Chapter 39 - Return to Kailasha

There was much Ram wanted to know about the enigma of a man seated in front of him. Who was he? Where was he from? And most importantly, how did he manage to leave Lanka intact and alive after slaughtering their Crown Prince?

Ram surmised that the ashen man, who had introduced himself as Kratos, and Ravana had a storied past. But it couldn't have been just an acquaintance made in passing. There had to be a deeper connection. One that superseded the relationship between a father and son.

Did such a relationship even exist? What could be more precious than the bond between father and son? Even Ram's own father passed away in heartache the day he left Ayodhya in banishment.

With his brother's recovery secured, the patient had been moved to the infirmary tent to recuperate fully. Yet, the pungent odour of various herbal medications hung in the air. It wasn't overpowering, but definitely olfactable enough to affect the taste of the tea they were supposed to be relishing. The scent of the medication was mounting a fierce campaign against the spices in the tea as they fought for supremacy on his taste buds.

On second thought, it would have been a better choice to host the man in the mess than in his tent. Unfortunately, Ram wasn't thinking that far. His objective had been to extract information. Tea was just an excuse.

Ram refilled Kratos' near-empty cup with the last dregs of tea from the kettle.

"How do you find the taste?" Ram asked. "I find it a bit difficult to swallow. It's very confusing."

"Too much," Kratos said without thought. The disembodied head that was still animated hummed in affirmation as it drew in a large inhale. Ram was certain that he had noticed the steam emanating from the cup snaking into the head's nostrils. "The spices are unnecessary. It is overpowering the citrusy undertones of the original blend. And this particular tea doesn't do well when mellowed out with milk."

"That's an interesting analysis," Ram mumbled in thought. "And all that without even a taste of the decoction?"

"The nose does most, if not all, of the heavy lifting when it comes to taste," the head said dismissively.

"I apologise, I did not receive your introduction," Ram finally addressed the head.

Ram hoped the statement was a hint enough for the head to introduce itself, but all he received was a pointed silence.

"It seems the respected gentleman does not wish to share his identity," Ram acknowledged with a nod.

His eyes darted towards the semi-wrapped head still hanging by Kratos' hip. Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Ram probed, "You possess an unusual constitution, Kratos. Very few warriors can claim to have breached the golden gates of Lanka. Fewer still can walk away from a personal audience with its King after dealing such a fatal blow to his royal house."

Ram paused and took a slow sip of his ruined tea. He wanted to gauge Kratos' reaction.

"The Rakshasa is infamous for his terrible wrath. He does not forgive those who cross him, especially those who harm his kin. Yet, you managed to depart his stronghold without an army at your back. Such rare leniency suggests a deep familiarity between the two of you. Did a shared history stay his hand?"

Kratos returned a scowl, and in one motion downed the entire scalding cup of tea. He placed the cup carefully and stood up to leave.

"I apologise if I offended you," Ram quickly doubled back. But his words were met by deaf ears. Kratos bent down, picked up the animated head and hung it by his other waist.

"Thank you for the tea," he said before walking towards the exit.

"Forgive me if my words struck an unpleasant chord," Ram interjected. His voice lost its pleasantness and acquired a more calculated directness. "But any information on my opponent is valuable. I request that you please answer my questions."

"Am I a prisoner or am I a guest?" Kratos asked as he stood a step away from the tent's exit.

"Do not misunderstand," Ram answered as he raised his hands in a sign of submission. "You are my benefactor. Your actions have saved both my brother by blood and brother by philosophy from certain death. To that I am eternally grateful. But the fact remains that by coincidence or fate, you share a connection with Ravana. A connection so deep that he was willing to overlook the fact that you killed his son."

Ram paused to let the prelude sink in. He then said, "As you can see, we are fighting a steep, uphill battle here. Any information would be valuable for our cause."

"I do not care about this… squabble," Kratos snapped back.

"It is for a righteous cause!" Ram reasoned. Kratos turned slowly and bore down on Ram with an irritated scowl.

"What righteous cause?" Kratos poked.

"The monster kidnapped my wife-" Ram began, but Kratos raised a palm and interrupted him. "So you amassed an army, dragged them halfway across the continent and across an ocean, just to rescue your wife?"

"The act was unjust and dishonourable," Ram expressed solemnly. "To kidnap another's spouse is a violation of Dharma."

Kratos raised his right hand and said, "This is your wife." He brought his left down to the same level and said, "This is Dharma."

"What matters more to you?"

Ram looked affronted by the question. His jaw tightened, and a muscle feathered near his temple. "I believe this is a poor, over-simplification of the scenario-"

"No," Kratos interjected. "If it is your wife who is more important, you could very easily rescue her. Especially with that monkey in your command."

"That would be relying on subterfuge," Ram said with a decisive shake of his head. "That goes against my honour as a warrior."

Kratos let out a snort in mirth. "What if he does something horrible to your wife in the meantime?"

"Well-"

"Even if there is something staying his hand," Kratos continued. "What would the world think of a married woman who has been abducted and has lived in another man's home?"

Ram's eyes darted subtly, as those questions had inevitably passed his mind.

"Honour and righteousness," Kratos repeated. "What a joke!"

"My past and history with Ravana are irrelevant to your conflict," Kratos said with finality. "I am going now."

And then, without waiting for Ram's response, Kratos pulled aside the flaps and left the tent.

Watching his retreating figure, Ram descended into thought. Kratos' presence, though unexpected, had shifted the battlefield to a new equilibrium that placed them on equal footing with the enemy. And the conversation, though short, had made it clear that the man did not want to linger on the battlefield for another moment. The unaccounted variable was voluntarily making itself scarce, which was more than welcome.

One thing did worry Ram, though, and it was the two heads by Kratos' waists. The one that was inanimate was definitely Ravana's tenth head. What the Rakshasa's purpose was in handing it over to Kratos was still unclear, but as long as the man and the head were far away from the battlefield, Ram wouldn't have to worry about any unwanted interference. The animated head, on the other hand, just felt… somewhat familiar. Ram was certain that he had seen it somewhere before… but he just couldn't put his finger on it.

"The man claims to despise subterfuge, but he sure knows how to speak in circles," Brahma complained out loud.

"You are quick to introduce yourself, but you oddly stayed your tongue back there," Kratos probed.

"I have my reasons," Brahma muttered. "He smelt like someone I am not particularly fond of."

Kratos hummed. "This is the last time I help others."

"True, it would have been better to do nothing," Brahma agreed. Then, with a sarcastic drawl, he continued, "But then you would have missed out on a fun adventure."

Kratos let out a grunt in response.

As they arrived at the beach, Kratos walked in the direction of the stone landbridge shrinking as it snaked into the horizon. It was at that moment that a familiar voice caught their attention.

"…TRAVELLER! … HEAD!" It was a soprano screech that sounded somewhat inhuman. Kratos turned towards the call and swiftly dodged to the right as a furry blur zipped past him. The entity tried to brake by shoving their foot into the ground, but the beach sand tripped them up and caused them to barrel out of control into a coconut tree.

"Ouch…!" It was the Vanara that had transported Kratos. The monkey stood up and nursed a minor bruise on his forehead. He revealed a relieved smile and said, "I got sc'red that I'd miss you guys!"

"Unfortunately, we cannot fly," Brahma said with a chuckle.

"That's okay!" The Vanara bellowed animatedly. "I can fly! Let me take you back!"

"That is not necessary!" Kratos cut in. He could already feel a headache creeping, and the monkey was definitely exacerbating the symptoms.

"Please! It is the least I can do," the Vanara pleaded. "I owe you my life, after all!"

Seeing the monkey's unwavering expression, Kratos was certain that he wasn't going to budge on the offer. "Fine…" Kratos relented.

The monkey crouched in front of Kratos and gestured for him to climb on his back.

It was an odd sight to see a mountain of a man hanging precariously on the back of an ape three-quarters of his size. Luckily, there were no others nearby to see it.

The moment Kratos secured himself on the Vanara, the monkey kicked off and burst into motion. What followed after was simply an inscrutable blur and an immense pressure akin to a small boulder pressing down on him. Though it lasted for half a minute before dispersing.

In the distance, Kratos saw the jagged peaks of the Himalayas approaching them.

"You are as swift as the wind!" Brahma exclaimed from his waist.

"That is my name, after all!" The Vanara preened.

"All this time, you still haven't told us your name," Brahma responded with a chuckle.

The Vanara chuckled as he landed with a gentle thud and kneeled to allow Kratos to dismount. "They call me Hanuman, but my birth name is Maruti."

"What a beautiful name! And apt as well," Brahma expressed. "Your parents must be so proud."

"I try," Maruti said with a wry smile.

"I am Brahma," the head said. "This is Kratos."

The monkey bowed instinctively, but froze midway. His gaze narrowed and darted rapidly between the head and the ashen man. Then, in another blur of motion, he collapsed into a prostrated stance by Kratos' feet.

"I am truly, truly sorry for the disrespec' that I have caused by my pr'sumptuos behaviour!" The monkey rattled. "To think that I addressed the Great Creator with such a mundane name… May the Heavens smite me and may I be bor-"

"Please!" Brahma quickly interjected. "This isn't necessary! I am not here in my capacity as the Creator. I am merely an observer."

"But still-" Maruti defended, but was cut off by Brahma with a scowl.

"If I disliked your behaviour, I would have said so," he pressed. "It was pleasing to interact with you the way you were before."

Maruti sat with his legs folded and looked down in embarrassment.

A spark of remembrance ignited in the monkey's eyes, and he reached into the satchel by his waist. Carefully, he produced a plain conch shell. He brought it close to his lips and started to mumble into the shell's ear.

Once he'd finished, the Vanara stood up slowly and extended the conch shell towards Kratos with both hands.

"The Esteemed Warrior has saved this one's life. Had it not been for the Warrior, I would not be standing here," Maruti expressed with sincere gratitude. "It is only right for me to offer a rewar', but there is nothin' that is of equal value that can compare. Hence, for saving my life, I offer my life."

Kratos looked suspiciously at the extended shell. After being bound to the axe, Kratos was far more careful about picking up mundane items of suspicious origin.

Noticing Kratos' hesitation, Maruti clarified, "No matter where, when or for whatever reason it may be, while I am still alive, should the Warrior or the Warrior's descendants blow on this conch shell, I will be there at their service before its echoes fade into the wind."

Kratos frowned upon hearing that declaration. "That is not necessary."

"On the contrary! It is absolutely necessary!" Maruti argued. "It is unfortunate that I am a'ready bound by my pledge to Lord Ram to aid him in his battle against the Kingdom of Lanka. Otherwise, I would have bound myself to the Warrior's serv'tude immediately!"

Maruti shook his head frantically and added, "If the Warrior refuses to take the shell, then the only solution is for me to stay with the Warrior should he need my services…"

Kratos' hand shot out and grabbed the shell out of Maruti's extended palms. "There! I have taken it. Now go!"

The monkey wore an elated smile and bowed deeply. "I await your call!"

Without hesitation, he broke off into a sprint and burst into the air.

"You lost yourself a capable servant," Brahma mocked as they observed Maruti's figure shrinking into an imperceptible dot and disappearing into the sky.

"Annoying," Kratos responded with a growl. He stared thoughtfully at the conch shell in his palm before storing it in his satchel.

"That was some adventure, though," Brahma commented. "I did not think we would get to meet any of the three brothers again. The reunion could have been under better circumstances…"

Kratos remained silent.

"What do you think… Kratos?" Brahma probed. "Should we have remained to help Ravana?"

"No," Kratos answered decisively. "I should not have involved myself with that monkey in the first place. It is fortunate that Ravana did not pursue my interference any further."

As they arrived close to the portal leading to the peak of Kailasha, Kratos halted.

"Taking any side in a war is a difficult decision. Any action can cascade with many consequences," he said solemnly. "My single interference resulted in the removal of a key figure in Ravana's army: his son and the Crown Prince. The balance has shifted. From where I stood, the decision appeared straightforward. Taking a step back, and after knowing more about the situation, I do not know if I can make the same judgment."

He let his thoughts hang in the air for a moment and took a step through the portal.

Standing atop the tallest tree in the area, hidden within its branches and leaves, Murugan was struggling to come to terms with the sight before him.

Although he wasn't a genius like his brother, his mental faculties were far advanced compared to mortals. So it did not take long for him to grasp the language spoken by the survivors in these forsaken lands.

"Thrust it like you mean it!" A grizzled man, with one arm and an eye missing, bellowed to the rows of young boys before him. Scrawny, yet carrying a face hardened with resolve, the boys pulled back the ramshackle spears in their grasps and thrust it forward in unison.

"One more!" He yelled, and the boys drilled forward with a united, "HA!"

He then curled his lower lip under his upper incisors and let out a shrill whistle. "Dismissed!"

The boys stood taut in attention and yelled, "Sir, yes, sir!" and marched out.

All this was familiar. But their next actions were the cause of Murugan's current predicament.

The boys reformed into a single column and marched toward the far end of the clearing. Murugan's eyes followed them as they approached a thick tree with gnarled roots and broad, spreading branches.

In its shade, there was a stone idol that appeared rough and weathered. The carving was crude. The proportions were slightly off. But Murugan could not mistake what - or rather, who - it depicted. Well, it was the single golden-coloured spear in the statue's grasp that gave it away.

The statue was him.

Murugan's grip on the branch tightened.

The boys formed a line before the idol. Their faces softened with reverence. The grizzled instructor stepped forward and knelt on one knee. The boys followed and dropped to their knees in perfect unison.

Then, with voices that rang clear through the clearing, they shouted:

"Praise to the Golden Spear!"

"Praise to the Golden Spear!" they shouted again, and Murugan watched them bow until their foreheads touched the dirt.

"May He guard our backs," the instructor intoned.

"May His Spears never miss," the boys responded.

"May the War God grant us the power to protect what must be protected!"

After the echoes of their prayers settled, they stood up and dispersed from the area. Once he was certain that he was alone, Murugan descended from the tree and approached his facsimile.

"Huh…" he expressed with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

"Yeah… I should probably leave…" he concluded.

As he turned, his eyes landed on a wicker basket by the idol's side.

He leaned in and confirmed its contents: iron. An impromptu rite of passage for these teens was selecting an iron ore cluster and forging their own spear. Iron was a scarce resource, especially since any permanent resource harvesting fixture was a liability in these perilous and nomadic lands.

Murugan reached into the basket and picked up two of the largest ore clusters.

He then whistled for his mount.

Before his peacock could make landfall, he leapt up and mounted it.

"Time to go," he commanded.

The peacock beat its enormous wings and carried him away from the forsaken lands. They soared high into the sky and travelled out over a vast, unending ocean.

The rhythmic rush of the wind offered a brief moment of peace, but then a strange disruption on the water's surface caught his attention. Murugan leaned over his mount's neck and peered down at the ocean.

His eyes widened in surprise.

The skies of Svarga cracked again as something burst through unhindered. Following the first incident, caused by the mischievous spiritual offspring of Vayu, the realm had been further augmented to reduce the cascading catastrophic effects of such a breach. Technically, very few entities could cross realm barriers, and it was also impossible to completely block traversal between realms. Vayu and those with his blessing were amongst the few with unfettered access, as it was a trait that came as part of the element under his purview. After all, air was pervasive, and thus so was Vayu.

As a result of the precautionary measures in place, Svarga didn't quake as it did before. Nonetheless, Indra was still irritated by the unannounced interruption to the peace in his realm.

He snapped his fingers and called over a Palace servant. "Which pest dare intrude into Svarga?!"

The servant bowed low and responded, "Answering to His Highness. It appears to be Lord Murugan."

Indra swallowed the subsequent tirade dancing at the tip of his tongue and let out a long exhale. The authority of the King of Devas didn't mean much. Especially since a youngster a fraction of his age could burst in and out of his realm, and he could do absolutely nothing about it.

He cradled his forehead and waved the servant away.

The "intruder" in question swerved away from the Palace, towards a far corner of the realm. His destination was a peculiar spot.

Svarga, by its very nature, was an abstraction given form - a concept coaxed into shape and bestowed with a trait. But there existed corners of the realm where an additional layer of abstraction lingered, or perhaps, where the original abstraction had never fully hardened into definition. It was the shape before the shape. The thought before the word. Murugan's destination was one such place - a pocket of super-abstraction that still resisted the weight of form.

One would assume that such a place would be uninhabited. After all, what individual could dwell in a realm that refused to be defined? Yet this super-abstract corner of Svarga was not empty. It was home to a very particular individual. The architect of Svarga itself resided here. It was his mind that had birthed the environment - coaxed structure from randomness, meaning from emptiness. And for a consciousness so relentlessly active, so ceaselessly generative, his mere presence turned the world around him abstract. Reality bent to accommodate the friction of his thoughts.

Murugan dove into the abstract mess before him. The moment he passed the event horizon, all sense of direction dissipated.

"Lord Vishwakarma, I request your audience!" He yelled, or at least the mess of shapes that represented his mouth vibrated.

In an instant, the abstract chaos stilled, and a pathway of order appeared before Murugan. A flat circular area appeared before him, wide enough for his peacock to land. And at the end of the area stood a man garbed in plain, unassuming robes - the kind a common artisan might wear.

Murugan landed a few paces before the man and alighted. He gave a respectful bow and approached.

"What brings the Warrior of Kailasha to my workshop?" The man spoke with a calm baritone voice that was devoid of embellishment.

Murugan revealed a wry smile and said, "Calling me a warrior is a bit much, don't you think?"

"That is who you are, objectively," Vishwakarma stated. "My question still stands."

Murugan reached into his bag and pulled out the ore chunks. "I need a shield."

Vishwakarma collected the ores and brought them up to his face. With a sniff, he commented, "These are not from the known realms. They must be imported from beyond the chaos."

"They are from another land," Murugan affirmed. "I require a shield as Guru Dakshina."

"Okay," Vishwakarma said. He did not move. There was an odd silence that stretched for an uncomfortable duration.

"People usually provide more details and specifications of what it is that they need," Vishwakarma hinted.

Murugan nodded and added, "It must be practical."

Vishwakarma waited for more information, but it seemed that the sentence was all he would get.

"Some details about the user, what their preferences are, what it is that they will use this for, whether some enchantments need to be imbued into it… Please Lord Murugan, some verbosity in your response would aid me greatly," He suggested.

Murugan hummed in thought and listed, "My Guru is a great warrior skilled in many weapons, but the shield was the first he learned. So you could say that he is intimate with it. He knows how to use the shield in many different ways apart from just for defence. The shield needs to be useful, so it should be able to block most attacks, be it mundane or divine."

"Most…" Vishwakarma repeated. "Could you elaborate on that?"

"There are Astras that are inherently unblockable unless another Astra of similar or greater power is used. The shield doesn't have to protect against that," Murugan clarified.

"That makes things easier," Vishwakarma commented. "A shield that can block everything is a weapon of unlimited potential that is beyond my ability. But your requirements are within my power."

"As for the fees-" Murugan hinted and reached for his bag, but Vishwakarma stopped him.

"This is a trivial ask compared to what others request from me," Vishwakarma waved. "Though some creativity would very much be welcome."

At this point, an idea formed in Murugan's mind. "What about a condition as follows? The success of a block can be defined as a percentage chance. Depending on the nature of the attack being blocked, the percentage can vary. It will be guaranteed to block a weak attack, but nigh impossible to block an Astra like the Brahmastra; nigh impossible, not completely impossible. Now consider another metric, the ratio of the time between the initiation of a block in response to an attack and the time the attack makes contact. It should range between zero and one, with one being the case that the block is initiated exactly as the attack hits. The closer it is to one, the higher the chance of a successful block. In this way, if the block is initiated exactly as a powerful Astra hits, the chance of success is still low, but higher than if the block was initiated right as the Astra was fired."

Vishwakarma revealed an ecstatic grin and spoke with surprising excitement, "Now that is an interesting challenge!"

He extended his hand and brought them together in one swift motion. As he clapped, the small pocket of rational order deformed into abstract. It remained as such for an unknown duration of time before expanding out again and resuming the original state.

In Vishwakarma's hand, instead of the ore chunks, there was a finely designed yet simple bracer.

"Umm… Isn't the shield… small?" Murugan questioned.

Vishwakarma handed the item to Murugan and said, "The one who is supposed to use it will know how to do so."

With an affirmative nod, Murugan thanked Vishwakarma and left the domain atop his peacock.

Another boom resounded across Svarga as Murugan burst through the barrier between realms and left a miffed Indra massaging his forehead behind.