The Charioteer..1

He knew the time had come, as he stopped the graceful flight of the dark horses with a single flick of the wrist.

He was but a bystander to the greatest battle that would ever be fought, for centuries to come, and he smiled as he thought of how it all came to this, the symbolic war of black against white. It took a lot of doing, a lot of goading, some of it with his help, to bring the goodness finally in resounding strength against the dark warlords.

But he was just a Charioteer, a friend of the warriors, as chosen by those who knew His worth. He smiled at the recollection of how easily the evil prince had fallen for his simple offer; he could take the Charioteer or his army. No match, the prince’s wit against His. With a look of utter disbelief, at how easy the offer was, the evil prince settled for the army, something He had counted on. The truth was, his clan were fierce warriors, and anyone with His army, could strike terror in all the parallel worlds, just by the twang of their mighty bows.

On the other hand, the exiled princes, he wasn’t sure, how they would react, for he went with the same offer to them. But none of them wavered, none of them flinched, when the eldest asked for Him, to be on their side, it didn’t matter, that He had promised not to touch a single weapon of destruction. With humility, and reverence, they requested Him to stay the war with them; the side of the just; and He happily agreed, knowing now, that they had passed His final test.

The war bugles were blown; an eerie silence had covered the battle field, the stench of anticipation touching everyone with long cold burning fingers, the weapons ready to be infused with their own life, breathed in with the skilful hands of their masters. It felt like an illusion, just moments before the thundering hooves had pierced the sky like a double edged dagger, the elephants had stomped in impatience on the scent of blood to come; and the royal chariots had rolled with pride into the vast battlefield.

To be continued...