As if offended, the Iron Curfew exploded. Flame-wreathed rocks scattered as a section of the Iron Curfew broke apart with thunderous reverberations. Then came another explosion and a blinding flash. The cracked section of the Wall was now lay flattened in a wave. Stone and earth rattled down like unseasonal hail over the ash-layered rubble of the Curfew

Shishupal threw himself down on the floor, his desire to look tough beside the Yaksha greatly outweighed by his desire to stay alive. He didn’t hear the thunderous sounds of the double detonations until some time later, because for some reason sound is slower than seeing. A vast crater now yawned between the jagged edges where the impregnable Iron Curfew had been breached. On either side of the vast crater the Curfew stretched, apparently oblivious it had been violated. Ash rode the breeze in playful abandon.

And then sounds of cracking filled the air. Shishupal turned in a trance towards the Keep that was connected to the Curfew. Cracks spread out on its walls like the greedy tentacles of a kraken. And then, before his disbelieving eyes, the Keep slowly toppled and slid onto the ground. Stones rained down from the titling Keep, pinging onto the roofs of houses and into the street below.

‘The beautiful taste of blood, the fragrance of charred flesh, the song of swords and the fruity stink of death,’ Eklavvya chanted, utterly unmoved. ‘Ah battle! And we have prime seats to view it unfold,’ he said as he wiped the seat of the stool and languidly sat down.

‘I may be wrong,’ Shishupal said, rubbing the dust from his face as he rose warily to his feet, ‘but I think the Yamuna Wars are at end.’

I

The rain of stones had ceased, finally, and now only dust commanded the sky. The ruined side of the Keep behind them was burning, belching heavy black smoke that was no doubt visible from the farthest point of the walls. Or so Draupadi hoped as she fervently prayed to Prakioni for Hastina to rescue them before it was too late.

She had been one of the first to be rescued from the wreckage of the Keep. Even now, soldiers were escorting members of the War Council to safety, though she could barely see them through the thick veil of dust around her. She could hear little above the cracking and felling of the stone, that still seemed to ring in her ears. All she felt was Bheem’s cruel grip on her wrist.

How did we survive? She dared to look up, and saw the faint outline of the Iron Curfew. The gates were still obstinately shut, but beside it, a section of the Wall had vanished. Instead, a massive hole gaped like the maw of some monster.

‘Time to leave, Draupadi,’ Bheem grumbled.