Rana: Day Sixteen

Fierce battles on day sixteen

The sixteenth day of Kurukshetra brings battles that shake the earth. Karna, now in command, proves himself worthy of the responsibility, matching Arjuna shot for shot, holding the Pandava advance, and inspiring his demoralized army. But beneath the clash of weapons, the curses and prophecies that have haunted him since youth begin to stir.

Dawn of the Sixteenth Day

The sun rose blood-red over Kurukshetra.

Karna stood in his chariot, surveying the battlefield where so many had already fallen. Fifteen days of slaughter had reduced the armies to shadows of their former strength. The Kauravas, who had begun with eleven akshauhinis, now fielded barely four. The Pandavas, though fewer in original number, had suffered proportionally less.

"The men look to you," Shalya observed from his charioteer's position. "They've lost Bhishma and Drona. They need to see you fight."

"They will."

"And win?"

Karna smiled grimly. "They will see me fight."

The Battle Formations

Karna had chosen a simpler formation than his predecessors, the Makara Vyuha, shaped like a crocodile, with himself at the head. Its virtue was flexibility rather than complexity.

Across the field, Arjuna had arranged the Pandavas in the Ardha Chandra, the half-moon, with himself and Bhima forming the horns that would attempt to encircle the Kaurava formation.

"They mean to surround us," Shalya noted.

"Let them try. The crocodile is difficult to swallow."

The Morning's Fury

The conches sounded, and battle was joined.

Karna drove directly toward the Pandava center, his arrows clearing a path through the enemy ranks. Unlike Bhishma's measured assault or Drona's strategic probing, Karna's attack was direct, brutal and brilliant.

Nakula and Sahadeva moved to intercept him. Karna dispatched both within minutes, not killing them (bound by his promise to Kunti to spare four of her sons), but wounding them enough to remove them from the fight.

"I could kill you," he said to Nakula, their chariots briefly side by side. "Remember that."

"Then why don't you?" Nakula demanded, blood streaming from a wound on his shoulder.

"Because some debts are paid in ways the creditor doesn't understand."

Before Nakula could respond, Karna had moved on, seeking worthier opponents.

Clash with Bhima

The real challenge came when Bhima intercepted Karna's advance.

The second Pandava was everything Karna was not, massive where Karna was lean, dependent on strength where Karna relied on skill, driven by rage where Karna fought with cold precision.

"Sutaputra!" Bhima roared, swinging his mace. "I've waited a long time for this!"

"You've been busy fulfilling your vows against the Kauravas," Karna replied, loosing an arrow that forced Bhima to raise his mace in defense. "How many of Dhritarashtra's sons have you killed so far?"

"Enough. But not nearly all."

Their battle raged across the battlefield, drawing the attention of both armies. Karna's arrows found their marks, piercing Bhima's armor in a dozen places. But Bhima kept coming, his mace shattering everything it touched.

He doesn't feel pain, Karna realized. Or he's learned to ignore it.

After nearly an hour of combat, neither had gained a decisive advantage. Karna's chariot was damaged; Bhima's body was covered in wounds. Both withdrew by unspoken agreement, knowing the war had other battles to fight.

The Duel Everyone Waited For

Then, finally, Karna and Arjuna faced each other.

The battlefield seemed to pause. Soldiers on both sides stopped fighting to watch. Even the gods, it was said, leaned forward in their celestial seats.

"We've waited a long time for this," Arjuna said.

"Since the tournament at Hastinapura."

"Yes." Arjuna's voice was strange, almost wistful. "I was cruel to you that day. I shouldn't have let Kripacharya humiliate you."

"You didn't stop him."

"I was young. I thought the rules mattered." Arjuna raised his bow. "I know better now."

The arrows began to fly.

Arrow Against Arrow

No scribe could capture the speed of what followed. Arrows met arrows in mid-air. Divine weapons countered divine weapons. Both chariots moved with supernatural precision, Krishna driving for Arjuna, Shalya for Karna.

Karna fired the Bhargavastra, the weapon of Parashurama himself. Arjuna countered with the Aindrastra, Indra's own weapon.

Arjuna released a shaft that could have split a mountain. Karna deflected it with three arrows of his own, each one striking Arjuna's shaft at a different point along its trajectory.

"Magnificent," Krishna murmured, even as he guided Arjuna's chariot away from danger. "I've never seen anyone match Arjuna so completely."

"Is he better than me?" Arjuna asked, a strange question in the middle of mortal combat.

"Different. You have advantages he doesn't. He carries burdens you can't imagine."

"What burdens?"

Krishna didn't answer.

The Stalemate

As the afternoon wore on, a pattern emerged: neither archer could defeat the other.

Karna would gain an advantage, press forward, nearly land a killing blow, and Arjuna would counter, recovering lost ground. Arjuna would find an opening, exploit it perfectly, and Karna would somehow survive, his instincts or his fate keeping him alive.

"This is taking too long," Shalya observed during a brief respite. "The army needs you leading them, not dueling one man."

"This is the duel that matters," Karna replied. "Everything else is decoration."

"And if you lose?"

"Then I die as I should have died at that tournament, facing the man they said was better than me." Karna's eyes found Arjuna's chariot across the churned earth. "But I won't lose. Not today."

The Day's End

Sunset came without a victor.

Both armies withdrew, exhausted. The Pandavas had made no significant gains; the Kauravas had held their lines. For the first time since the war began, Duryodhana went to sleep with hope.

"You fought well," he told Karna in the command tent. "Better than Bhishma. Better than Drona."

"I fought to a draw against Arjuna."

"A draw against Arjuna is a victory. No one else has managed even that."

Karna accepted the praise without pleasure. He knew something Duryodhana didn't, something even he couldn't fully articulate.

I matched him today because the curses haven't struck yet. Parashurama's curse, the Brahmin's curse, they wait for the moment that matters most.

Tomorrow, or the day after, I will face Arjuna again. And one of those times, my knowledge will fail me at the crucial moment. My wheel will sink. My weapons will not answer.

Today was a gift. Tomorrow may be the reckoning.

The Night's Thoughts

In the Pandava camp, Arjuna sat with Krishna, cleaning his weapons by firelight.

"I couldn't beat him," Arjuna said. "I've defeated gods and demons. Why can't I defeat Karna?"

"Because you're evenly matched in skill," Krishna replied. "And because he fights with something you don't have."

"What?"

"Desperation." Krishna's voice was gentle. "You fight knowing you will probably win. He fights knowing he will probably die. That changes things."

"Is he going to die?"

"Everyone dies, Arjuna."

"You know what I mean."

Krishna was silent for a long moment. "Yes. Karna will die. Not today, perhaps not tomorrow, but before this war ends. The curses he carries ensure it."

"What curses?"

"That's not my story to tell." Krishna stood. "Sleep now. Tomorrow, the battle continues. And soon, you will have to do what no one else can do, end the greatest rivalry of your age."

Arjuna looked at his hands, the hands that had matched Karna arrow for arrow.

He's my equal. Perhaps more than my equal.

And I'm going to kill him.

Somewhere in the darkness between the camps, jackals began to howl, the sound of death already celebrating its coming feast.