I harnessed Dasharath’s team myself, inspected every turn of the chariot.
Then I watched the bloody sunrise as I waited for the battle to begin.
CHAPTER TEN
THE BATTLEFIELD OVERWHELMED ME.
The horses had been trained for war, but I was unprepared. The moment the archers began shooting, any semblance of my control slipped away. The neat lines of men broke into chaos, assaulting my senses. The screams of men dying, the scent of blood—it churned my stomach and slackened my grip dangerously. I forgot my lessons with Yudhajit and my drills with Ashwasen. I breathed through my mouth, trying to get calming air into my lungs, but my body had seized with panic. The horses slowed, making us a target. I watched a few men turn to us, readying their spears. It was this fear that finally penetrated through the haze, somewhat clearing my head.
I spurred the chariot onward, my shaking hands pulling the horses into an arc. Dasharath leaned out of the bay, the powerful strokes of his khanda cutting through three of Sambarasura’s men.
“Excellent, Kaikeyi!” he shouted out to me. I would have responded, but the battlefield was rapidly devolving into a tangle I could not parse. As the long yellow grass was trampled into a mess of matted red, as bodies fell and the rising dust coated the men on foot in a haze of gray, it became impossible to discern our formations—let alone who held the upper hand.
The glint of a spear cut toward me. I jerked the reins in a panic, and Dasharath gave a shout of surprise behind me. Icy fear coursed through my veins and shook my hands, and the noise of the battle and sounds of death became too much to bear. I turned this way and that, desperate for a reprieve, and nearly drove our chariot over a group of our own men. An arrow flew past the horses, and although they were well-trained beasts of war, the front horse reared up. I pulled them all in, bringing us to a near standstill, when another arrow came whistling through the air, shearing through my sleeve. I barely felt the sting of it, for I was driving the team forward again, trying to keep my head.
Dasharath, for his part, did not shout angered instructions, but I could feel his frustration radiating from behind me. He threw another spear, but I twisted the chariot at the last moment and we both watched as it went wide.
“I’m sorry!” I shouted, knowing it was absolutely inadequate. Words were meaningless right now; he needed action. I scanned the battlefield, trying to pick out places where our men were struggling or locate Sambarasura’s own chariot, but I was so disoriented that my vision blurred. Tears pricked at my eyes, and I dashed them away with my hand, ignoring the sharp pain in my arm at the motion.
Yet another spear came toward us, and Dasharath dove to one side of the chariot to avoid it for I was too slow. We tilted precariously as I fought for control, both of the team and of myself. An arrow embedded itself in the chariot’s rail next to me. Inches higher, and it would have pierced my husband.
My heart beat so hard I thought I felt faint from the force of it. My failures were putting my husband, my raja, and maybe even my friend in danger. Right now, I was responsible for his life, and I was getting nowhere in this panicked, frenzied state.
So, I stopped.
For just a brief moment, I brought our chariot to a standstill, closed my eyes, and filled my lungs with air. As my heart calmed, I opened my eyes and entered the Binding Plane, muttering the mantra to myself for the first time in years. As I gazed across the battlefield, I saw the faint, gossamer threads that connected me to Dasharath’s men. And I saw the places where there were no threads at all.
I heard Dasharath inhale sharply behind me, but before he could speak, I set us back in motion. This time, I was grounded. Focused. While I could not tell the soldiers apart visually, I used the Binding Plane to steer us to a group of men who lacked any connection to me at all. As we approached, I was able to differentiate their mismatched armor from that of our own soldiers and I let out a bark of triumphant laughter.
Dasharath expertly launched a spear at the man in front, then drew his khanda, slashing with speed and precision. He gave a whoop as his blade connected, and then I pivoted the chariot so that it collided with another two soldiers. Something crunched and I flinched. But Dasharath shouted “Well spotted!” and urged us on.
There was no time to think, let alone to question the way I had just crushed the life out of a man. I blocked out everything but the Plane, seeking out new gaps to pursue. We took down knot after knot of enemy, and I grew more confident, bringing us to the edges of clashes to the aid of our men. My blood sang with the cruel work, and Dasharath’s weapons brutalized Sambarasura’s army.