The Eighth God is Man

On a vast mountain the shape of a sleeping bull, a long line of workers were transporting stone to repair a section of the fort wall. The midday sun was shining bright, a white hole in the sky that is impossible to look at. A dash of yellow suddenly swooshed past from above, with a long jump over the crack in the ramparts. A large eagle looking like the king of the sky was startled by the small but speedy speck of color that was the only bright part in as far as its eye can see. All over, the mountain was covered in craggy rocks, dried underbrush and thick weeds which have long since turned brown, as though devoid of life. Monotonous winds continuously blew over this open landscape where it was hard to find a single shade. A child's eccentric laughter echoed across the hills with this burst of color that flew by, brightening the great yet empty expanse of nature. Several surrounding mountains seemed to have issued a vibe along with that laughter and the landscape didn't seem so harsh and unwelcoming anymore. Elsewhere on the wide ramparts a lone swordsman paused in his practice to look at that bubble of liveliness in the distance. Heat suffused from his broad chest, mixed with the air, producing cool sweat. He smiled lightly at the distant figure and continued with renewed vigor, his sword thrust twice as powerful than a moment ago. The patrolling guards turned their heads and saw the source of the noise in the dull, hot afternoon. They pointed to each other and spoke, suddenly brimming with excitement. Soon the lively dot of yellow reached the guard tower beside the gate and cackled loudly.

"Uncle Jeh, catch me!" A boy of about eight or nine yelled as he jumped thrice in succession over the protruding footholds on the inner walls of the rampart and then leapt directly to the ground.

Jeh-shaan of the Patr-dal vansh (clan), the captain of the guards was startled out of his boots. He was in the middle of checking with his vice-captain about the progress on the wall repair.

"No, no, no! Not again!" he begged, even as his tall, sturdy figure rushed across the twenty odd feet separating him from the space where the little boy would spatter should he hit the ground. "Little Prince, please don't!" he yelled, but by then, the boy was long airborne.

"Ha ha ha ha!" the boy laughed freely, his greenish pink, silk angavastra* flying freely in the air in a dazzling display, like a drunk dancer in the bar. His healthy brown chest now naked was kissed by the hot sun, his thin, long legs kicked in the air several times as he happily fell. Just in time, Jeh-shaan caught him freely by the ribs, his powerful calf contracting as he bent his knee and releasing a massive force as he bounced the boy up again, making him bellow in excitement. He ignored the slight pain caused by the impact despite the captain's best efforts to reduce the fall's momentum.

Instantly, his brain travelled elsewhere. His first memory from when he was close to three. He was surrounded by his sisters his big brother who was twelve years older, tall and strong was throwing him up in the air and catching him again and again. Little Prince Vajradandaka was endlessly laughing, as though one with the milky ocean of bliss where Vishnu resides, unwilling to come back to the world of mortals. In the vacuum caused by that mindless laughter, the little prince experienced that mystical realm for the first time, which was also his true first memory.

Jeh-shaan presently was not happy at all. For one thing, though he was just a little boy, the prince already had the strong bones and excellent physique of the Adityas, the ruling clan of the nation. Coupled with the training since he was six and all the associated nourishment to sustain the strenuous activity, the boy only looked fragile. In truth he was quite sturdy. For another, the height that he fell from not small at all, causing even Jeh-shaan's powerful back to spasm painfully. One must know, Jeh-shaan was widely acknowledged to be the second strongest warrior in the entire southern lands of the western drylands. Not even a hundred blades in battle can make him flinch. But the little prince was known to do that every single week.

"Little Prince, how many times have I told you not to trust someone so much!" the captain of the guards chided in irritation. "What if I didn't catch you?!"

"But I trust you Uncle Jeh!" the boy laughed happily, his bright face and smooth eyebrows displaying innocence, while the bright, star like black eyes showing a flash of cunning. The prince's spindly legs wrapped themselves around the captain's hips, completely ignoring the big man's intention to put him down.

"That's why I keep telling you," the captain coaxed and accepted his fate to carry the child outside the gate, where a platoon is waiting to escort him. "You shouldn't just trust someone like that, no matter what his position is in the palace. Especially not with your life!" he said, as he re-wrapped the pinkish green angavastra which has flown off his body when he jumped, lightly covering the child's upper body.

"But you are different!" the prince argued stubbornly.

"No I'm not!" the big man explained earnestly, "Little prince, nobody is different! Everybody is your subject and everybody is the same. If my heart wasn't in the right place for one second, you would've lost your life because of what you just did. You need to be more responsible than that!"

"But why wouldn't your heart be at the right place?" the prince suddenly shouted, angrily hopping off the warrior, "A truly loyal person would never say something like that!"

In an instant, his fair face flushed and his eyes became red with rage. The prince's sudden outburst startled the military personnel manning the gate as though firecrackers have gone off the hot, dull weather.