A Heart of Gold

Chapter 15: The Chosen Path

Trigger Warning: Graphic depictions of violence. Please proceed with caution.

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For a moment, Radheya could not comprehend what he saw. A brown face was peering at them with malicious glee, but that was not what Radheya noticed. Where their unwelcome guest held the floorboard he had just ripped apart, Radheya spied long, bony fingers with slender, pointed nails. And behind him, from between the crook of his elbow, Radheya saw a tail. A long, thin, moving tail.

The woman in the corner, the only one in their carriage, let out a small, petrified squeep, and immediately clamped her hand over her mouth. Radheya let the bow slide from his hands. This was not a dacoit. It was not even one of the Kiratas. This was a thrice-damned pisach. One of the two men stepped forward, blocking him and Shimun from the creature's line of sight. He knelt before the pisach and prayed fervently, "Swami, these are boys. Spare them, I beg you."

Radheya felt Shimun trembling behind him. Don't be afraid, he wanted to say, but he couldn't even take his eyes off the ugly, fascinating being before them. His mother had told him stories about their cruelty, and although Shon had been scared, Radheya had waved them away as mere tales to keep boys in at night. Now, with one standing in front of him, he did not know that for sure.

The pisach did not even move. It was excruciating, this nervous, tense wait. Then he smiled, and without warning, decapitated the man. The other two people screamed. Blood splattered on the wood, on Radheya's face and hair, on his clothes. Shimun let out a high-pitched shriek. But the pisach only smiled. He hefted himself onto the carriage and leisurely approached them, crowding inside, blocking the dull daylight and sprays of rain. The other man threw himself in front of the boys, in the pisach's path, and yelled, "Run."

Shimun, numb with horror, did not hear. But Radheya did not need to be told twice. He picked up his arrow from where it had fallen on the ground and jammed it into a gap between the wood on the other wall. The arrowhead broke, separated from the long stick, but there was an opening, and Radheya sank his fingers there, feeling his nails chipping, blood oozing, and the wood being prised away. He yanked it off, grabbed a still unresponsive Shimun, and leapt out, diving into the foliage.

It was a massacre. Blood pooled on the pathway, mixing with mud and rainwater. Heads and bodies lay strewn around, like broken dolls. Among them prowled the other pisachs with avaricious eyes, drooling and foaming at the mouth, their deformed bodies forming stark outlines in the rain. Through the bone-chilling horror, Radheya counted six more, excluding the one still ravaging their carriage. A man's gut-wrenching howl permeated the patter of the rain, and he tried not to think what must have caused it.

Instead, he took Shimun by the arm, and crept right into the forest, hoping that none of them would scent the two boys. Less than a hundred metres later, Shimun stumbled, legs giving away under him, and collapsed behind a tall eucalyptus not broad enough to hide them, suppressing a shudder and a moan.

Radheya panicked. They were too close, too open, and the metallic tang of blood and stale scent of death hung in the air. He felt his vision blurring, and only then noticed his blood-spattered clothes dripping, and his wet hair sticking all over his face. Kneeling, he shook Shimun, who looked up at him with wide eyes. Wary of their foes' inhumanely keen hearing, he pointed in the other direction and mouthed, "Run." Shimun did not move an inch. Radheya had never felt so helpless. He wished his father was there. Shimun began rocking himself back and forth. One of the pisachs twisted around to do something. They were nearly spotted. Desperation and terror gave Radheya strength. He hooked Shimun's finger around his neck, and hoisted him up, mindful not to make any noise. Slowly, carefully, he started to weave through the tall and short vegetation. The thought of getting caught spurred him on even though his charge was no featherweight. Radheya tried not to grunt. The impenetrable forest looked more welcoming with every step away from the bloodthirsty creatures they were leaving behind.

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In all his short life, Radheya had never been more afraid of the night. The rain had stopped, but it was chilly, and he did not dare stop, even for a breath. At some point, Shimun had fallen asleep on his shoulders, and Radheya tried to tread softly ever since. The encounter had left him breathless with horror. Radheya came to the shocking realization of the path he had picked. People died, no matter who they were. All eyes closed, and all tongues stopped, and all heartbeats ceased into the same silent beat, no matter who they were. It was like reliving Shon's death again. This was who he could be. People would die by his hands – for he would be a warrior. The thought frightened him, and Radheya spent the better part of the way convincing himself of his desire to be a warrior, trying to focus on the fact that he could have saved his fellow wayfarers had he been trained by way of combat. It did nothing to calm his mind. In front of him, in a red haze, floated the bodies of him fallen companions, jaws open in soundless scream as if to say, 'This is what you are trying to become.'

He was almost sure they were circling the forest time and again, when he finally noticed low lamps through gaps in the trees. Relief choked him momentarily, and Radheya felt his legs nearly give away. He half-carried, half-dragged his charge towards them, ready to negotiate with bonded labour for life, if only to forget the horror he'd seen.

There were men surrounding what appeared to be an enormous clearing. Groggy and fogged up, Radheya's brain took an inordinate amount of time to place their half-naked, low-hanging lower garments as those used by Kiratas. He could not even bother himself about it, and directly tumbled in their line of vision, body flagging with hunger and thirst. There was shouting and yelling, and some of them were rushing at him, but his eyes drooped, and his breath came in ragged, short gasps, and the world around erupted in a million sparks before it all turned black.

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Radheya woke up with a cottony feeling in his mouth and a web of cords under his back. The world was still dark, and he wondered if he had lost his vision. Something cool and wet was placed over his eyes, and he found he could open them again. There was a petite woman kneeling by his cot, and she smiled when his eyes met hers. Radheya parted his lips in an unspoken question, and the woman reached out to place a tumbler of water against his parched lips.

"There, child. Your companion is alright. Soon, you will be too. He told us what happened. I am the tribal vaidya." She had a high, shrill voice that clashed with her stern demeanor, and her words were thick with the local accent.

"'ow 'ong...?"

"You've been out for around half a day. It's the shock, child, and the exhaustion."

There was a pregnant pause. Then, "Shimun told me you were going south. But you're not, are you?"

Radheya wanted to ask what made her think so. He wanted to protest and refute her claim. Except, he didn't have the energy for either. His throat was scratchy, even after the drink, so he merely nodded. However, the lady kept staring at him, so he felt compelled to clarify, "'M goin' to Mount Mahendra. Searchin' for Lord Parashuram. Wan' to learn..."

To her enduring credit, the woman did not even bat an eyelash at this news, as if it were every day that boys turned up at her doorstep running from pisachs and aiming to meet a Vishnu. She merely nodded and then informed him casually, "He does not meet anyone these days, and he takes no disciple except the ones he already has. They say he is waiting for the last Vishnu, the Kalki."

Radheya frowned. That complicated matters. Also, why had no one told him?

Aloud he declared, "'M goin' to convince 'im."

The woman sighed, and rubbed her forehead, but made no attempt to dissuade him. Instead, she got up, went in, and returned with a stack of books, dumping them by his cot. Radheya blinked dubiously at her. She rolled her eyes and explained, "Shimun told me you are a Suta. The Lord teaches only Brahmins. Should you want to disguise yourself as one, then make sure you read all the mantras underlined in these books. They should give you a pretty good cover. Burn them afterwards. Wear this sacred thread, the janeu." Radheya opened his mouth, but the vaidya beat him to it, "And before you ask me where I got this from, I'm not telling you."

Radheya closed his mouth, the question dying on his tongue. The woman smiled, patted him arm, and murmured maternally, "Rest, child."

So Radheya rested.