Storytelling Week 6: Arjuna's Gifts Part 2: Brothers of Sun and Storm

Note: If you have not read Part 1, you might want to do so before proceeding (though it's not totally necessary to understand what's happening here)!

The chariot wheels spun and crackled against the gravel underfoot. Shriveled tufts of shrubbery crunched beneath the relentless charge of the horses. The whip cracked like a pine in a hurricane, and Uttara let out a half-hearted,

"Yah!"

But Arjuna could hear the fear in that nasally cry. He didn't blame the prince, of course. Ahead, his cousin's legions were massing, a darkling storm of leather and metal sweeping across the scrubland. The front lines bore quills like a rearing porcupine, spears and halberds and javelins ready to meet Arjuna's charge. The army was herding the countryside's cattle towards a cliff. Men on horseback killed any stragglers of the herd. By the looks of it they enjoyed their work.

"Despicable," said Arjuna. "Cattle are sacred. To think my cousin would stoop so low . . ." He shook his head.

Arjuna was clothed as himself again, a dazzling sight after his past year in disguise. His coppery skin reflected the sunlight almost as brilliantly as his armor and silver head band. His quiver rippled with a powerful aura like waves of heat upon a scorched desert basin.

"We must make haste, Prince Uttara. Charge into their midst that we may lay them to waste. I don't care if they recognize me or not. For once, my brother Yudhistira is not here to restrain me. I am eager to test out my new powers."

Uttara made a whimpering noise and whipped the reigns. When Arjuna could see the whites of his cousins eyes, he fired.

His first arrow tore through the horde of soldiers like a heat-seeking missile, masterfully skirting the gaps in the crowd to find its mark. Arjuna's arrow struck Duryodhana's pocket through his pleaded leather battle skirt. Instantly, heavy gold coins filled his cousin's loins, overflowing his pants. Surprised, panicked, Duroyodhana turned tail and fled. But he was so weighed down by the coins spewing from his pockets that his horse could no longer support him, and he was forced to make his escape on foot. Weighed down by the pounds and pounds of gold filling his pants, his pace was laughable.

And Arjuna did laugh, as he notched another arrow. Duryodhana's army seethed around the chariot, surrounding them on all sides and blocking his next shot at his cousin. Uttara said: "Arjuna! Arjuna, whom will you shoot first?! Surely the men you can't hit will kill us while you ready your second shot. Oh, woe is me!"

But Arjuna had no need for a second shot. His arrow lurched straight ahead, and in its wake spawned a roaring river, suspended in the air like a liquid serpent. Into this watery corridor Arjuna's chariot charged. It was carried faster by the sheer force of the rapids than any horse could hope to pursue.

They were stopped abruptly when an immovable mass stepped into the river's flow. Arjuna, sensing the imminent crash, leapt out of the moving chariot, contorting backwards in the air and landing on his feet. The chariot, however, was not so lucky. It splintered into a thousand splinters against the gleaming golden obstruction. The river was brought low, no more than a gurgling stream now.

Standing atop it, his fists poised mockingly on his waist, Karna let out a deep, sadistic laugh. "Look how your puny chariot fares against my golden armor, Arjuna. You shall fare no better. Ha! Just look at your poor chariot driver! His own mother would not even recognize him. Ha!"

Karna, in his golden armor

Arjuna regarded the broken body of Uttara. His fists clenched. His jaw tightened. He had never before felt this kind of inner rage.

"Karna," he spat the name. "You will pay for this, and for what you did to my wife. You are no brother of mine."

Arjuna dropped swiftly to one knee and notched his arrow. Karna did the same.

The son of the sun fired his shaft with terrific force. Merely the twang of his bowstring alone was enough to send up a mighty wind. The gust blew through Arjuna's hair, but even then he did not fire a return shot of his own.

Only when Karna's arrow was right in front of him did he make up his mind. He fired, though his arrow missed Karna by a longshot, launching off to his side . . .

And straight into Uttara's back. The prince gasped, his soul burrowing back into his body, returning from the Kingdom of the Dead. He was beaten, he was bloody, but he was alive.

"Uttara! Take Karna's chariot and go after my evil cousin!"

Upon hearing this, Uttara shook the confusion from his head and looked at Arjuna with wide eyes. "My lord! You . . . you're injured!"

Karna's arrow had lodged its way directly into Arjuna's shoulder. Blood was beginning to pool at his feet. He winced through the pain and shouted, "Just go! I'll be fine. This battle has been fated for many years."

Karna let Uttara have his chariot, choosing instead to face his opponent upon even ground. He towered ten feet over Arjuna's head, and was as wide at the shoulders as Arjuna was tall.

Without use of his shoulder, Arjuna dropped the bow, instead favoring his scimitar. Karna held up a scimitar of his own, thrice of the size of Arjuna's, and a golden shield in the shape of the sun.

Their first clash sent up sparks so bright that the army behind them had to avert their eyes. They could only hear the blades rattle against each other, the brittle scrap of metal on metal, the grunts of the two champions locked in fiercesome battle.

Arjuna feinted left then ducked into a forward roll, slashing at Karna's side. His expert arm made easy work of Karna's resplendent armor, and the giant roared of fury and pain. Karna slashed back wildly like a red-eyed bull, yet Arjuna slipped every one of his attacks, delivering precise counter-blows to Karna's ribs, spleen, and underarm. Soon enough his opponent was in tatters. Blood ran slick and sticky down his golden breastplate, rent as it was.

"Enough!" Karna shouted. "I was saving this especially for you, brother." Seemingly out of nowhere, he produced a spear in the shape of a thunderbolt. "A gift," he said with a sinister grin, "from your father, Indra. Unlucky for you, it has fallen into my hands."

Arjuna backed away, forgetting his scimitar in the dirt. It would do him no good. He broke into an all-out sprint toward his mighty bow, Gandiva, but it was still so far away.

"Ha! Don't think that's all. Onto the only weapon that could ever kill you, I will imbibe the Brahmastra, that legendary astra said to extinguish all life. Now die, brother!"

And Karna flung the legendary spear with all his might. It hurtled through the air with the uproar of a thousand thunder strikes. The hairs on Arjuna's neck stood up. Though his back was turned to it and he could not see the prongs, Arjuna felt the scorching hot plasma singe his skin. He heard the battle-cry of the four-headed god Brahma. It was nearly upon him now.

With speed only befitting the mighty son of the King of Gods, Arjuna ducked and rolled over his bow; retrieving, notching, and firing off an arrow in the blink of an eye, and all while reciting the legendary gift of Lord Shiva: the Pashupatastra.

Pure destructive energy, red and black liquid death, surged out of his eyes and throat and finger tips, twisting its tendrils around the arrowhead and blasting out in front of it in a massive burst of raw destruction. It was not hot. It was not cold. It was the absence of all being, void.

Karna's Brahmastra was swallowed instantly and without struggle. Karna readied himself to withstand the impact, his shield raised, his back to the setting sun. His father, Surya the sun God, took pity on his child and for a single moment all the power of the sun was focused onto one spot, bracing his son against Arjuna's all-powerful shot. It was enough to stop the Pashupatastra, but not enough to save Karna's life. The destructive blast devoured him and left no trace of the warrior behind. But the blast went no further.

Arjuna breathed a sigh of relief and slunk down to the ground, exhausted. He could not move his arm, and was pretty sure he'd dislocated his injured shoulder by firing off that last shot. Despite himself, he laughed.

The sound of wheels crunching, growing louder. Arjuna looked up, squinting against the sunset. The army had fled. Only one lone chariot remained on the field of battle, charging towards him. He was too tired to fight, so he waiting for whatever fate might bring.

Moments later Uttara came riding up in Karna's chariot, with Duryodhana dragging behind him, bound in chains. His cousin was crying. He left behind a trail of gold coins in his wake.

Author's Note

I loved writing my previous story so much I decided to continue! This time, we see Arjuna put to use all the astras he learned last week. I had to go back and change one to make it fit, but I think it turned out really well.

This is a reworking of the scene were Arjuna charges in with Uttara (the cowardly prince) to fight against Duryodhana's whole army. The story was pretty vague about how he did it, so I thought it could be really fun to elaborate. Plus I was dying to put to use the powers I came up with last week.

I changed A LOT from the original story. I had to get rid of Arjuna's duel with Drona for length reasons. I decided it would be cool, but ultimately nothing of much importance comes out of that conflict. Narayan also really glosses over Arjuna's first major fight with Karna, so I decided to fuse this part with the actual battle with Karna at the end of the story. I also tried to improve that battle. Instead of Karna foolishly (and anti-climatically) forgetting how to use his ultimate trump card, he remembers it and Arjuna is forced to cope. I felt like this made the whole battle a lot more epic and a lot more fun for me to write.

Bibliography:

Narayan, R.K. The Mahabharata: a Shortened Modern Prose Version of the Indian Epic. 2013, the University of Chicago Press.