Anniyur

  A dozen warriors holding torches formed a passage for me and King Niran. We cleared the bushes and beheld the magnificent Anniyur fort—the largest on the island—perched atop a broken hill. Its moat was wider than any lake I knew, and the gleaming eyes of hungry crocodiles tracked our approach. The ramparts loomed far off; from them, warriors unrolled the great drawbridge. Torches blazed from a hundred rooms while a thousand spear shafts glinted along the walls. Slowly, the hundred-foot bridge descended, and the sacred Mallari music rose to greet us.

  “King Niran, this is unnecessary.”

  “The future emperor’s entrance must be proper, my prince.”

  I exhaled in disappointment and urged Thejan forward across the moat.

  The Mallari was divine: fifteen musicians, five instruments, led by the long double-reed Natha, accompanied by the deep pulse of the Thavi barrel drum and two singers chanting the glories of the Chakra dynasty. Never before had I been welcomed with Mallari.

  Anniyur had only recently been annexed to the Chakra empire; tales still lingered of the cruel war fought within these very walls. As I passed beneath the rampart gate, my eye caught a stone carving of a man.

  “That is Pulik, my uncle,” Niran said quietly. “Our allied forces overthrew him and crowned the rightful heir—me.”

  I surveyed the fortress: the vast moat, the towering walls, the gates. In a hundred years I could never devise a way to storm this place.

  “What are you studying so intently, my grace?”

  “I am wondering how my father ever managed to take it.”

  Niran’s face darkened; he lowered his head, remembering one of the bloodiest battles in the island’s history.

  “It was your brother, my grace.”

  My hands trembled. “Explain.”

  “All the victory poems composed for your brother were burned after he went … . I will thank him every day I live. He saved my life countless times in that war. His emerald-stone crown, his twin swords—he cut down twenty men right here before my eyes. The gods will never forgive me for hiding his glory, but I could not disobey the emperor’s command.”

  “Do not torment yourself, my lord. I am glad to learn more about him. I still remember the day he returned from the war of Anniyur. I was five. It is one of my earliest memories… I miss him.”

  The great drums rolled, announcing our names. Queen Narthaka waited to welcome me. I handed Thelan to the guards and joined the feast.

  “Forgive us, my prince. Had we known you were coming, the banquet would have been grander.”

  Still, ten kinds of meat, mountains of desserts, and the long-grained rice unique to Anniyur filled the tables.

  When the meal ended, the hall became a theatre. The Sasir dancers entered—devoted women offered to the crown at puberty, an ancient and cruel custom. Kings might choose any for their harem. Niran watched with obvious pleasure; my respect for him withered.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Please grace our court again tomorrow, prince.”

  “Then I must head to sleep.” He summoned a servant woman to lead me to my chamber.

  I drew back the curtains and found a beautiful woman adorned with layered necklaces, silk wrapped around her breasts, a pink saree pooling at her feet.

  “Who are you?”

  “I am Nima, sent by the king to attend to your night needs.” She began removing her jewellery.

  I caught her hand gently. “You may leave, Nima.”

  Her eyes sparkled with tears; she bowed and retreated to the doorway.

  “Long live my emperor! May I ask one question?”

  I nodded, sitting on the bed.

  “The king… he is harsh to the poor. For small crimes he metes out terrible punishments. Unwed women are sentenced to the Sasir for life; men are sent to the Ellai force.”

  “The Ellai force?”

  “A border guard he created to hold back Ankala. It is a sentence without end.”

  She left. I stepped onto the balcony. Below lay the impregnable fortress, its moat alive with crocodiles, torches marking the distant line where Chakra ended and Ankala began. A long stretch of bush separated the realms, patrolled by the Ellai forces; only a narrow cleared corridor remained—the night-guarded trade route. Piles of paddy waited by wagons for the morning. That would be my path out.

  “My prince!”

  I turned. “As if you ever wait for permission. Come in, Batra.”

  I embraced my friend—son of King Niran and my old classmate from the gurukulam.

  “So you sent Nima away? We have no empress here to keep you company.”

  “You never change.” I laughed. “What kept you?”

  He joined me on the balcony and pointed to a smaller fort some distance away. “That is the Ellai fort. I command it.”

  “You people do love building forts.”

  “We heard about her request,” he said carefully. “Do you truly think she will help you?”

  “She may or may not. But I ask the same of you now—will you help me?”

  He dropped to one knee, palm on chest, head bowed. “Anything, my lord.”

  “Rise.” I handed him two sealed scrolls. “Ride to the Chenna river and deliver this to King Aadhi. He will send my cousin Bila with you. Together you will travel far to the right, to the kingdom of Vakkanam.”

  “To that fisherman's king Kariyan? We never got along in gurukulam.”

  “Give him this sealed scroll and watch what he does upon the seas. You sail two days after I leave this fort.”

  “Understood. Sleep now. We will meet in court tomorrow.”

  I rose before dawn. Nima brought silk garments and pearl jewellery as Niran had ordered. In the royal courtyard I found the king praying before the statue of Ponni Devi.

  “Do not be surprised, prince. We too worship Ponni Devi. Once my ancestors ruled her river and delta—until Ankala stole them. One day they will be ours again, perhaps not in my lifetime or my son’s, but one day. I rejoiced when our emperor spiked Aravan’s head and marched here… only to give the empire to his daughter. A move that stunned us all. But come—see this.”

  He opened a large wooden box. Inside lay a Chakra-sigiled sword—one of my brother’s twin blades.

  “I will give it to you on the day you are crowned prince.”

  It was exquisite Wutz steel, the rarest and hardest, able to slice through lesser blades.

  “May I?”

  “Of course.”

  I prayed to Ponni Devi, lifted the sword in my right hand, and spun it once. Perfectly balanced.

  Niran’s jaw fell. “It took three warriors to place it in that box. You are every bit the swordsman they claim, my prince.”

  I smiled, returned the blade, and we walked to court.

  Drums rolled, court music swelled. The hall was ringed with chieftains from every village and town. Three thrones stood at the centre; I took the one to the king’s right. Nima waved the royal peacock fan behind us.

  Batra nudged me. “Look—there.”

  “Who is she?”

  “My future queen”, but Father calls her a commoner. You must speak to him.”

  “She does not look like a commoner.”

  “Her father is only a merchant. Please, help me.”

  “Later. Not here. I will speak at my crowning in the capital.”

  The court turned to judging commoners. Niran sentenced one after another to the Ellai force.

  “Easy, king,” I murmured.

  Batra glared at me, then whispered fiercely, “No one else guards the border. We alone protect thousands of kaadams of land from Ankala. This is how we find men.”

  “Calm yourself, Batra. I will see to it.”

  The session ended. Niran rose.

  “Thank you for honouring my court, my prince. Stay a few days more, I beg you.”

  “I cannot. Duty calls me onward.”

  He glanced at his son. “Aid our prince in all things. Guard him to the border post.”

  He departed.

  Batra grinned. “You have never even visited the post, my prince—nor Chendurai, I wager.”

  “This will be my nineteenth time in Chendurai. And you? Nineteen hundred, perhaps?”

  I mounted Thelan. Batra rode with me to the border post. There I crossed into Ankala disguised as a commoner, bound for Chendurai, the enemy’s capital.