Magic Water


Magic Water


Magic Water

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When the witch’s curse was broken, it wasn’t by a man with a sword. It was by magic—water from the river that had been poisoned to make it look like the waters of life and death were mingling in a lake called Lake Mivattu, which meant “Lake of Life.”

The water itself turned on the people who had used it for their own purposes, and they died within days. But when the king’s son went near the dead body of his mother he was cured of her illness too.

After this healing, there was no more need for the king to fear sorcery; he believed himself protected from any further attempts at black magic because he knew now that it only brought disaster on whoever did it, as it had brought him misery in losing his wife, then suffering for months before her death.

He ordered his men back home. When he left on his journey after three weeks’ rest, many people followed them out of curiosity rather than loyalty. And when they reached the land where King Siva lived, it seemed that everyone wanted to go with them to see what would happen next.

There was great rejoicing when news came that the boy whose mother had been sick was completely well again, and all the women wished themselves beautiful enough to win such a prince. The king told his son that the first woman to touch him without being asked by him to do so would be crowned queen, but she must not let anyone else come near him.

If someone tried to kiss him or take advantage of him, he could choose whether he wanted to have an eye gouged out or a finger cut off each time this happened.

So it was the same old story—a man who is willing to risk a lot of pain to protect his virtue. I’m sure you’ve heard it before.

I think the witch had a good idea about her curse: She didn’t want anybody using her lake for evil purposes. Her magic wasn’t strong enough to turn everybody into snakes or anything else really bad, but it certainly made it clear that nothing good would result if she were used.

That’s why the people who had gone to live around Lake Mivattu found it easy enough to give up the evil ways they’d been doing, and they became honest and hard-working once more, just as people do when the gods are watching over them.

It might not have worked so well if they hadn’t had a powerful god looking down on them from up above, ready to forgive them. We can say the same thing for some other places where evil practices were done. But we still find people who aren’t willing to change, even though they know they’ll suffer for it.

The next day King Praman went to visit the house of his sister and brother-in-law and stayed there for several days. They enjoyed talking to him a great deal and learned many things from him about the world beyond their island, although they weren’t allowed to tell him much about how their lives had changed since they’d come to live here.

When he finally left for home, they promised to send a message telling him soon about the changes that were coming to the place where they now lived, but he was already on his way home before they sent the messenger.

They never saw King Praman again.

***

Sita’s Brother

A princess married to a king who has no sons, and therefore cannot continue ruling the country, will have another son and name him heir after she gives birth. Sometimes kings don’t want this to happen because they prefer their own power as long as they can keep it.

This was the case with the king in the story of Sita’s Brother: He was jealous of the son who would succeed him, and so he decided to kill the baby when he was born so that the throne would stay safe until he died instead of going to someone else’s son.

He was careful not to use any magic because he thought he had plenty of enemies who would be able to see through any tricks he might try. So he hired an assassin to stab the new baby with a dagger that had been enchanted with poison. When the boy began to grow weak, he was taken away and cared for by a priest of the god Vishnu.

It was a great joy for Sita when she gave birth to a healthy young son, and she named him Ram because she hoped that he would someday become king and lead her people to safety. The first person Ram looked to for guidance was a very wise man whom Sita met while she was pregnant and who had traveled far and wide in the world before he’d come to stay in her father’s village.

She was grateful that he would take time out of his busy schedule to teach her son the best way to rule the people he would one day rule.

Ram had a teacher called Rishi who showed him the proper path. “Your duty as a king is to make certain your people live in happiness, but you can’t do this by taking advantage of them or treating them like servants,” said Rishi. “No matter what you decide, you must always keep your people happy.

If you’re kind to others, then they’ll be generous to you, and if you treat them badly, then they won’t respect you.”

When Ram was old enough to speak for himself, he agreed that Rishi was right. He understood that being a leader meant caring for others and giving them what they need to help them live happily.

And he knew that it was his responsibility to do something when the king did something wrong. If his father tried to take too much power or harm those who were helpless, Ram knew he should challenge him.

His father’s guards would probably stop him from fighting, but he wouldn’t let that stop him. He told his mother to go into the palace alone and ask the goddess Lakshmi if she thought he was a good man or whether he needed to be stopped.

He asked her to look at him and tell him what he ought to do. Then he waited in the garden near his parents’ house until night fell. Once the palace was closed up, Ram and his brothers went inside and snuck past the guards to see his mother.

Ram had brought along some of his friends who helped him climb up into a tree overlooking the palace. There was a narrow branch between two of its branches that they used to crawl onto the roof.

As soon as the gates were locked, Ram’s mother walked out of the palace with a lamp hanging from a string around her neck, lit from behind like a lantern. She came walking down the street, moving slowly, so no one could see anything she couldn’t hide if she wanted to.

Her head was covered with a cloth to prevent anybody from seeing her face, and she held her body close to her chest. As she passed the tree, she turned toward it and made as though she’d heard something, looking back at the house and peering into the darkness below the balcony.

She stood up straight and put on a bold smile, and she began to wave her hands in the air as though she hadn’t seen them in some time. It wasn’t long before Ram’s brothers climbed down from the tree and approached her, saying, “We’re sorry to disturb you, Mother, but we’ve come to bring you home.”

She smiled at them and bowed over their heads, which was a greeting they’d taught her for this occasion, but she didn’t say anything about why she’d gone there. They all walked to the house, and she led the way. Ram and his brothers kept their eyes on the ground, watching each stone and every crack in the road ahead.

The palace grounds were surrounded by a moat filled with water, and so when Ram’s family stepped through the front door of the palace, they found themselves suddenly underwater. The king’s soldiers had hidden under the water, waiting until the queen had left the palace before letting it spill forth again.

The men sprang up and ran after the children, trying to grab them from behind, but Ram was strong and fast, and he jumped away from them before they ever touched him. He was just as quick and agile in his movements as he was when he was running and swimming in the sea.

He moved across the floor of the palace quickly, jumping from window to wall to table, and the soldiers chased him without ever catching sight of him. One man even grabbed hold of his sister and lifted her up off the floor.

But Ram leaped from side to side and managed to knock them both aside, sending them flying against walls as he sprinted ahead. Then he took a few steps backward and kicked off his sandals before leaping into the air. When he hit the water, it sucked him down deep, so far that he could barely breathe.

They pulled him up, but Ram kept kicking, using his arms as he swam deeper into the palace where there was less pressure. Then they threw him on the floor and pinned him down. Ram struggled free and pushed one man away from him with such force that he smashed him into another soldier.

Both of them fell apart into splinters. After that, Ram ran on. They pursued him with spears and swords, swinging at him whenever they got within reach, but Ram easily dodged their strikes. He leaped over their heads and slid between their legs, then twisted beneath them and knocked them down while keeping his feet out in front of him.

He was too fast for them to catch. They shouted for their other comrades to join them, but Ram kept running.

One of the guards caught up to him. Ram swung one of his own knives at the man’s leg, but it only bounced off of his armor, and the guard continued to pursue him. Ram ducked into a hall and ran on until he burst into an empty room and hid under a bed.

But the guards were already in the room with him, and Ram felt his heart sink. He could feel his blood pounding through his body as they dragged him up from underneath the bed. He looked back and saw that his father’s guards had arrived, and so Ram decided he might as well give himself up.

“Father,” said Ram’s father’s general, “what have I done wrong?”

Ram knew the man was trying to apologize, but he hated his cowardice.

Then Ram’s younger brother Chitra came racing into the room and threw a knife directly at the general’s eyes. The blade stuck itself deeply into the man’s skull, right behind his ear, and the general let out a scream like a dying beast.

The guards grabbed hold of Ram while he fought to pull the knife out of the dead man’s head. Ram pushed the guards away from him and jumped to the side and landed on the floor. His mother screamed, but he ignored her and ran on.

Then two of his brothers came rushing through the doorway behind him, knocking over several people who were standing there eating dinner. It wasn’t unnecessarily dangerous, since the food was mostly soup, and the dishes broke easily when they hit the floor, but it was still very rude.

People started to scream, and the guards yelled to stop the boys. But then Ram heard the sound of more footsteps coming toward him, so he turned around, and the next thing he knew his oldest brother Giri stood there holding his long spear, looking furious.

He’d come alone, but he was bigger than either of his brothers, so Ram didn’t think he would be able to fight him on his own. At least, he hoped not.

He held his knife out in front of him and faced his brother, then turned to his mother and raised his hands above his head as he made a loud, angry noise. His mother put her hands over her ears.

Giri charged forward, ready to kill, and Ram dropped his knife and tried to get out of the way.

But Giri slammed straight into him before he could do anything, and their bodies connected hard enough that Ram flew back through the doorway and crashed to the floor outside of it. He landed in a pile of broken glass, which cut open his skin, leaving a trail of red blood that flowed through the shards.

Ram scrambled to his feet again, but Giri was faster. He grabbed a nearby sword and brought it down on Ram’s shoulder with all of his might. Ram grunted as he stumbled backward, but he kept pushing himself back up.

Then he leaped at Giri with both fists raised. The boy backed off and drew back his arm to throw the spear, but Ram grabbed onto the shaft and threw himself to the side as Giri hurled it at him. The point pierced straight through the doorframe, then bounced off the wall behind it and fell to the ground.

There were more soldiers charging through the doorway now, with more blades and bows ready to use against Ram.

Giri took advantage of Ram’s distraction to kick him in the gut. Ram went flying sideways and collided with a table, shattering a glass goblet and scattering wine across the floor. He lay there for a moment, feeling pain all throughout his stomach and chest, but he didn’t cry out or scream; he just stayed silent, waiting to see if he had any chance of getting away.

Then, out of nowhere, a man stepped between them: A warrior named Dara, dressed in chain mail and brandishing a massive axe, whose black hair was bound together with a metal headband. His face was covered by a helm, and he was wearing dark-brown leather armor.

“Stop!” he shouted at his brothers. “Stand down!”

They looked at each other and hesitated. Giri finally lowered his spear, as did his father’s men. They looked at Giri and Ram and nodded their heads.

Dara stared coldly at Giri and his father’s guards. Then he turned to Ram and asked, “Did you know your uncle?”

Ram shook his head no.

“Well,” said the warrior, “he must’ve been good to die for a traitor.” He kicked the dead man’s corpse and sent some of its guts spilling out of the hole in his stomach.

A few guards picked up the severed head and placed it back on top of the rest, then gathered everything up in their arms and left the room without a word.

Giri walked forward to stand beside Ram.

“You killed my father,” he said to Ram, his voice full of hatred. “I’ll make sure you pay for this, you little bastard.”

Ram wanted to tell the boy what he thought about that, but then the first guard came running after them. Ram tried to run, but the soldier caught him and wrestled him back into position. Then another followed him inside, along with three more men who’d come up the stairs behind them.

They grabbed hold of Giri and forced him to kneel in front of his father, then pointed their swords at Ram.

The End

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