Apykarych’s chariot. Jairudh kept his bow down and picked up a sword. As his chariot touched Apykarych’s chariot, Jairudh jumped in his enemy’s chariot, and placed his sword against Apykarych’s throat, indicating a capture.

  The crowd was stunned. Taraksh stood up on his feet. The impossible had happened. Apykarych had been defeated, and that too so easily.

  There was a mixed reaction from the crowd as the match had been really exciting, but Apykarych, the so-called father of weaponry had lost the duel.

  Apykarych was the chief trainer of Mahaverna and his defeat was really demoralizing for the armed forces. However, there was one man who was not upset; who was smiling mysteriously at the victory of Jairudh, instead. He was Shreshtaha, and he had found his key player.

  Jairudh remained rooted in his position, like a strong tree. He was unnerved by the storm brewing overhead as a few spectators began hurtling abuses at him, while others were transfixed by the scene before them.

  He had his sword pointed at Apykarych’s neck; the young archer looked stoic, but his eyes reflected anger. It seemed Jairudh wanted to thrust his sword inside Apykarych’s neck but was restraining himself. The young archer pulled back his sword and placed it in its scabbard, and aggressively shoved Apykarych back using his left hand.

  The shrug made Apykarych stumble out of his chariot. Jairudh looked cynically back at him as Apykarych fell from his chariot. The young archer then stepped out of the chariot, walked to the middle of the arena and scanned the crowd with his eagle eyes. He had an aura of invincibility and challenge in his glare.

  But the old man of Mahaverna was not prepared to submit without a fight. He felt humiliated, which felt like a vice-like grip on his heart and soul.

  Like a wounded lion, he gathered all his energy and pounced at Jairudh and punched him using both his hands. The impact bruised Jairudh’s face. Apykarych struck again; using both his fists interlocked together to maximize impact. But this time, Jairudh blocked the blow with his left hand and then using his right hand grabbed Apykarych’s throat. The grasp was so stifling that Apykarych buckled down on his knees and felt his soul preparing to leave his body; slowly and painfully.

  Seeing this, the royal guards came running to his rescue. They pulled Apykarych away from Jairudh’s grip and seized the young man with force. One of the guards then took
out his sword and placed it on Jairudh’s throat. He looked at the King for permission to kill.

  The King was inflamed with rage and prepared to give the nod to the royal guard to finish the young archer. But he was stopped by Shreshtaha, who whispered something in the King’s ear. Taraksh nodded to the priest and ordered the troops to spare Jairudh. He instructed the guards to escort him away from the arena.

  As Jairudh walked towards the exit along with the guards; the crowd started jeering him and protested loudly calling for Jairudh’s execution. They wanted retribution for the humiliating defeat of the revered father of weaponry in Mahaverna - Apykarych.

  Apykarych, on the other hand, stood alone in the middle. He felt vilified in front of his own people and was furious. He breathed heavily as he watched Jairudh disappearing from his sight.

  The first battle of the tournament had come to a close with an unexpected outcome.

  The battle had left people feeling anxious. They were left wondering, doubting the infallibility of their leaders. Many more bouts were still to follow, many redemptions to be made, many speculations and bets to be completed.

  If anything, the first combat had shown that anything was possible.

  The next five hours of the day saw many more exciting matches. The eighth match of the day, however, had strategic importance as it was to introduce the fastest combatant - Tung Zapotec as a contestant.

  The gates opened with a loud and ominous screech followed by the sombre voice of the announcer.

  “From the Far East state of Ginzi, here comes Tung Zapotec! Don’t be fooled by this young man’s physique! This is no ordinary man. He is the fastest combatant in the world. Hold your breath as he proves it to us by facing ten of the strongest warriors from the old kingdom of Tohran, the fiercest gladiatorial race of Mahaverna – The Dragon Regiment.

  As he finished speaking, the other gate opened and from within, emerged ten well-built warriors. They marched towards the centre of the arena in a very organized and disciplined way. These were professional fighters, facing a virtual novice.

  The gladiators were armed with various kinds of weapons; two of them carried swords, two were equipped with flails, two held tridents and two carried bows. The last two wore spiked metallic gloves (Gauntlets) on one hand each. A pouch containing spiked balls was also fastened to the gauntlet warriors. Barring the archers and the soldiers with metallic gloves, all others held round metallic shields.

  The warriors all bowed to the King and then prepared for the battle while Tung stood still in the middle of the arena. He had an unusual way of holding the sword. Rather than keeping it upright, he held it upside down pointing outwards. This grip allowed him to slash his sword in an extremely fast pace and made him highly effective.

  Similarly, his stance also complimented his speed. He stood with his legs wide apart. His body weight balanced on his left leg and his right leg relaxed. This stance helped him to quickly move forward and back while fighting; a magnificent dance of assault and retreat.

  He wore light crocodile leather armour, which was light, but kept his body protected. Tung looked focused and stood virtually immobile in his position. His eyes alert, and constantly assessing the enemy.

  On the other hand, the Dragon Regiment took their positions and formed a semi-circle. The two archers remained behind and walked behind the half circle of their peers.

  As the troops walked forward, tension started building up. Tung Zapotec appeared like a diminutive amateur standing before the ten men strong ‘Dragon Regiment’. The resilient regiment banged their weapons on their shields as they marched closer.

  This regiment was the most feared gladiators in the Kingdom; their stratagem was well planned. The men with the flails marched at the right and left extreme corners. Adjacent to them, were the men with the spiked gloves, followed by swordsmen. In the middle, marched the remaining two men armed with tridents in hoplite formation. They all kept gaps in between in order to leave room for combat.

  As the troops closed in on Tung, the archers started firing arrows at him through the gaps, sides and over the soldiers by jumping up in acrobatic style. However, the incoming arrows seemed unable to touch Tung. He was, after all, touted as the fastest combatant in the world and was able to easily cut through the few arrows that found their way towards him.

  At the same time, the warriors with spiked gloves began assaulting Tung with spiked balls. But, once again he was quick and intercepted the incoming metallic balls with his sword.

  So far, the quick-witted wily warrior had only been defending himself. Suddenly he changed his tactics; he caught a spiked ball and threw it back at the gauntlet wielding warrior to his right. The spiked ball pierced his left eye and he fell down writhing in pain.

  Tung wasted no time; he immediately dashed towards the warrior holding a flail. The gladiator swung his flail towards the aggressor but Tung quickly slid down and slashed the thigh of the warrior with masterful precision. The warrior collapsed on impact.

  Tung then flipped back up quickly only to brave a fresh assault in the form of two more arrows fired at him. He intercepted one arrow but the other scraped his shoulder.

  Tung winced in pain but sprinted towards the first archer. The archer tried loading another arrow but was not quick enough. Tung flew at the archer, flipping over behind him, stabbing him in the back with his sword. Without giving a second break, Tung like a machine rolled over, picked up the bow of the dead archer and fired an arrow at the other archer who could do nothing but stare at the grim face of death.

  The audience looked on with bated breath, as the fastest warrior in the world then raced towards the injured flail warrior, picked his weapon and threw it at one of the swordsmen. The flail bounced off the ground and hit the soldier on his foot, entangling him.

  Tung then rushed towards the trapped soldier. He changed his grip and pushed his sword into his neck. He then lightly picked up the dying soldier and flung his body towards the warrior wielding a trident, taking him completely by surprise.

  Tung then again hurled himself in the air, literally sailing in his unique acrobatic style over the gladiator. While still in the air, he twirled his sword around and thrust it into the exposed neck of the gladiator, finishing off another.

  The remaining gladiators looked nervous and confused but Tung was not one to linger.

  He charged again, this time towards the other trident wielding gladiator. The warrior immediately started retreating, nervously jabbing his trident forward. Tung accelerated forward, shifted to the gladiator’s right side and stabbed his sword into the exposed collarbone of the warrior.

  The rest of the warriors were easy pickings and Tung annihilated them easily, leaving the one with the gauntlet. The gladiator had run out of his spiked balls, so Tung also threw his weapon down, breathed and walked towards the gladiator for a hand-to-hand combat.

  The gladiator mistakenly assumed this to be an opportunity and engaged in a fist fight with Tung. He repeatedly tried to punch Tung in the face with his spiked knuckle but Tung kept averting the attack. He tried again and again but was unable to connect.

  Tung was too fast for him. It appeared as if Tung was toying with the last remaining warrior.

  After a few seconds, Tung took two steps back and then, in a fraction of a second, jumped and kicked the gladiator’s face making the warrior bleed profusely.

  The gladiator wiped the blood off his face and charged at Tung in frenzy.

  But Tung was prepared.

  He moved to his side and kicked his opponent in the knee with force.

  The warrior fell on his broken knee and tried to punch Tung with his back hand.

  Tung caught that as well.

  He quickly kept his foot on his stretched elbow and pulled it back thus, breaking it too. The warrior fell down, writhing in pain with a broken arm and knee.

  It was over for the last gladiator remaining. In a span of ten minutes, Tung had brought down ten warriors.

  Tung loo
ked pointedly at the crowd, then somersaulted five times and bowed to the emperor. The crowd went berserk, completely won over by this warrior’s skills, and unaffected zest. Tung emerged as their favourite.

  The first day of the tournament concluded after this match but the celebration continued all through the night, with soldiers and traders revelling in the city streets.

  The Senate Room, Mahaverna

  “Why did you let him live, Shreshtaha? Why? I wish to face him again! He thinks he is better than me? A better archer than me, the one who created modern archery? Thank god it was a no blood match! Otherwise, with just one arrow – ‘the Mahakal Astra’ – I would have finished him. He hasn’t seen my real power yet.”

  After venting his ire, Apykarych started breathing heavily, widening his eyes in anger, though he did not look at Shreshtaha directly as his ego was tarnished by Jairudh.

  Shreshtaha on the other hand seemed calm and composed, as he leaned against a divider inside the room. He was completely unfazed by the tirade he had just witnessed. He calmly said.

  “He could also have used the ‘Mahakal Astra’ against you, for all I know he possesses it too. Do not underestimate him, Apykarych.”

  Apykarych started to speak but was hushed by Shreshtaha, who continued.

  “Listen to me! I do not like him too, but we need him. He is the man who can get us the golden armour. He is no ordinary warrior. I don’t think anyone, save for Taraksh – not even you - can beat him in archery. My spies have keenly observed his skills over time. I am a man of truth and I will not lie only to make you happy. He is more skilled than you, perhaps even the best.”

  “Who taught him? Who is his mentor?” asked Apykarych.

  “You know him well! He is your old friend, Nahsirk!”

  “N..A..H..S..I..R..K?”

  Apykarych was shocked, as if a bolt of electricity had passed through his body.

  “Is he still alive?”

  “Very much alive! And at present he is at Yanecrim itself, locked in the dungeons.” replied Shreshtaha.