Page 27 of The Prince Without Sorrow

Chapter Twenty-Six

Shakti

E NTERING T HE C OLLECTIVE WAS EASIER THIS TIME. E YES closed, Shakti sat on her bed and leaned against the cold wall in a meditative pose and let herself relax. Having her mind become empty was near-impossible but focusing on the breath helped lessen any extraneous thoughts and outside noise. At least the hubbub of the palace was diminished in the dead night. Then, when she felt that inevitable tug and grasped the thread, she forced herself to think not of Adil, but of Emperor Ashoka.

‘Well done.’ She heard his voice first. When Shakti opened her eyes, she found that, for once, she hadn’t arrived in the throne room. This time, her surroundings were natural: a mountaintop where grey fog shrouded her ankles, deep green foliage and bright-coloured flowers intermingled with lifeless vines and dead tree stumps with dried-out, glossy sap. The emperor stood beneath a vibrant Na tree, his dark eyes welcoming, the golden circlet blinding. ‘You have called me, Shakti.’

She didn’t respond at first, instead drinking in the environment around her. Being stuck inside the royal palace had deprived her of the natural world, and this was a pleasant change despite it being in her mind. Odd though, that there was such a prominent display of life and death here. ‘Emperor Ashoka,’ she greeted him finally. ‘Where are we?’

‘The Mountain of Rebirth,’ the emperor replied. ‘A place that holds many memories for me.’

Ah. So, this was where the Maurya family’s ashes were scattered.

‘What kind of memories?’ she asked.

‘Ones of my youth,’ he replied. As usual, there was no further explanation. ‘Why have you called me, Shakti?’

‘I come with a request,’ she said, and stepped towards him. ‘I wish for you to guide me through a dream invasion, Emperor Ashoka.’

He did not hesitate. ‘As you wish,’ he said. ‘Picture the target in your mind’s eye.’

Pleased by his compliance, Shakti thought of Emperor Arush, his bulky frame and his harsh features. The same ruby-studded circlet around his head. Once his image was seared into her mind, Shakti felt a strange sensation take over her. It was like a hundred pinpricks were stabbing at her back.

When she opened her eyes, the emperor was not there. She could no longer see the Mountain of Rebirth. Instead, she was viewing a scene through something akin to a translucent globe. As if she were a teller of prophecy and fortune peering through her glass ball.

She saw Arush through this glass. He charged through a battlefield on a giant leopard, arms swinging swords that cut through flesh like they were sun-softened, bruised mangos. He held onto his saddle through core strength alone. Blood spurted from the necks and chests of his opponents in a manner that could only be described as comical. Splatters covered his brown cheeks, his armour, his leopard. Poor creature, being forced to fight battles it did not have to fight.

This was Arush’s dream . Even in his sleep, he dreamed of violence. How like Adil he was.

Will yourself into the dream , Emperor Ashoka’s voice whispered to her.

‘As myself?’ she asked aloud. That would be far too strange, even for her.

As anyone , the emperor’s voice replied. Simply will it to be so.

Who could she appear as, that Arush would not find jarring? There was only one person. Shakti thought of Emperor Adil and thrust herself into the dream. It felt as if she were pushing through a wall of cotton. It was unsettling but posed little difficulty.

When she glanced down at her hands, Shakti was surprised to see them thicker, hairier, and corded with lean muscle. Gently, she touched her head and felt the phantom sensation of a circlet pressed against her forehead.

She was Emperor Adil.

Soldiers on giant leopards whipped past her, but she was unharmed. They were ghosts, as was she. Slowly, she approached Arush from the opposing side, arms stretched wide.

‘Son,’ she said loudly, caught off-guard by Adil’s voice booming out of herself. That would take some time to get used to. ‘How well you fight.’

The dreamscape shuttered at her words. All movement halted. Leopards paused in their charge. Atop his steed, Arush was the only one who moved. His eyes widened when he caught sight of her – no, Adil – coming towards him.

‘Father?’ he asked, voice full of wonderment. With incredible speed, he descended from his leopard. When Shakti stopped just in front of him, Arush got on his knees and touched both hands to her feet as a sign of respect. ‘How glad I am to see you.’

‘And I you, my son,’ she replied, touching the crown of his head. It felt odd to portray herself as an elder. ‘Whom do you fight?’

Even she could not tell. The Ran Empire fought against the mayakari, but these soldiers were not just women. Arush, too, appeared to be confused despite it being his own dream.

‘I—’ he began and looked around as if to clarify for himself. ‘I fight the south. The mayakari. For you.’

Shakti tilted her head to her left to gesture to a dead man with an arrow protruding from his chest. ‘This is not a mayakari, my son,’ she said. ‘Who is it that you fight for in my name?’

Emperor Ashoka had said the weak-minded could be easily influenced, and it seemed that Arush was a surprisingly easy pick. At her words, she saw tendrils of white dust snake along the ground, falling from the sky and covering the dead like a smattering of powdered sugar.

‘I fight...’ Arush began to say but stopped when the terrain around them changed.

Beneath her feet, the ground was as white as the feathers of a dove, stretching to where the ground met the grey sky. Sunlight did not shine brightly here like it did in the Ran Empire. It was partially blocked by grim, ash-coloured clouds. Dark sprigs of grass jutted out of the snow, not quite dead but not quite alive. Mountains began to form, but they were blurred, half-finished. Arush could not picture it in its entirety, but she knew what this was. The Frozen Lands, or what seemed to look like them as it appeared like an unfinished painting. Arush would not have seen the terrain for himself, she realized. He could only imagine what it looked like based on drawings or from second-hand accounts.

The change in Arush’s mood was potent – Shakti could sense it. There was a deep yearning here, an unshakeable desire. A want.

‘You wish to conquer the Frozen Lands,’ she said. Arush didn’t look her in the eyes when he nodded his assent.

Focus placed to the north would relieve the south. ‘Brilliant,’ Shakti told him, smiling. ‘A conqueror’s heart.’

Snow dusted Arush’s dark hair as he stared at her, appearing somewhat confused. ‘Do you speak the truth, father?’ he asked.

‘What do I gain from lying, son?’ she replied.

A smile lit up Arush’s face. So unaware. So foolish. So easy to manipulate.

Here, in the dreamscape, Shakti was the emperor.

Grasping Arush’s shoulder, she gestured towards the foggy mountains. ‘Why follow my path when you can create your own?’ she told him. ‘If you wish so badly to conquer the north, there is ample opportunity for you to try.’

‘Really?’ Arush asked. There was a hint of tentativeness, but his voice sounded surer. More confident.

‘Forget the south,’ Shakti said again. ‘Conquer the Frozen Lands. It does not matter how many bodies you send to their deaths. Only make me proud, my son.’