CHAPTER 23

Dharmayudh, the Holy War

The Suryavanshis were arranged like a bow. Strong, yet flexible. The recently raised
tortoise regiments had been placed at the centre. The light infantry formed the flanks, while the
cavalry, in turn, bordered them. The chariots had been abandoned due to the unseasonal rain
the previous night. They couldn’t risk the wheels getting stuck in the slush. The newly reared
archer regiments remained stationed at the back. Skilfully designed back rests had been
fabricated for them, which allowed the archers to lie and guide their feet with an ingenious
system of gears. The bows could be stretched across their feet and the strings drawn back up
to their chins, releasing powerfully built arrows, almost the size of small spears. As they were
at the back of the Suryavanshi infantry, their presence was hidden from the Chandravanshis.
The Chandravanshis had placed their army as per their strength in a standard offensive
formation. Their massive infantry was in squads of five thousand. There were fifty such,
comprising a full legion in a straight line. They stretched as far as the eye could see. There
were three more such legions behind the first one, ready to finish off the job. This formation
allowed a direct assault onto a numerically inferior enemy, giving the offence tremendous
strength and solidity, but also making it rigid. The squads left spaces in between them, to allow
the cavalry to charge through if required. Seeing the Suryavanshi formation, the Chandravanshi
cavalry from the rear had been moved to the flanks. This would enable a quicker charge at the
flanks of the Suryavanshi formation and disrupt enemy lines. The Chandravanshi general clearly
had a copy of the ancient war manuals and was playing it religiously, page by page. It would
have been a perfect move against an enemy who also followed standard tactics. Unfortunately,
he was up against a Tibetan tribal chief whose innovations had transformed the Suryavanshi
attack.
As Shiva rode towards the hillock at the edge of the main battlefield, the Brahmins picked up
the tempo of their shlokas while the war drums pumped the energy to a higher level. Despite
being outnumbered on a vast scale, the Suryavanshis did not exhibit even the slightest hint of
nervousness. They had buried their fear deep.
The war cries of the clan-gods of the various brigades rent the air.
‘Indra dev Id jail’
‘Agni dev ki jail’
‘Jai Shakti devi Id!’
‘Varun dev ki jai!’
‘Jai Pawan dev Id!’
But these cries were forgotten in an instant as the soldiers saw a magnificent white steed
canter in over the hillock carrying a handsome, muscular figure. A thunderous roar pierced the
sky, loud enough to force the gods out of their cloud palaces to peer at the events unfolding