The ear-splitting scream from the Vasudev resounded loudly in the confines of the dungeon. But this deep, abandoned underground hell-hole, somewhere between Mrittikavati and Devagiri, had not been used in centuries. There was nobody around to hear his screams except for the nervous Meluhan soldiers at the back of the room, who kept praying to Lord Ram, begging for his forgiveness.

The soldier kept robotically hammering away, pushing the nail deep into the Vasudev’s right arm. The Vasudev kept screaming up to a point where his brain simply blocked the pain. He couldn’t feel his arm anymore. His heart was pumping madly, as blood came out in spurts through the gaping injury.

Vidyunmali approached his ear as the Vasudev breathed heavily, trying to focus on his tribe, on his gods, on his vows, on anything except his right arm.

‘Do you need some more persuasion?’ asked Vidyunmali.

The Vasudev looked away, focusing his mind on his chant.

Vidyunmali yanked the nail out, took a wet cloth and wiped the Vasudev’s arm. Then he picked up a small bottle and poured its contents into the wound. It burned deeply, but the Vasudev’s blood clotted almost immediately.

‘I don’t want you to die,’ whispered Vidyunmali. ‘At least not yet...’

Vidyunmali turned towards his soldier and nodded.

‘My Lord,’ whispered the soldier, with tears in his eyes. He had lost count of the number of sins that he was taking upon his soul. ‘Please...’

Vidyunmali glared.

The soldier immediately turned and picked up another bottle. He walked up to the Vasudev and poured some of the viscous liquid into the wound he had inflicted.

Vidyunmali stepped back and returned with a long flint, its edge burning slowly. ‘I hope you see the light after this.’

The Vasudev’s eyes opened wide in terror. But he refused to talk; he knew he couldn’t reveal the secret. It would be devastating for his tribe.

‘Jai... Gu... ru... Vishwa...’

‘Fire will purify you,’ whispered Vidyunmali softly. ‘And you will speak.’

‘...Mitra... Jai... Gu... ru... Vash...’

The dungeon resonated once again with the desperate screams of the Vasudev, as the smell of burning flesh defiled the room.

‘Are you sure?’ asked Parvateshwar.

‘As sure as I can ever be,’ said a smiling Vidyunmali.

Parvateshwar took a deep breath.

He knew that it was Shiva who led the massive fleet of ships that had just sped past Devagiri two weeks back. Parvateshwar suspected that Shiva was sailing north to pick up Ganesh’s army and bring them back to Devagiri. He had also received reports about the delays faced by Ganesh’s army as they marched through the washed-out Ganga-Yamuna Road. It would probably take a month for Shiva to return to Devagiri, along with the hundred and fifty thousand soldiers in Ganesh’s army.