The Princes of Ayodhya-The Ramayan Through Short Stories

The Midnight Eclipse

A/N-For those that maybe haven't realized, this is the first chapter of Ram versus Ravan. The battle will start in this hither chapter. This book just hit 70 thousand reads, and it's truly amazing that I can start the beginning of the end at such a huge milestone. Thank you to everyone for motivating me and dedicating your time to reading this book of mine. :)

Many hours before dawn, the vanar sena had assembled in their separate legions, standing at attention on the battlefield. The healing tents had been emptied the day before. For the first time since the beginning of the war, every living vanar in Ram's army stood on the battlefield. Some had bandages wrapped tightly around their head, others with missing limbs, some with scars that still hadn't closed. 

Ram's serene gaze had healed their wounds, and breathing the fire of anger, they stood.

In the front row were the usual generals; Mainda, Dwivida, Nal, Neel, Angad, Raja Sugriv and Pawanputra Hanuman. They had terrorized the battlefield for all these weeks, appearing in the nightmares of every rakshas soldier in Ravan's army. 

But for that day, Hanuman hadn't increased ten times in size, Sugriv hadn't bothered to oil his muscles, and neither Nal nor Neel tried to make any jokes.

Then there was Lakshman, glowering with his massive bow, dark eyes scanning the empty battlefield. There was the slayer of simmering Atikaya, the man who had killed the crown prince of Lanka without even a hint of illusion, a person who could make arrows rain down upon their army with minimal effort.

In front of them all, shoulders squared, stood Ram. Though not the most massive of them all, his post as leader of the army could not be questioned. Something made him tower over everyone else, something made his brilliance blind a man to everyone else's luster. Ram hadn't killed any of Ravan's generals. Prahast, Kumbha, Nikumbha, none of them were dead by his hand.

But not a single asur could forget the day he had stepped onto the battlefield. His lotus blue eyes were lit with an angry flame, jaw clenched, his arrows clearing every battalion like they were trees being chopped down and not feared demons. 

Who could forget when he had faced Ravan? His words still echoed. "Ravan! I do not kill unarmed men. Go back!" Shamefully, the King of Lanka had obeyed this command.

Sure, Ram hadn't killed any of Ravan's courtiers. But in minutes, he had forced Ravan to turn his back on the battle in a bout of cowardliness. That victory amassed ten times the fear that the killers of any other rakshas had. Under the guise of a gentle countenance and twinkling eyes, everyone knew there hid a warrior that could bring the sky to his feet with his arrows if he wished. But all he wanted was Ravan's defeat.

And that was what made them fear him the most.

-----O-----

Ravan was clad in his ceremonial armor, and puffed his chest out as Mandodari finished her aarti, setting the plate down before bringing his sword in both of her hands. Wordlessly, she nicked the edge of her thumb on the sharp blade and pressed a bright red tilak on Ravan's forehead. 

The entire room was silent, except for Ravan's occasional wheezing breath and the silent clattering of Mandodari's shoes on the tile.

Finally, Ravan grumbled. "Why aren't you speaking?" he asked, sharp teeth gnashing together in distaste. "As a wife, shouldn't you be looking at me lovingly regaling me with all the other enemies I've defeated? Shouldn't you be expressing your utmost confidence in my skill and that I'll bring my enemies' head back? Shouldn't you be talking about what food you'll make me once I come back from this battle victorious?"

Mandodari looked up sharply. "If she is married to you in all else but reality, why don't you go ask the woman whom you've kept captive in the Ashok Vatika to complete her wifely duties? Ask her to wish you victorious against her own husband!"