|| - Dark Queen - ||

"The moon is my sun

The night is my day

Blood is my life

And you are my prey"
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It was a temple but it venerated no god. Prayers were uttered, but they were meant to bring forth no fortune. Lamps were lit but they brought no light, only shadows and smoke. Where sacrifices were made, blood was spilt, hymns were chanted and devils were invoked such a place existed underneath the pure white stone citadel of Madavgadh. The rumours attributed the title of being its founder to Rani Meenawati, a daughter of a warrior who had risen through ranks of Madhavgadh army until he was made commander in chief. Although the queen younger than the king by decades had adapted well to her new title and role as the queen of the white castle, Madhavgadh had never really accepted her as one of their own. Her rise to power and prestige was always tainted with speculations that the way to glory was paved with witchcraft.

It was one of those rare occasions where the gossips had a drop of truth in it. Meenawati indeed knew enchantments but contrary to the popular belief the king, her husband was hardly ignorant of his queen's abilities. Instead, it was one of the reasons in the first place why he had chosen to marry her. In the years since her arrival at the citadel Madhavgadh proved to be an unconquerable stronghold. Still it stands atop a boulder overlooking the inner city of nobles and miles and miles of the state of Madhavgadh stretching out from the inner city walls towards the deserts in the western horizon. But the motive to which Meenawati employed her arts had been buried along with her and the woman who now lit the lamps of her dark temple had goals as tainted as the methods she employed to reach them.

Her mother had not left behind much for her use; if she was to exclude the dark arts she tried to make Gayatri swear that she would never use to harm an innocent. She had been a naïve girl then, to vow to give up the only weapon she had against the numerous foes that rose against her and her own as the years progressed. Left under the care of a much older step brother, who had already succeeded to their father's throne, Gayatri was soon married off to a man twice of her age after her mother Meenawati's death. Being a second wife to an heirless king was not the most pleasant of lives. But she had honestly tried to keep the word she had given to her deceased mother. But a husband who was still in love with his barren first wife, a brother who was doing everything to erase all links between him and her, and a court full of vipers had slowly but surely rusted and weakened her resolve.

She thought the birth of Shivjit - her son, was her reward for not falling back to darker ways. He would solidify her footing in the court that despised her, perhaps, improve her image in the eyes of a husband who did not love her. She was the queen who gave an heir to Chandranagara.

Alas, it is the fate of some blades to rust, some minds to corrupt, some hearts to turn wicked.

The news of Shivjit's birth was followed by the most surprising news of all; the principle queen - MahaRani Subhadra was expecting. Gayatri was reduced to burn in silent jealousy as the king showered affection on his favorite - now pregnant - first wife. He was hoping - it was no secret - that she would give birth to a prince, a prince who once born he would name the crown prince. Over her Shivjit - his firstborn.

Gayatri could not possible wait in shadows and let it happen. She could not watch her son being condemned to a fate very similar to hers. Instead of waiting in the shadows, she started invoking the shadows and soon - the entire Chandranagara was drowned in shadows.

Still, not everything went as she planned or cursed. Gayatri had to flee, when Chandranagara came under the control of Khan, back to her step brother and his invincible citadel still guarded by her mother's enchantments. It was no surprise that he was not content to shelter her. In his older age the king of Madhavgadh had problems of his own, without calling war to his doorstep with a sister he wanted to keep no ties with. But the honour and duty demanded that he kept them - which he did, albeit reluctantly. And in no way was he eager to fight for any claim Gayatri believed her son had.

Again, Gayatri found her goals thwarted, by another man who claimed a right to decide what was best for her. With her brother's command over their lives, Shivjit would grow up to be nothing but another Gayatri - and she would not have that.

The seasons turned and Gayatri unleased her shadows over her own homeland. The spirits that once protected the king and the kingdom, she demanded their loyalty now. With her mother's blood running in her veins, they dare not submit to her call. Madhavgadh did not fall for that had never been Gayatri's aim. But the king did. One of his sons succumbed to a mysterious illness and died the other was fatally wounded during a hunting accident. The queen did not take their loss very well and the king himself begun to lose the grip over his senses as the years progressed.

To an outsider, Madhavgadh still stood proud, the castle still pure white, the old and haughty looking king still sat upon his throne. But a shadow loomed over them all. Underneath the pure castle wicked shadows danced in the dark temple, the king was merely a puppet, a frail old man reaching closer to his end each day. The real ruler of the once great city was his sister - the princess who was once a queen in Chandranagara - Gayatri.

She could have killed her brother had she wanted to, but Gayatri still had uses of the frail king. It was through him that she made connections with the British, Lord McLane to be precise. The man who she admired for his razor sharp wit that matched hers if not exceeded it, became the driving force of Shivjit's upbringing. They had an understanding, which Gayatri knew benefited both of them - that one day Shivjit would sit on the throne of Chandranagara which belonged to him and the throne of Madhavgadh, which she had earned for him.

But to have come so far Gayatri was no longer as naïve as she had once been. She was certain that McLane had his own plots, motives that he had not disclosed to her. She suspected that the man's loyalties were not as unbending as he portrayed them to be. Instead she needed to make sure McLane had no side to take other than that of her son Shivjit. There was only one piece she needed to remove in order to clear her son's path to throne.

Gayatri had already made her move.

She had lit the last of the nine lamps that completed the circle before she sat on the cold floor and closed her eyes. Steps on the stone stairs leading down to the dark temple broke her trance. Gayatri did not open her eyes, but the man who approached her knew he had her attention. Instead he stood at the shadowy entrance head bowed, staring at the ground until his queen allowed him to speak, which she did after a pause, her eyes still closed.

"Did the arrow find the target?"

"It did, my queen."

Gayatri exhaled softly, her taut features relaxed visibly, before she opened her eyes.

"Well done, bring the arrow to me then. Place it here on the circle." She spoke calmly, with the air of one commenting on the weather. The man however did not move. Instead he fiddled with his thumbs, his shoulders shuddering slightly. "The arrow Giri...!" Still the man did not move and a vein throbbed in Gayatri's temple. "Was I not clear enough when I said, I need the arrow coated in her blood? What part of my order was so hard for you to grasp that you returned without the arrow?"

"My queen - it was, it was," the man fumbled with his words, trying to find an excuse that did not enrage her further. He could not possible confess that he had lost all trace of the target as soon as he had shot her. Neither could he possibly tell her it was too dark and chaotic for him to search for her under his guise as one of the Chandranagara guards. Giri was a spy, an occasional assassin, but he was no match for the plans his queen came up with sometimes.

"Go!" Gayatri's voice was shrill as she issued that command. Her hands fisted and teeth gritted, her sound shook not only the recipient of her order but also some bats in a scheduled corner of the temple took flight at the sudden disturbance. "Don't return without bringing me that arrow!"

Giri almost tripped over his own feet before rushing out at once. Gayatri exhaled again, though not so much at peace anymore. The rage in her eyes was red hot that the flames of the fire lit in front of her was no match for its burn. She threw a handful of some powder into the fire and it glowered momentarily, fuming as the flames roared.

"Kashi - KASHI!"

**

"Kashi? Kashi? Kashi!" No matter how hard she tried Gauri could elicit no response from the unconscious figure lying on the bed. All the candles in the room were lit and they had dispelled the shadows to the furthest corners possible. Not knowing what else to do and bound by her friend's word to keep her silence, Noor had fetched Gauri secretly not having enough courage to watch Kashi bleed into unconsciousness any longer.

They had cleaned and tended to her wound a while back, it had almost stopped bleeding. What troubled Gauri, as far as Noor understood it was that Kashi had succumbed to a feverish spell of unconsciousness, from which none of the older woman's brews seemed to bring her about.

There was some commotion outside and both women exchanged a worried glance before a perturbed Satyavan barged in, pulling with him a struggling and agitated looking Afreen.

"Where do you think you are -" Afreen's piercing tone died as soon as her eyes fell on Kashi, Satyavan's hold loosened on her as she rushed to her bedside. "Ya Allah - who did this?"

"I think you know very well yourself," muttered Satya darkly, as Afreen turned around to cast him a reproachful look. "It was you who helped her get out this time - did you not?"

Afreen sighed, straightening to look at Satya directly. Her jaw was set and eyes burning as she stared him down.

"And I was supposed to be psychic to know she was going to get attacked this time? Baseless love and baseless hate both are forms of insanity Satyavan Miyyan*, this is no time or place for you to start your baseless accusations - why was I brought here?" She added the last part turning towards Gauri who was watching their argument with an exhausted expression.

"I didn't ask him to bring you here," she replied rather stiffly. It was no secret that Gauri's disposition towards Afreen was much similar to Satya, if not entirely as cold as his. "I asked him to find out from you where Kashi bai went to wonder tonight."

"I thought you'd better ask her yourself," Satya huffed.

"Of cause talking to me taints his reputation - dragging me half way across the fortress doesn't!" Afreen said sarcastically. A giggle escaped Noor's mouth before she clamped a hand over her lips giving an apologetic look.

"Sorry," she muttered as both Afreen and Satya glowered at her.

"We need to find the arrow she was shot with," Gauri's monotone brought them back to the present chaos. "And we must do it before too late."

Afreen narrowed her eyes, her gaze going from the unconscious girl to the older woman tending her.

"You think it's her - don't you?" The two women exchanged a look of understanding and dark dared, before Afreen sighed. "I'm not sure of any exact location, but I know she was planning to go to the city square where some villages were supposed to be punished again."

Noor looked at Satya, who was watching their exchange with a dark look of his own, at the mention of city square he almost turned to leave and only stopped short because of Noor's question.

"What are they talking about?"

"It's an old superstition," Satya told her. "That once you've been wounded by a cursed weapon, you won't wake up unless the weapon is destroyed. Haven't you heard - your father's sword supposedly carries a curse like that!"

"And who is her?"

"Gayatri - Rani Gayatri Devi, Kashi's choti Ma.*"

**

||Glossary||

*Miyyan - is a title similar to Mr, or sir, used to denote a male.

*Choti Ma - could have two meanings, either it is an aunt who is a younger sister of the mother or a step mother. Used by children of a higher ranked queen to refer to the other queens of their father's harem.

||Note||

This chapter was originally supposed to be longer but Gayatri and her story took a larger chunk than I expected her to. So the rest of this chapter had to go to a separate part.

But since the narrative itself breaks here, I am not naming the two parts part I and II instead the story will continue in the next chapter; chapter IX : Cursed arrow.

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