Rajiv Menon -- ThunderGod Read online

  westland ltd

  THUNDERGOD

  Before setting out on a writing career, Rajiv G Menon was an actor, occasional screenwriter, traveller and beach bum. A voracious reader since childhood, he was fascinated by stories and characters from Indian, Greek and Norse mythology. Thundergod was born as a result of that fascination.

  THUNDERGOD

  The Ascendance of Indra

  Rajiv G Menon

  westland ltd

  Venkat Towers, 165, P.H. Road, Maduravoyal, Chennai 600 095

  No. 38/10 (New No.5), Raghava Nagar, New Timber Yard Layout, Bangalore 560 026

  Survey No. A-9, II Floor, Moula Ali Industrial Area, Moula Ali, Hyderabad 500 040

  23/181, Anand Nagar, Nehru Road, Santacruz East, Mumbai 400 055

  4322/3, Ansari Road, Daryaganj, New Delhi 110 002

  First published in India by westland ltd 2012

  Copyright (c) Rajiv G Menon 2012

  All rights reserved

  ISBN: 978-93-81626-97-9

  Typeset in 10.5/13 pts. Goudy Old Style by SURYA, New Delhi

  Cover Illustration by Aditya Chari chariaditya.blogspot.in

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, circulated, and no reproduction in any form, in whole or in part (except for brief quotations in critical articles or reviews) may be made without written permission of the publishers.

  To my grandmother Sowdamini Menon,

  for introducing me to the fascinating world of mythology

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Nirmala Gopalakrishnan, my mother, for her unwavering trust and support in allowing me to pursue my passion.

  My father, K.P. Gopalakrishnan, for inculcating in me my reading habit, a gift whose true value I have finally come to realise now.

  Dimple, my wife and rock, without whose strength and support I would never be able to do what I do.

  My son Vir, for asking the right questions; I hope someday he'll read this and agree that Indra is 'cooler' than Hercules.

  Paul and Deepthi at Westland, for giving direction to my flight of fancy.

  Sameer 'Daddy' Malhotra for, well . . . just being himself.

  My friends and family--I cannot thank you'll enough for being there for me through the years. Lots of love and gratitude to you all.

  ***

  1

  It was a full moon night. Mount Meru stood out amidst the glistening summits of the mighty Himalayas, a colossal dark rock surrounded by snow-capped peaks. At the top of the mountain a man sat in deep meditation. The heat generated from his tapas had melted the snow off the peak. Around him a blizzard raged, the thick snowflakes struck his naked chest and melted away, sizzling. His face was calm, devoid of any emotion. He was completely oblivious to the fury of the elements around him.

  In spite of the rigours of his intense meditation, his body was in extremely good physical condition. The thick muscles and the scars on his chest and arms revealed a martial past. His long, white hair and beard thrashed about in the stiff breeze. Suddenly something seemed to have disturbed him and a furrow appeared on his brow.

  Deep in his subconscious mind, a vision had come to him.

  It was a bright summer's day on a cliff face of red sandstone. On a tiny ledge a few metres from the top, a young peregrine took its first steps out of its nest. It balanced carefully at the edge of the precipice for a few seconds as it felt the breeze ruffle the feathers of its crest. Then with a screech of excitement, it launched itself into the void.

  From the ledge, the father watched the little bird as it vigorously flapped its wings trying to slow its downward descent, then the panic settled and instinct took over. Its tiny wings soon found a rhythm and the little falcon began to fly. Before long it found a thermal column and began to soar upwards along with the rising air. The father watched proudly from his perch on the cliff face. He had lost his mate to a hunter's arrow a few days ago, and this had made him wary. Suddenly a glint of something shiny on the ground caught his attention. With a screech he swooped down into the trees.

  On the ground below, a group of hunters drew their bowstrings, all attention on the young falcon. In a land where game was scarce, another hunter meant more competition for the limited resources. From the corner of his eyes, one of the hunters saw a shadow flit across the sky. He looked up and saw the adult bird drop like a giant arrow towards them. He shouted a warning to the others.

  The falcon felt the trees come up rapidly around him as he brought his talons to bear. The hunters turned their attention towards the bigger bird and a volley of arrows crashed into it.

  The falcon's body, wings still spread, crashed into the hunters and knocked a couple of them off their feet. Its talons caught one of them in the face and gouged one of his eyeballs out. The hunter screamed in agony, rattling the nerves of his comrades. The leader recovered quickly and shouted at the others to prepare for another chance at the young falcon. Suddenly, a giant eagle appeared. It placed itself directly in the path of their arrows as it swooped down on them. The hunters hesitated for one brief second, in shock. An older falcon protecting its young was natural, but in this harsh environment where prey was scant, they had never seen one species of predator rush to protect another. That split second was all that the eagle needed; it broke off its attack and disappeared above the canopy.

  The young falcon now soared high, far removed from any threat from below. Even as it flew, it started to grow bigger and bigger. Its dark brown plumage started to change into bright gold. From below, the old male eagle watched in amazement as the young falcon grew and grew till it slowly began to eclipse the sun.

  On the mountain, the man's head rocked back, his eyes opened wide, amazed at the clarity of the vision. Slowly, the man called Mitra gathered his belongings while he pondered over its meaning and made his way down the steep mountain slope.

  ***

  Lit by the full moon and a million stars, the magnificent city-state of Susa shone like a jewel among the barren plains of Central Asia. Within its giant walls of sandstone lived twenty thousand souls, the greatest congregation of humanity in the world. The city was a marvel of its age, with its own water supply, sewage system, tree-lined avenues paved with cobblestones and beautiful gardens. These were interspersed with rows of stone houses in which the citizens lay fast asleep, completely oblivious to the omen that had shown up in the night sky above them.

  In the middle of the city stood a gigantic structure that outstripped even the beautiful royal palace of Susa in its splendour. It was a magnificent ziggurat that reached out high into the heavens, a temple erected to honour Ishtar, the living goddess of Susa.

  That night, Ishtar, daughter of the moon, stood atop her temple and stared out into the distance towards the northeast. One particular star caught her attention; it shone a little brighter than all the rest. Even as she watched, a tiny black hole appeared in its centre. Her beautiful face now wore a troubled expression as she saw the hole rapidly increase in size, till it engulfed the star and swallowed it whole. Ishtar opened her arms wide; her pale green eyes had a wild, vacant expression as she began to chant fervently. A glow started to appear in the middle of her chest, just below her beautiful breasts. Slowly it spread through her exquisitely-shaped naked body till it shone with an incandescence that could be seen for miles across the barren plains. It cast a warm protective glow over her adopted city.

  A thousand miles away, in the direction of her gaze lay the Karakum Desert, one of the most desolate places on earth. A man and woman lay beside each other on a sand dune and stared up into the million stars that lit up the desert sky. The man brushed his long, blond hair off his fac
e as he gazed up at the heavens. His features were sharp, almost perfect, as if chiselled from sandstone by a brilliant sculptor. Yet, closer examination revealed something in the deep recesses of those bright blue eyes, a certain wildness that made his countenance more fearful than attractive. His heavily-muscled torso, covered with numerous scars inflicted by shaft and blade, gleamed with a light sheen of perspiration.

  Raja Daeyus, chief of the Deva clan, turned to the woman who lay next to him. Her beautiful face was tilted up to the starlit sky; her hair cascaded around her shoulders in a thick, dark cloud. She looked straight ahead, hugged her knees to her chest and rocked gently on her back. Her bronzed body, bathed in starlight, shone against the white desert sand.

  Daeyus lay back on the sand and shut his eyes. He was glad to be alive. The last six months had been taxing to say the least. Yet they had more than accomplished their seemingly impossible mission and managed to put down most of the Scythian rebellion. Only one tribe, the Saka, still offered any semblance of resistance. Till about five days ago, the Deva campaign against them had been fairly successful. They had drawn the Saka away to the northwest and cut them off from their regular supply lines. Just when it had seemed that victory was finally theirs for the taking, their luck ran out. Daeyus and his men were caught in a violent desert storm.

  For three days and nights the Devas waited. Crouched behind their horses, they prayed for nature's fury to abate. The sand was everywhere, in their eyes, their noses and their lungs. When they had just about reached the end of their tether, on the third night, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the sandstorm was gone. The desert was still again.

  At dawn, Daeyus, along with his two commanders Vasu and Krupa, surveyed the situation. It was critical to say the least; their water reserves were long gone. In addition to this, the sand dunes had shifted, completely changing the topography of the land. They had no idea where they were or in which direction they should go to find water. Only of one thing they were certain: somewhere in the vast dunes, the Saka, the last and most feared of the Scythian tribes, lay in wait for them.

  The Deva chief turned to the east, shut his eyes, and said a quick prayer to Surya, the Sun God. Just as he opened his eyes, he saw her, astride a huge black stallion, silhouetted against the rising sun. Her long, black hair and robes flowed in the morning breeze as she reined in her steed and indicated for them to follow her.

  A captivated Daeyus threw caution to the winds and rode off behind the woman. For two days and nights the Devas rode behind their raja and the mystery woman. Although consumed by doubt, they did not once question his judgment or decision. They simply called upon their last reserves of strength and braved the scorching sun and sands. At long last, on the third morning, sunrise revealed the tall palms of the Oasis of Illum. Daeyus looked around for the woman, but she was gone.

  The raja chose his campsite well within the tree line, so there would be no indication to anyone who arrived from the desert that the oasis was inhabited. The exhausted men watered and fed the horses and spent the hottest part of the day asleep in the shade of the trees.

  It was almost dark when Daeyus awoke with a start. He wondered what it was that had so suddenly woken him. In the air, there lingered a strange, alluring perfume. The place was deathly quiet except for the occasional snoring of one of his men. He walked round the perimeter of the camp and inspected the defences. The sentries he had posted were all fast asleep.

  Daeyus drew his sword and looked around, all his senses on alert. His men never slept on duty. He suspected this to be some kind of Scythian sorcery. He slowly made his way towards the edge of the tree line. As he stepped into the desert, he saw her. She stared at him, her dark eyes filled with longing. The wind swept her robe aside and Daeyus caught a glimpse of her bronzed, voluptuous body. It took his breath away; he dropped his sword and started to run.

  Gaia watched as this beautiful man came towards her, then she rushed forward to meet his embrace and together they fell on the dune. Their hands worked feverishly as they tore at each other's clothing. No words were exchanged between them as their lips found each other; none were necessary. Their coupling was swift, savage and intense. Gaia moved her hips and matched him thrust for thrust as she drove him wild with desire.

  Daeyus had been totally unprepared for the pleasure he now experienced. His previous amorous escapades had been with either scared, eager to please slave girls, or with the grieving widows of his vanquished enemies. This was incredible; not only did this woman treat him as an equal she now challenged him to match her in intensity. The weariness of the last few days was gone as the raja thrust with the ferocity of a bull. Then, suddenly, she threw her head back, ground her hips into his pelvis and screamed at the top of her lungs.

  Wave after wave of pleasure crashed into her body and threatened to completely overwhelm her. She heard a growl escape his throat as she felt the heat of his seed deep within her. She smiled as his body stiffened and he collapsed in a heap on top of her. She cupped his hard buttocks in her hands and pulled him closer. She held on for a few moments and then her grip relaxed.

  Gaia opened her eyes; the intense joy she had felt was gone now, replaced by a hint of anxiety. Slowly she came to terms with what had just happened. She gently pushed him off her and did not look in his direction or say a word. There would be consequences for her actions; of this she was certain. Gaia was an Elemental who drew her powers from the earth. It was forbidden for her kind to consort with humans or any other earthly beings. She wondered why, when she could have had her pick of the gods, it was this beautiful savage that had drawn her attention. But it had been worth it; every glorious moment had been a memory she could treasure. He had made love to her with the passion of one who did not know if he would live to see another day. Something she could never expect from a god.

  She had watched him for months as he battled the insurmountable odds that a resilient enemy and the uncompromising desert had thrown at him. Through it all there had been an unwavering, god-like strength to his spirit that had reached out across the ether and drawn her to him.

  Now Gaia, Earth Goddess, knew there was nothing she could do but await the judgment of the Elders. She smiled as she felt a pleasant sensation in her womb; it was the warmth of his seed. She turned to her lover as he slept, gently placed her head on his chest, and closed her eyes as she listened to the beating of his heart.

  ***

  On the ziggurat at Susa, Ishtar dropped her arms and shut her eyes. Her light dimmed as her body took on its normal form. She looked down at the sprawling city that lay beneath her, lost in thought about the events she had just witnessed.

  In keeping with the laws of the Cosmos, every great act of destruction preceded an equally powerful act of creation. This night she had witnessed both, and she was troubled. The death of the star could only mean one thing; the forbidden sexual act that she had witnessed just after would produce a life force so powerful that, if left unchecked, it could destroy the prevalent order in the world and create a new one. And, as an integral part of the current order, she would have to do everything in her power to ensure that such an event did not come to pass. She had recognised both participants of the unholy union she had just witnessed. While she knew she had no power over the woman, the man's fate was very much under her control.

  Braega, high priest of Susa, stood behind the goddess. He kept his gaze down, trying not to stare at her lovely body. Her unblemished skin was the colour of pale ivory. He tried to keep his trembling hands steady as he stepped forward and draped a blue robe over those exquisitely-shaped shoulders.

  Ishtar turned to him, her beauty now had a cold edge to it and a dark shadow lurked behind her pale green eyes. Braega hurriedly averted his gaze. His discomfort did not go unnoticed by the goddess; she took her time to draw the robe across her bare breasts. She liked the effect her naked body had on men; it completely disarmed them and robbed them of their wits.

  'What news do you have of this Deva,
the one who is called Daeyus?'

  Braega had no love for the Devas and their savage ways. He replied with all the dignity he could muster.

  'The king has sent the barbarian to quell the Scythian rebellion in the Karakum Desert.'

  Ishtar allowed herself a smile.

  'A clever ploy, I must admit. Shalla conserves the strength of his own army by hiring these barbarians to do his dirty work. Do you think this man will be successful in his mission?'

  Braega's reply was scornful. He could not fathom the interest his goddess had in Daeyus and his boorish band of thugs.

  'It is unlikely that they will return from this task. The Scythians and their horses are born and raised in that hellish desert; they will slowly but surely wipe out these barbarians.'

  Ishtar probed further.

  'Shalla knew this and yet he sent them out to die.'

  The high priest chuckled. 'It was a political masterstroke on the part of the king. In one move, he has taken care of his enemies and removed a potential threat. These barbarians will weaken the Scythian tribes considerably before they perish. There will be no Scythian raid on our lands for some time to come.'

  Ishtar was thoughtful; the overconfidence of the Elamites would be their undoing. But she could not allow that to happen as long as it was within her power.

  'How can you be so sure of the outcome? The bravery and military prowess of the Devas are already legendary. It has come to my attention that they have many admirers even within these walls.'

  Braega allowed himself another little chuckle.

  'Divine excellency! The sands of the Karakum are littered with the bones of countless such brave men. Let me assure you, even if the Devas do return, they will be in no position to challenge the might of Elam.'