The Last Rudra

The news of a djall hiding in the nearby woods spread like wildfire in the city. What killed the malevolent being started many rumors. Magsmen and bards were badgering the city guards to fork out some information so they could spin a tale and a song to earn their livings. However, even the most venerated Suka, the divine bard, couldn't cajole the guards into opening their mouths.

However, the folks, spooked by ominous occurrences in Minaak, couldn't be denied a story, a tale that could lighten their nightmares. 

So Magsmen racked their creative brains and churned out their version of accounts of what had transpired in the heart of the Nimara wood. 

Of course, the juicy tale had a mysterious yoddha with a murky past, hunting for the embodiments of evils, the spirit defilers, and their dark companions like djalls. 

"As I always say," began Nupura, taking a sip from his mug of wine, relishing the taste of the expensive brew. You didn't meet such a wealthy and rookie customer every day. Apparently, the young man before him was new in the south. From his accent and golden skin tone, Nupura reckoned him to be from the northwest, maybe from Sursena.

Young spirit-wielders from all nine mahajapadas (provinces) were coming to Minaak to participate in Inna's feast. Some were to fight and some to watch. As for the almond-eyed young man sitting before him, he seemed to be an archer, or he wouldn't have been putting on the arm-guards, made of dragon skin. 

Everyone, who was coming to Minaak, wanted to hear about the djall and the tale of how traitor Kruma eluded Lord Oman. And this handsome young man was not an exception. After entering the tavern, the first thing he had asked for was a magsman who knew the tales of recent happenings. And the tavern owner had pointed out Nupura. Of course, the young man wanted to hear the eyewitness account, but no one in the city knew what had occurred in the woods.

  Nupura, with other magsmen and bards, had visited the site ten days ago. They found only a gaping fissure running through the charred land covered with white ashes—nothing gory, nothing inspiring. 

So they spun the tale, of course not a cow-bull story as some fools, ignorant of the ways of sutas, were saying. They invoked the all-knowing Vayu (wind) and listened to its whisper. Thus, they complied the tale of the lone yoddha cursed to live forever and watch the world dying. 

The gruesome tale had made their heart so heavy that they had to sit there in the night, wailing. But tell this to a young lord, full of hope and valor, you wouldn't get a single penny, let alone this lavish brew. 

A tell was not something that everyone could decipher. It required the wisdom of generations and the third eye of a man called faith. 

"Love can make a man anything. A hero or a heartless villain. Take the example of Evil Lord Mora, they say his love for his mother turned him into the devil what ..." 

"I didn't pay you for the tale I hear from my wet nurse." The young man cut off Nupura before he could finish the opening sentence. 

Nupura looked at the well-sculpted face with high cheekbones. He didn't mind the brass in his patron's voice. 

The haughty spirit-wielders treated others like dirt. 

"Tell me what befell in the woods. Was it really a djall as the rumours are flying? And save your folkways, I don't have time for them." 

The young lord said, tucking the dark lock behind his ear. 

Nupura took another sip as he shook his head. 

  Too impatient to decipher the tale. 

"Yes. The child of Elanor was here. As for what..." Nupura looked into the dark eyes of the young warrior, "As you don't want to hear the tale. Then it's not clear. But something did burn the ban of all lives to ashes. Lord sealed the mouths of guards. So we have no secrets to share." 

He stopped and focused on his drink.

  Weak as they were, magsmen had their pride too. And If the legend could be believed, they were not so weak. They had changed the course of history. They had forged heroes in the dark times. But Alas! this world would never know the river of blood; they had shed for mankind. 

"And what your folks think killed the djall?" The young spirit wielder asked after a moment of silence. 

"You said. You don't have time for our tale."

"I'm sorry. Now tell me."

Nupura gave a piercing look to his patron. No wielder had ever apologized to him. There was something different about the young man. 

"They were four. One mortal, two immortals, and last one... ." Nupura replied, "doomed to burn eternally." 

The young man's sparkling eyes widened.

  Nupura hoped for a laugh, but it didn't come. Instead, the wielder said,

"But other magsmen say it was a yoddha. Now, who should I believe?"

"They tell a story. And the story goes like that. But you asked me what our folks think killed the djall." 

The young man shook his head, 

"Ok! Now tell me of this young lord of yours. Rumors say that he has mastered all the basic spirit paths in a week. Is it true?"

"Yes. He had visited the elementary spirit academy two days ago to give his exam and passed it with full marks, surprising all the academy and Minaak. They say Nidra, the fairy of dreams, trained him during his three-year-long slumber."

"And what's your take on this?"

"Same as the folks say," Nupura said, his eyes twinkling.

"One last question and the five ducats are yours." said the young man, giving a glance to the increasing crowd in the tavern.

"Kruma, the vice head of the falconry guild was really working for the spirit-defilers?"

"The night djall perished in the woods, Griva, the chief of city guards, had received a dautya leaf. The message had full information about the spirit -defilers, hiding in the city. Griva, who was dying for such information since someone tried to assassinate Ronan's son, took immediate action. That night was a really sleepless night. The city guards ransacked the whole city and arrested almost a dozen spirit-defilers, working undercover. One of them was lord's courtier Mukha. He accused Kruma. But When Griva knocked on the Kruma's house. He had already escaped the city, along with his family. Griva found nothing but a note, pinned on the wall. What it said only Griva and Lord Oman know."

The young man listened quietly. His eyes were on the young man with sort hair, sitting in the far corner of the tavern by the window. Nupura eyed the bronze-skinned young man, wearing a sigil on his olive-green cloak. An apprentice of Vikramshila, the most mysterious academy of Varta. Rumors said that they chose their apprentices even before their births. 

What was he doing here in Minaak so far away from his home? Nupura wondered. Everyone knew Vikramshila didn't believe in duals and worldly fame. The kulpati ( head) of the academy would never allow his disciple to participate in Inna's feast. 

"Here are your five ducats." The young man got up, throwing five cold coins on the table. 

"Thanks, young master," Nupura said, beaming. Aslan's figurine carved on the coin watched him as he swiftly picked up the coins. 

By the time he finished, his gracious patron had left the tavern. 

Nupura looked around, hoping for the next patron. He already had 100 ducats in his pocket, 20 more, and he would be ready to leave for Ahom. 

He had already persuaded his father. It wasn't easy, but his father caved in at last. Nupura didn't blame him. It was really a wild goose chase, for no one knew where the ancient temple of Mahamaya was.

They said the shrine existed in different dimensions. And only a true suta could find it. 

Nupura didn't know if he had all the qualities of Suta.. But anyway, he would give it a try before giving up hope.