Gods and demons

Ships, over a hundred of them, stood moored at the bank. Soldiers and horses, in their thousands, were spilling out of the ships. Once on the ground, the soldiers from each ship clustered together in a designated spot. It was like completing a gigantic jigsaw puzzle; what initially looked like some random, scattered pieces, gradually started to take shape with each falling piece. Hours went by as soldiers, as if guided by an invisible hand on an invisible chessboard, kept gathering. Finally, the great phalanx was complete: one thousand Merkava (chariot) in the front, seven thousand Tempesta (storm) cavalry in behind. Still, the phalanx stood still. Now, the auxiliaries and supplies were pouring out of the ships. Hours went by as the ships emptied their bulk and supplies piled up on the bank. In the last rays of the day, the unloading was finally completed. But the great hoard neither moved nor set camp. The cavalry started to break away from the phalanx in an organized manner and started to move to the fringes; when they finished, they had formed a perimeter shielding the supplies, the auxiliaries, the Merkavas, and the remaining Tempestas. They rested for the night, an uneasy rest under a cold, dark night. They have drifted far from their homes, so far that they don't measure, remember, or bother about the distance any more. Other memories are fading too—the memories of their homes, the memories of the warriors who fell on the way. Some fear that they might have strayed too far, crossing some invisible line they shouldn't have.

At the first light, the hoard stirred into life; soon they started to march upstream along the western bank of Chandni. The chariots and the cavalry went on a measured trot that showed the intent of haste and yet didn't let the heavily laden ox-carts and the auxiliaries fall too far behind. There was still light enough when they reached their destination. Here, the Chandni had spread wide and shallow. Further upstream, the banks were too steep and the current was too strong even for the Tempestas to cross; downstream, the river was too wide and the soil was too soft for the Merkavas to cross. Even here, the ox-carts wouldn't be able to cross, but the chariots and the cavalry would have little trouble. Trouble waited for them on the other bank. The huge fortress bathed in the full glory of the setting sun. The splashes of gold didn't mellow its grim, indomitable appearance; it stood like a battle-ready warrior, silent and resolute. Further behind loomed the outline of the enemy encampment, 'Twenty thousand', the Sohosropoti thought to himself. He was now the Polemarch (battle commander) and had many sohosropoti under his command. He looked at his army; ten thousand men, the finest the gods have created, stood still, their helmets and armour glistening in the last rays of the sun. Pride and joy swelled inside him. There was something else too; like the faint tune of a far-off song, a tinge of sadness kept whirling in his mind. 'Tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, this army will hurl themselves at the enemy; how many of them will live to tell the tale!' he wondered.

The scripts and the spies spoke of a fertile and prosperous land and a docile and hard-working people. 'Look at them', he said to himself, massing on the open, plain ground. The Merkavas will scythe them down like ripe corn.' But that thought wasn't too comforting. 'Do they know the fear my raging Tempestas strike at the hearts of their enemies?' he fumed by himself. Still, there was no solace. For a decade, he had known wars and warriors; he had fought on frigid plateaus and blistering deserts, he had fought in treacherous ravines and rolling plains. Here, he feels doom awaits them. Tales tell of devastating floods and apocalyptic tempests that tried to wipe out this people, yet they remained unbowed. Whispers said that these are demonic people living at the end of the world in defiance of heaven and the gods.

His brooding was cut short by the sounds of approaching hooves. The Deb-rokkhi (soldiers of the gods), the legion of the Northern Empire, general and his commanders were coming to greet them. The Polemarch smiled ruefully. It's been only a year since these two armies were fighting each other thousands of miles away in the west. For weeks, the great armies had fought, both confident in their own might, both audacious in claiming heaven's protection. The Deb-rokkhi war-elephants, hundreds of them, had tried to shatter the phalanx into pieces, sweeping and trampling thousands of soldiers. But the legion stood its ground, and the elephants, mobbed from all sides, withdrew. Their Tempestas, ten thousand strong, had tried to break the spine of the enemy, mowing down thousands of Deb-rokkhi. But the enemy held their nerve, and, like horses' legs getting stuck in the mud, their seer bulk sucked in the Tempestas. Though thousands of dead, men and beasts, lay scattered on the battlefield, no vulture or jackal came to feast on those. As if the nature got petrified by the ferocity and ruination it had witnessed. The great armies watched each other with weary eyes and fuming hearts while they nursed their deep wounds and reinforcements bolstered their ranks. Occasionally, there were skirmishes to test the weakness and the nerve of the opponent, but the armies reined themselves from engaging in another Armageddon. Monsoon came as a relief for both sides as they postponed the campaign till the next dry season.

During this lull, their emperor had sent a messenger bearing the request for a parley and a hundred carts bearing gifts for his counterpart. The response was prompt and cordial. The Nripoti (lord of the people), the emperor of the Northern Empire, offered one of his numerous palaces and one thousand servants for the shetango emperor and his council. In addition, he would allow ten thousand foreign soldiers to guard their emperor and his council. Though it was on the fringes of the empire, the grandeur of the palace spoke of the wealth and might of the empire. At the meeting, the emperor offered unconditional friendship. 'You have shed blood in animosity, now you must shed blood to create fellowship' the Nripoti declared. 'What do you expect us to do?' the emperor asked with a tinge of uneasiness. 'Help us cleanse the eastern lands, and we will have a blood-vow' the Nripoti said nonchalantly. Neither the emperor nor any of his council had any idea about the eastern realm; so the Nripoti and his council told them about the fertile lands and the demonic people who are defiling the gods' endowment. 'We had offered them our suzerainty, but so accursed they are, they refused such heavenly benevolence' the Nripoti said spitefully.

And so it began. Most of the shetango soldiers were weary after so many years on the road and having fought so many battles. The spectre of another battle snuffed out whatever spirit and energy they had. The thought of another campaign in another far-off and unknown land didn't spark the spirit of adventure, it filled them with foreboding and exhaustion. But their emperor was a wily character, he announced that the army selected for the campaign will return home immediately after its completion. This lifted the spirits. The spirits rose even more when the Nripoti announced a bounty of one lakh (one hundred thousand) pieces of gold for the campaigners. For months, they tried to gather precious little information about the mysterious land and its enigmatic people. The scripts and the spies spoke of a fertile and prosperous land and a docile and hard-working people. The merchants who traded with them and the dockworkers who serviced their ships spoke of plentiful produce and intelligent and humble people. 'They have soldiers for sure' the emissary who had attended the queen's presentation informed the council, 'the few I have seen are robust and disciplined, and the general and his commanders are smart people though they are too gentle as warriors' he elaborated. He spoke about the gathering of the nations during the ceremony. 'It's interesting, I expected those barbarians to be at each other's throats, instead, they seemed to have some sort of rapport amongst themselves' he concluded.