want him back. I want my brother back,” she said over and over again. She knew it would not help. If only she had not fallen asleep last night. If only ... but it was too late for regrets. Maybe if she made a bonfire, wild animals would be attracted to her and then ... and then she’d be with him sooner.
Tara dragged herself up wearily. She groped her way to the bundles, dug out a candle, and lit it. She pushed it into the soil in the lee of a rock and searched for firewood. In the light of the flickering candle Tara gathered as much wood as she could and piled it on top of the ashes of last night’s fire. There was no wind and the candle burned straight and tall, throwing her gigantic shadow on the trees behind her. Once she had a big enough pile, she stepped back to survey it. This would burn through the night. Who knows, if she was lucky, she might not have long to wait.
As if on cue, a growl sounded in the distance and was followed by a long, low howl. Not long now.
She plucked up the candle to light the bonfire when a totally unexpected sound reached her. Tara froze, straining to hear the sound. There was silence. My imagination is running wild, she thought.
Tara had just bent to light the wood when a faint breeze stirred the leaves, bringing the same sound — again. Her hand shook and hot wax dripped onto it. She yelped and dropped the candle, which went out. She was in near-complete darkness. A sliver of moon peeped from the edge of a cloud. Who was sobbing in the middle of the forest? Tara did not relight the candle. She stood still and heard the sobbing start again. She walked toward it.
Don’t go, said the small voice inside her. Don’t go. But she kept walking. The sound was reeling her in, like a fish on a line. The faint light of the silvery moon barely lit the way but she was following her ears and her heart ... her heart? She was surprised that the sound of sobbing could move her so much. She walked deeper and deeper into the jungle and the voice grew louder.
“Mother, I miss you so much,” said a male voice, and Tara’s heart skipped a beat.
That voice. She’d heard it before, but never like this. She crept forward. A dark shape loomed directly ahead. Tara stuffed her knuckle in her mouth to stop from screaming. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she saw that the shape had not moved. She reached out a trembling hand. Her fingertips brushed a rough surface. She pressed her palms against it: cool stone. Her panic subsided a bit as she went on. Her heart ached and tears pricked her eyelids. The sound of sobbing had died away but she felt like crying, too.
What was it about this place? It was some kind of building, or temple. Suddenly she remembered that Parvati used to speak about an abandoned temple in the heart of the forest. Long ago it was used frequently. But something had happened that had caused the villagers to remove the deities of the holy trinity — lords Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva — move them to another location, and abandon this temple. The path to it was overgrown and most had even forgotten it existed.
Tara moved forward cautiously as thorny shrubs tore at her blanket. She rounded the corner, gasped, and ducked behind the temple wall. Her heart was hammering so loudly that she thought he would definitely hear it and come running at her.
She took a few deep breaths and the roaring in her ears lessened. She peered round the corner once again. Sitting on the stone steps was Zarku. He had his head in his hands and was sobbing uncontrollably. Tara shook her head. She closed her eyes and popped them open again, hoping the vision would disappear. But no, there he was. Except that Zarku was not sobbing anymore. He was holding up a silver thread, which glinted in the moonlight. Zarku held it up and watched it sway in the breeze. Suddenly, he made a fist and the silver thread disappeared into its depth.
“Mother, if you could see me now, you would be so proud of me. I am Zarku ... the best healer in all of India ... and I made it, all on my own.”
Zarku opened his palm and the silver thread glistened.
Tara strained to hear what Zarku was saying in a low voice. Maybe if she found out something about him, a weakness, she would be able to help Prabala defeat him.
“When you died, Mother,” continued Zarku, “you left me with Father, who blamed me for your death. He HATED me. Hated me so much that he wished I would die too. He told me so. The only thing he gave me freely and with love were curses and beatings.”
Zarku’s voice was hoarse as he said it and Tara felt tears pricking her eyelids. She was feeling sorry for this monster?
“And what did you give me, Mother? An ugly outgrowth on my forehead that people thought was another eye. Everyone teased me about it and beat me up over it.”
Zarku stood up and paced the clearing in front of the temple. Hidden by the stone steps, Tara prayed that he would not sense her presence. She held her breath as he came within a few steps of her and strode away, still ranting.
“I was ready to join you, Mother, tired of the beatings and the jeering. I went to the old well to drown myself ... but then ...,” Zarku giggled.
Tara cringed at the cruelty she heard in that soft giggle.
“Then I met him, my saviour, Kubera, the Lord of the Underworld. He promised me revenge. Revenge on all those who had mocked my deformity. He helped me, Mother. He turned my deformity into my greatest strength.”
Zarku caressed his third eye.
“This, Mother, is the eye that can see into the heart and mind. I can sense strength and weakness in people. And I can make then bow to my will.”
Tara sank to the ground trembling as she continued to clutch the blanket tightly. Now she understood why Zarku was destroying the villagers. He had made a deal with the Lord of the Underworld to avenge himself. They were all doomed unless someone could stop him.
Zarku had stopped pacing and was standing in front of a wooden post directly in front of the temple. He hung the silver thread from a sliver of bark and ran his fingertips along it, still talking.
“Mother, I’ve missed you. If you’d been here, things might have been different. But there’s no going back. I promised Kubera that in return for this gift, I would give him the souls of the undead. Once I had the villagers under my control, they would do my bidding and their souls would be Kubera’s. Only if someone turned them back to their human form would they be free. But that’s not going to happen, is it? Only one person can stop me: Prabala. And he’ll be dead soon.”
“NO!” yelled Tara.
Zarku’s head snapped in her direction.
Tara was aghast. She had not realized that she had yelled out and stood up at the same time.
Suddenly, she was staring into the deep, dark pools of Zarku’s eyes.
“Well, well, well, what have we here? Tara, isn’t it?”
Tara stared at him. How did he know her name?
“Yes, I know your name. And who your grandfather is, though he won’t be around for long,” said Zarku as he grabbed Tara and dragged her to the wooden post, flinging her against it.
The back of Tara’s head cracked with such force that she saw stars. She barely felt something cool slip past her cheek.
“You little busybody. Thought you could hear my secrets and tell everyone?” snarled Zarku.
The sobbing little
