Forest of Demons (6 page)

The next morning dawned hotter than usual, a sure sign that winter was around the corner. There would be a month of intolerable heat and then the chill would come, unforgiving but relatively short. The harvest would be reaped in a week’s time and the grain distributed. People would check their stores to ensure they were equipped for the frost, and once it was upon them, no one would venture out during the red sun hours, which would become unbearably cold. Priya enjoyed the winter despite its brevity, for it brought with it a beauty all its own.

As she waited beside the forest trail for Guru and his friend Pratip, she felt her excitement grow. A whole morning to spend beside Guru. A whole morning of listening to his voice, his laugh, and to maybe hold his hand. They’d held hands all the time as children, but once his betrothal to Mala had been announced, everything had changed. She felt a pang of guilt. Wasn’t this the exact reason for Mala’s quarrel with her on the morning of her demise? Yet here she was thinking covetous thoughts about her friends betrothed.

But Mala is dead.

Still didn’t make it right. She would stop. She would banish the inappropriate longings.

Guru came into view, scaling the soft rise that led down to the village proper, and all her resolve melted.

He was beautiful. With skin like milky chai, hair as dark as a raven’s wing, and eyes as warm as chocolate, he was captivating to behold. Beside him sauntered Pratip with his infectious grin, mischievous dark eyes, and uncontrollable mop of curly hair. Pratip’s family had moved to the village four years ago. He’d found his calling working in the temple as an idol cleaner, while his father had taken on the role of
panisira
, catering to the general village needs. The village servant was an invaluable asset; it was to him everyone turned in the face of any festival or gathering. He would liaise with the necessary parties, order the food or decorations required, and ensure that the event went without a hitch.

Guru raised a hand in greeting. Priya returned the gesture before tucking errant strands of her hair behind her ears.

“Hello pretty girl,” Pratip said.

She blushed.

He could always make her blush. Ma said it was his charm; some men were blessed with it and could talk their way into, or out of, any situation.

“Let me take that.” Guru held out his hand for the satchel, and Priya lifted it off her shoulders and handed it to him.

“Wow, this is heavy,” Guru said.

Priya shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“Our Priya is a warrior.” Pratip winked. “She fought off a rakshasha; we’ll be well protected today.”

Priya laughed. “Yes, if you count turning tail and running as warrior behavior.”

“I call it
sane
behavior.” Guru looked solemn.

Pratip looked toward the forest, rubbing his hands together. “Well, let’s get on with this.” He held up a black thread with a small talisman hanging off it. “We have God’s protection today.”

They entered the forest together, but after a few moments, Pratip fell back and Guru continued walking abreast of Priya. Priya’s pulse accelerated. Had he planned this with Pratip to give them some time alone together?

This part of the forest was filled with sounds of life. The shade the canopy of the trees provided was a blessed relief from the dry heat of the sun.

Guru’s fingers slipped around hers and he squeezed gently. Priya’s mouth was suddenly dry. The air around them seemed charged with anticipation, the crack and snap of the underbrush seemed shockingly loud.

He was holding her hand. She couldn’t recall the last time he’d held her hand.

“Priya?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t look at him, afraid that he would see her emotions written across her face plain as ink on paper.

“How are you coping . . . really? I mean, I know you’ve been acting normal and getting on with things, but what happened to you was no small matter, and what with Mala . . .”

Priya was no longer listening, too busy grasping on to her sinking heart. He was simply worried about her, enquiring about her emotional well-being.

“ . . . to know if you need anything, or just if you need to talk I’m there for you.”

Priya blinked back her tears of disappointment, nodding. He pulled her to a halt and grasped her chin in his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look into his eyes.

Her feelings were brimming there for him to see. This time she didn’t try and hide them, but simply let them shine through, clamping her bottom lip between her teeth. Now he’d know.

“Oh!” He gasped softly. “Oh, my darling girl.” He pulled her into his arms. “I knew it was an act; your bravado in the face of adverse odds. You can cry, you can scream. You almost died, and in the same way as . . . as our very dear friend.”

Priya closed her eyes and inhaled his scent, partly relieved, yet partly disappointed. He hadn’t seen.

Maybe he doesn’t know you as well as you think.

Guru pulled back, chucking her under the chin. “Come on, let’s collect some roots and herbs.”

Pratip joined them. “All good?”

Guru smiled across at him, and Priya was struck by the tenderness in that look.

Turning away, confused, she continued down the trail.

The trip was very successful. Not a single trace of the rakshasa. They collected every item on the list, some in copious quantities. It’d been a productive morning’s work.

Guru and Pratip mainly kept watch, carrying the bag and helping with the particularly difficult roots. Pratip asked a lot of questions. Priya got the impression that he was genuinely interested in villee work.

“You know, Papa is looking for an apprentice,” she said.

“Really?” Pratip’s face lit up.

“No.” Guru shook his head. “Much too dangerous.”

Pratip frowned up at him. “You didn’t have any problem coming today.”

“Like I would leave Priya to do this alone. Besides, there are three of us,” Guru pointed out.

“And if I take the apprenticeship, there will be two of us.”

“But you’ll eventually have to work alone. No. I won’t allow it.” It was said in such an impervious tone that Priya sat back on her heels, staring at Guru in bewilderment.

Pratip stood, hands on hips. “It’s my decision.”

“For goodness sake Pratip, be reasonable.”

Priya watched the exchange with interest. Something was off; she was missing something.

She realized both men had stopped arguing and were staring at her sheepishly.

Pratip cleared his throat. “Such an overbearing friend, isn’t he? I’m surprised he didn’t pick a fight with Ravi when he discovered the proposal.”

“What?” Priya asked.

Guru’s expression darkened. “I’m glad you refused him. He’s not a decent man. There are terrible rumors circulating about him.”

Despite her own reservations, a strange protective urge rose up in her. “Ravi is a hard-working man. He saved my life!”

“Yes, he did, which is the only reason I didn’t have strong words with him.”

Priya studied his face, set in harsh lines to depict his displeasure. She imagined Guru facing off against Ravi and could only see one outcome, and it wouldn’t have been in Guru’s favor. A giggle rose in her throat.

Guru’s frown deepened. “You think this is funny?”

Pratip stepped in to diffuse the situation. “I’m sure Priya is perfectly capable of making her own judgements, and to be honest, the image of you challenging Ravi
is
kind of funny.”

Guru bristled. “Just because I’m slender doesn’t make me weak.”

Pratip smiled indulgently. “Of course not, but you don’t spend all day, every day, shaping metal with a hammer that’s equal to your body weight.”

Guru glared at him. Pratip pulled a funny face. Then they were both laughing. The sound was infectious, and Priya couldn’t help but join in.

As they made their way back down the trail toward the village, Priya ran the conversation through her mind. He knew about the proposal and was unhappy about it. Could it be that he cared more than he was willing to admit? Maybe he was bound by his family’s expectations so was unable to declare himself. She knew he cared for her; maybe in time, he’d find the strength to act on those feelings.

But he cares for Pratip too. Look how upset he became when the apprenticeship was considered.

It was all much too confusing. In the end, Priya filed away the thoughts for later examination.

Guru and Pratip walked her home saying their good-byes outside the hut. Priya knew better than to invite them in. Ma was busy making pots for the market, and Papa would probably be resting. Before they left, Pratip leaned in on the pretext of a hug and whispered in her ear.

“Tell your papa I’ll take the apprenticeship.”

So she entered the hut armed with some positive news.

She could hear the potter’s wheel whirring. Ma was ensconced in her own world in her workroom at the back of the house. Pottery was her pleasure, her escape. She loved making the pots, which was why her creations sold. Each pot, vase, and plate was a unique piece of work, painstakingly painted in ochers, reds, and blues. The pieces sold well. Ma sometimes even received commissions for dinner sets. Priya decided to leave her to it and peeked in on Papa. He was fast asleep, lying on his side.

The news would have to wait. Putting the satchel and its contents in the cupboard by the door, she gathered the items she needed for the stall, loaded them onto the barrow hitched to Madhu the mule, and set off for market.

Most stalls were packing up for surya time when she got to the market. She realized why setting the stall up early was so important. The heat now was insufferable, and every action was a chore. She’d barely started setting up the stall when a shadow fell over her.

She glanced up into Ravi’s concerned face.

“Let me help you,” he said. Without waiting for a response he began to assemble the stall and unload the barrow.

Priya was momentarily thrown and considered declining his assistance, but common sense prevailed, and instead she set to work beside him.

They were almost done when a loud exclamation cut through the heavy air.

Priya squinted into the sun, attempting to douse a flare of annoyance.

Guru was striding toward them. A white scarf wrapped over his head, his fair limbs covered in fine white mesh fabric that both protected and cooled.

“Get away from her!” he shouted, waving his hands as if to shoo away a wild dog.

Ravi quirked a brow in her direction, as if to say “here we go.”

“It’s fine! He was helping me!” Priya called back, but Guru was already upon them, his handsome face twisted in anger. “Stay away from her. She’s not for you.”

Ravi stood tall, his arms crossed. “Why? You want her for yourself?”

Guru looked stunned. His mouth opened and closed, his eyes flickering from Priya, then back to Ravi, and all the while Priya’s heart jumped up and down, screaming, “Yes, say yes!”

Guru swallowed. “Priya’s my friend. I won’t have the likes of you cast a shadow over her virtue.”

“Guru please. It’s fine.” Priya stepped between the two men, her hand on Guru’s chest, her brows low with annoyance. His heart was beating fast; Priya realized that he was frightened. Frightened but acting anyway. Her expression softened. “It’s all right. Honest.” She glanced at Ravi over her shoulder, his jaw was set, his eyes like flint. “Thank you Ravi. I’ll be fine now.”

For a moment she thought he would stand his ground, but then the tension drained from his body. He inclined his head, turned on his heal, and strode across the market back to the smithy.

“You shouldn’t speak to him,” Guru said shortly.

“There’s no harm in conversation; besides, he was helping me.”

“
I
was coming to help you.”

Priya threw up her hands. “And I was supposed to know that, how?”

Guru huffed and began to fiddle with the items on the stall. “We shouldn’t argue. Mala isn’t here anymore to play peacemaker.”

Priya picked up a vase, turning it over in her hands. “She would always say the silliest things at the most inappropriate times.”

Guru smiled. “Yes, and she would always get her way. She was so stubborn.”

They fell into silence.

“Are you going to the bard’s reading tonight?”

Priya was thrown. She’d completely forgotten about it. “Um, yes. I think.”

Guru nodded. “Father says this bard is renowned in the nearby villages for telling the most fantastical tales. Frightening fare, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure you reach home safe and sound.”

“Well I should think so.” Priya smiled up at him. “Remember last year when the bard from Dakha village visited?”

“Goodness yes!” Guru slapped his thigh.

“Every tale he told was ruined by Mala spilling the ending first.”

“Simply to illustrate how old his material was.”

“What was it she said? Oh, yes ‘It’s a bard’s duty to weave a fresh tale with every telling.’”

Guru’s eyes crinkled with the fond memory. “I’ll miss her this year.”

“Me too.”

Guru left her with a promise of a front row seat and a funnel of roasted peanuts with which to enjoy the tales. She watched him walk away, an act of grace in itself. They shared so many memories, secrets, and dreams of adventure. Maybe someday soon she’d be brave enough to ask him to join her in her dream to visit the capital. Maybe they would make new memories there together.

“Are you sure you won’t come?” Priya asked Ma for the tenth time.

“Yes, go, Kunti. I’ll be fine.” Papa urged from his spot by the stove. Priya watched him with concern. Were the lines on his forehead new? Had his arms always been that thin? He looked . . . old.

Ma passed Papa his chai. “I would rather stay in and spend some quality time with you.” She stroked Papa’s cheek.

Papa reached up to pat her hand. “Very well. How can any sane man argue with such an offer?”

Priya smiled. It was lovely to see them like this, but she worried about them too. Her parents were getting old, and with no son to provide for them, to take care of them, the duty would fall on her. If she were honest, she would admit that a small part of her reluctance to wed was due to the fact that her new family might prevent her from caring for her parents. She might be banned from working outside the home; the little freedom she had would be gone. She was determined to realize her capital dreams, except now she would include her parents in them.