Ravindra was bawling at his sad fate when he heard some rustling in the nearby bushes. He turned to see two bright eyes peeking at him from the bushes next to the river. The eyes in the bushes spoke with a bass voice, "What happened? Why are you crying like a baby?"

Ravindra couldn't see who the person in the bushes was, what he was doing there, or why another person was deep in the forest at night. It was annoying to be compared to a baby. He choked down the tears and rubbed his nose as he replied, "I lost something important. It was taken away by the current."

"What did you lose?"

"A letter."

"Are you a dimwit? Crying your eyes out over a letter!"

"I am not a dimwit!"

"That's what all dimwits say. Anyway, what happened to your face?" asked the eyes in the bushes, chuckling.

Ravindra found it odd that the eyes never blinked; a fear started creeping in as he wondered if those eyes also belonged to a Rakshasa.

"Who are you? And why are you hiding in these bushes?" asked Ravindra, annoyed.

The eyes in the bushes introduced itself, "I am the dark mage of southern Chandanvan, the one and only Dakshinaacharya. I am not hiding; I am just giving some nourishment back to nature. Give me a minute, and let me bless you with my esteemed presence."

A tall man walked out of the bushes. He was bald and had a long, pointy white beard that went up to his waist. His face was covered with intricate designs of geometries, which, with its reddish hue, made him look a bit frightening. He wore a long black robe and a leather waist belt with a meditation chain hung to it.

"Are you a Rakshasa?" asked Ravindra, slightly confused by the dark mage's attire. He slowly tried to get hold of his sword on the ground.

"I just told you! I am the dark mage of southern Chandanvan. I am not a Rakshasa."

Ravindra remembered the old tales his grandmother used to tell him when he was a kid about powerful mages who could control Rakshasas and destroy places.

"Are you the one who is controlling that Rakshasa on the royal path?"

"Oh! You have seen him! I am impressed."

Ravindra got hold of the sword with his left hand and stood up.

"I will kill you! You are the cause of my misery. Why did you want your Rakshasa to kill me?"

"I am not the one controlling the Rakshasa," said the Dakshinaacharya with a mischievous smile.

"Liar!! You are lying to save your hide!"

"If you say so, but if you kill me, you will be killing the only person who can help you out of this situation," said the dark mage calmly.

Ravindra was skeptical. It had been a long day with a lot of suffering, but he thought about it for a minute: What advantage would he have by killing the dark mage when he didn't even have proof that he was the one who sent the Rakshasa?

The letter was still out of his hands, and there was no way to get it back. He thought that asking for help from this mage would certainly not make things worse than they already were.

Ravindra put down his sword and told the dark mage about his two encounters with the Rakshasa, about losing the letter, and how that is life-threatening to him and his family. Dakshinaacharya listened patiently and then said, "Well, I can certainly help you by magically getting the letter back to you, ensuring the words are not erased, the seal is not broken, and even removing all the blood stains from it. But, I need a favor in return for mine."

"What is it?" asked Ravindra eagerly.

The dark mage grew serious as he carefully laid out what he wanted from Ravindra to magically get the letter back. Ravindra felt it was challenging, but it seemed the only path if he wanted his family to be safe. He agreed to do it and climbed back to the royal path.

As he reached the royal path, he saw no trace of the Rakshasa except for the blood. It confirmed what he had learned from Dakshinaacharya. His severed thumb began to throb a bit more than before as he saw that blood, and he tightened his hold on the sword. It felt uncomfortable holding his sword with his left hand; he was not used to fighting with it.

He kept going upwards anyway and entered the forest region on the other side of the royal path. He looked around, hoping to find Vega, his horse, but it seemed to have gone elsewhere. He continued uphill, choosing to look for his horse later. Thinking about his wife and son's happy faces was the only thing that brought him some courage.

As he went further up, the forest got even darker. No light from the stars could sneak in, and it got pitch dark soon. He had to tread carefully among the maze of roots, fallen branches, and leaves by feeling the surrounding tree barks. After a few minutes, he could see some light in the distance and realized he was close to his destination. He treaded even slower, careful not to make much noise.

As he closed in on the clearing at the top of the forest hill, he could see the mud hut with a grassy roof in its middle. The light he saw earlier came from an oil lamp burning inside the hut. There was a wooden compound around the house with sharp edges of broken branches facing outward and a closed wooden gate to protect the person living in the hut from wild animals that might venture into that area.

As Ravindra entered the clearing, the cool, gentle breeze washed over him, making his severed thumb throb again. The sky was filled with dark clouds, and it seemed that it might start raining anytime. He slowly closed in on the mud hut and entered the premises through the gaps between the wooden compound. Holding the sword with both hands, he walked towards the door.

Entering the mud hut, he found nobody in it. Other than a few copper utensils, a strange-looking misty glass sphere on a stool in one corner, and a bed on the other, the room was pretty much empty except for the wall, which was filled with several portraits of a beautiful young woman dressed in royal clothes and wearing shining jewelry.

Ravindra was not high-born enough to have seen any princesses in real life; he was not one of the renowned painters who were usually paid hefty prizes by the royal families to make portraits of their progeny to share with potential grooms from other royal families. But he knew who this princess was; Dakshinaacharya had told him. It was Princess Soujanya. Ravindra had to believe what Dakshinaacharya had told him about; the paintings and the misty glass sphere had all come true. Now, if he can kill the dark mage of the Northern Chandanvan, Uttaraacharya, it would help Dakshinaacharya to receive all the dark powers of the northern mage and become the sole dark mage of Chandanvan.

Ravindra would reap the benefit of recovering the letter. He wouldn't have to face the puppet Rakshasa of Uttaraacharya anymore. As Ravindra was thinking through all this, he heard a humming sound from the other side of the hut. When Ravindra looked closer, he realized that a door on the other side of the hut was covered by a dark drape that almost blended into the walls.

Stepping closer to the drape and ensuring he made no noise, he took a sneak peek through the gaps in the drape and the wall. A man with long white hair in a red robe sat on the ground. The red color of his robe looked even more sinister, with dark shadows dancing on it from a fire burning nearby. Uttaraacharya's back was facing Ravindra, and he seemed to be moving his hands weirdly. After pushing the drapes slightly aside, Ravindra saw that the mage was sewing something. The mage blocked him from seeing what was being sown. Still, hairy red legs were visible to the left of Uttaraacharya. The mage was sewing back the Rakshasa whom Ravindra had killed for the second time a while ago.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Ravindra had to kill Uttaraacharya before the Rakshasa was completely sewn back; it would be challenging to fight two people when he would be using his left hand to fight. He sneaked out of the hut and slowly and carefully walked closer to Uttaraacharya. He held the sword with both hands and moved it over the mage's head to cut off the head in one clean swipe before he realized someone was attacking him. Uttaraacharya was busy sewing and humming a song. He hadn't noticed anything wrong with his surroundings.

When Ravindra reached close enough, it was the right time for the swing, but he got distracted by the red ball on the ground. It was the head of the Rakshasa, and he noticed that the neck had been sewn back again. The eyes of the Rakshasa were glowing yellow, and they were piercing Ravindra.

Without warning, the Rakshasa puppet opened his mouth wide and shrieked, making Ravindra weak in his knees. That one moment of shock had taken away the golden opportunity of killing Uttaraacharya because now the mage had turned his head back and was staring at Ravindra. When Ravindra returned to his senses, he swung his sword with all his might, but the mage was quick; he escaped it and thrust the sewing needle right into Ravindra's unprotected torso.

The pain made him lose his hold on the sword and almost blinded him for a few seconds. He was kicked in the chest by the mage and fell to the ground. When his eyesight came back, he could see a red figure towering before him, with a blinding fire in the background. The Rakshasa, who was whole now, took hold of Ravindra, lifted him high in the air, and smashed him back to the ground. He felt his life jolting away from him by the impact.

Ravindra cried in pain and could see from the corner that the Rakshasa was approaching him again. Uttaraacharya had got hold of his sword. Realizing that he could no longer kill the northern mage, he found that escape was his only option. He stood up as quickly as he could and ran across the hut, pushed through the gaps in the wooden compound, and ran towards the forest from where he came.

The northern mage shouted orders to the Rakshasa to follow and kill him. Ravindra could hear the thumping of footsteps behind him as he entered the forest. Before he could get any further, the forest's darkness surrounded him from all sides, and he could no longer see what was ahead.

Ravindra didn't slow down from the fear of being caught by the Rakshasa, and it was not long before his leg hit a root, and he lost balance and fell sideways to the ground. He got hold of a tree trunk before he could roll down the forest hill. His entire body was aching. Ravindra stood up, holding the tree trunk, and everywhere around him was darkness, except uphill, where the fiery torch that Uttaraacharya held was giving some light, and that light was growing every second as the mage rushed towards the forest.

Ravindra could see the Rakshasa's silhouette entering the forest from uphill, and his characteristic shriek shook him and the entire forest. He realized he had to devise a new plan because running downhill would kill him quicker. He thought about his wife and son, and not for the last time that night. The warm touch of the tree bark he was holding onto gave him an idea. Walking over to the tree's other side, he ensured he wouldn't be caught in the torch's light.

Ravindra grabbed hold of the lowest branch and slowly climbed the tree, putting a lot of strain on his weak body; he hadn't climbed past the second branch, roughly ten feet above the ground, before Uttaraacharya shouted in his baritone voice, "How dare he try to kill me! Find that bastard!"

As Ravindra climbed, the fire light was flickering brighter in the forest, and he felt it getting closer to him. The shriek was getting louder and scarier each second. Ravindra looked down and saw that Uttaraacharya was right below him with his sword in one hand and a burning log of wood in the other. Ravindra was too scared and decided to climb higher. He tried to reach another branch in a great hurry and had barely gotten hold of it before the previous branch broke off from the tree. Losing his balance, he fell on top of the northern mage.

Ravindra had no time to think about how painful the fall was; all he could think about was how lucky he was. Uttaraacharya had lost the sword and the fire and was locked under Ravindra. Despite his entire body screaming in pain, Ravindra would not lose the opportunity for the second time. He wasted no time and took hold of the broken branch, raised it above his head with its pointed side facing Uttaraacharya, and brought it down with great force as the mage screamed for Rakshasa's help.

Ravindra thrust the branch so hard it struck the mage's open mouth, and its splinters covered the lower half of his face. Uttaraacharya's eyes were wide with horror as he wailed in pain. Ravindra lifted up the branch and was about to thrust it into the mage's eyes before the shrieking Rakshasa jumped on him and took him off the mage.

The Rakshasa had jumped on him with such speed that they rolled down the forest hill. Ravindra's leg smashed into a tree trunk, breaking it below the knee, as he howled in pain. He continued to roll down until his torso smashed into another tree trunk, stopping him. The Rakshasa continued to roll down further, shrieking.

Ravindra stayed on the ground in the darkness, unable to move due to his left leg. He seemed to have fractured the lower half of his leg and no longer had any strength to move. He felt like his soul had left his body for the second time after smashing into the tree trunk.

Ravindra lay his head on the forest floor and held his stomach as he suffered from the hit. Turning uphill, he saw that Uttaraacharya had stood up. The sword and the fire log were back in his hands again. He looked like a bloody witch, his long white hair disheveled and flowing wildly up to his knee.

The mage rushed toward him, but Ravindra had no strength to move. On the other side, Rakshasa's shriek seemed to be getting closer and closer, indicating that Rakshasa had somehow stopped himself from rolling down and was climbing back.

Ravindra brought his wife and son's image to his mind and silently asked for forgiveness. Uttaraacharya had closed up on him, and the bright light from the fire was right before him as he lay helpless on the ground. The mage's eyes were reflecting the madness from the fire, and his lower jaw was barely hanging on his face. Still, he somehow thundered, "She belongs to me!"

Uttaraacharya raised the sword to slash at Ravindra and cackled with madness, "You will make a good Rakshasa!"

Ravindra closed his eyes tightly and hoped that it would all end soon.

Just then, he heard a horse neigh and something forceful colliding with something else, followed by the Uttaraacharya's scream, which was cut short. He opened his eyes to see his dark horse Vega standing where the northern mage was; the fire branch had fallen on the ground, and he turned slightly to look at Uttaraacharya, on the ground with something dark and pointy sticking out of his left eye. It wasn't long before Uttaraacharya took his final breath. Ravindra looked around for the Rakshasa and could hear his shriek no more. He realized that the mage's death also caused his puppet to die.

"Thank you, Vega. I am eternally in your debt," said Ravindra with all the strength he could muster.

His horse neighed happily, came close to him, and bent over, allowing him to get up on it. Ravindra struggled hard with a fractured leg but somehow got on the horse, and the horse began to go downhill. As he got closer to the dark mage, he could see that some protrusion of the tree roots was sharp enough to pierce through the mage's brain and eye and kill him. The dark mage still had Ravindra's sword, but there was no way he could get down from the horse to take it and get back up again, so he let his horse continue downhill.

Struggling to barely hold on to consciousness, Ravindra passed through a blurry of dark tree barks. He lay his head on Vega's neck and held on to the horse with his arms around it for fear of falling down.

Dakshinaacharya stood on the royal path in his black robe; Ravindra was glad that he didn't have to take his horse down to the river; it would have been too difficult to travel back up in his situation. He was finding it too hard to hold his consciousness and had lost it for a few seconds multiple times on the downhill journey.

The dark mage gave him the letter and said, "Thank you for your help! As promised, here is the letter."

Ravindra looked at the rolled sheet in his hand and saw it still had the princess's seal. Shoving it into his belt with great difficulty, he murmured thanks to Dakshinaacharya. He was on his way back to Tejapur.

By the time he reached Tejapur, it was early in the morning, and the sun had not yet risen. As he entered the palace, holding his horse tightly, he saw soldiers coming towards him to gently put him down from the horse onto a not-so-comfortable stool. One of the ministers rushed towards him with concern on his face.

"You look unrecognizable, what happened?"

"It doesn't matter; here's the letter from Princess Soujanya," said Ravindra, who had no strength to say anything else, as he handed the letter to the minister.

Ravindra noticed the minister's odd expression as he received the letter.

"What happened? Is the King angry that I didn't return last night?"

"He is not," said the minister with some hesitation and a tinge of guilt.

"What?"

"Another renowned painter came by the court yesterday. He showed the painting of another princess, and the King has found new love."

"I don't get it. What do you mean?"

"He no longer cares about Princess Soujanya."

"I almost sacrificed my life to get the letter back," murmured Ravindra with great sadness.

"I couldn't hear you clearly."

Ravindra didn't reply. Realizing all his efforts were in vain, he was devastated and choked back tears.

"Your face is all swollen, your leg looks unnatural, you are bleeding from multiple places. Let me call the court physician immediately."

Before the minister could convey the command to a soldier, Ravindra stopped him.

"That's alright, I will live. I want to go back to my house. My wife and son are waiting."

Ravindra tugged his horse's lead rope, and it bent down. He climbed on it with great difficulty, not accepting the help of the minister and the soldiers even when they tried to. He turned around, and his horse trotted out of the palace despite the minister's plea to visit the physician.

As he rested on his horse's body and headed home, the sun rose in the east. As the first rays of the sun hit him, it almost felt like all his pain and remorse were washed away. He enjoyed the sunrise and was happy to be alive and back in his hometown. He counted himself lucky to be able to see his wife and son again, and despite all the wounds and the pain, he hadn't lost anything that really mattered to him.

THE END