Throne of Purvakhand

by ASHUTOSH RAI

  Book 1

  Of

  The Lost Age Series

  Ashutosh Rai

  Throne of Purvakhand © Ashutosh Rai.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Ashutosh Rai asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Ashutosh Rai

  Typeset and Interior design by Ashutosh Rai

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Ashutosh Rai

  Visit my website at www.iamatulrai.com

  Self-Published through Kindle Direct Publishing on January 01, 2018.

  To my grandfather, Shri Shyam Bihari Rai.

  For existence lies in belief

  For the shadows have secrets

  And secrets have their own shadows,

  The past has awaken

  For the secret behind the throne,

  For the eye that watches all

  He had returned,

  A curse bounding

  A curse powerful

  To riddle the present

  For the sake of revenge

  To write the future that is already inked,

  For things come out of desire,

  A tale never said,

  A story never heard

  The one whom future awaits,

  He himself is the dare and the dire.

  Acknowledgement

  Life itself is a fiction that has no end. Its every second is made up of innumerable characters, actions and emotions. Characters that had their own actions and emotions and they support us. No matter how big or small support you have. I am thankful to that every character of book of my life who supported me by standing at one side while I was busy to complete this book. Throne of Purvakhand. My friends Neelesh Mishra, Ayush Srivastava who were first listener of this story. Rajat Jaiswal and Amrit Mishra, my juniors in Saraswati and one of the most loyal friends I am blessed with. Ankit Dwivedi and Raj Krishna Sahi and Avnish Kushwaha., it were great day when I become a friend of yours. Hard work never gets fail if we don’t get fail to do it. Ujjwal Rai, Ashutosh Singh, Prakhar Tripathi, Samarth Agnihotri, and Suneel Daksha whom I met in Lucknow and of course they too had a role in completing of this book. They showed me that that there is always a moment to have a smile on your face even in your darkest day. The thing you need for that is Dare. Tension are just smokes and they will vanish with one blow of air.

  My old friends Abhishek, Ajay, Vishwadeep, Ashutosh Tiwari, Shubham, Kishan Nayak, Ashutosh Kumar, Deepak and Aamir and Shaswat and Adarsh. Thank you all for showing me that not every backbencher is always the worst in class. Everyone has a weak point. Some study great and some plays great. But we did everything awesome. We never thought to be perfect because it steals the chance to learn new things.

  My family, the greatest gift that I have. Sometimes we laugh, sometimes we anger and this little some happening had made our days great. My dearest are my brothers and sisters. It is true that they are notorious and many times I shout on them but it can’t neglect that my heart beats only for them. They are my true strength, the core of my soul. They have everything that I lack. My grandfather who is always with me in my memories. The childhood lessons he gave me are the treasures that I had collected.

  At last, my readers. You are amazing people. People who pick my book. People love and give critics. People who say where I should improve myself. Thank you for being such great. Thank you to pick my debut book for your read. I hope that we will go long. We will have a thrilling journey by this series.

  About The Series

  Heroes are saviours as we know till now. But not always because in certain conditions they sometimes unleash havoc. Sometimes a hero turns villain. This series chronicles the life of such a hero. A hero who lived in a world that existed millions years ago. But that was not our world. Today we live in first day of 51st year of lord brahma. A day of Brahma is called kalpa and night of brahma is called Adhi-sandhi. We are in the first day of the first month of lord brahma and this ongoing present kalpa is called "The Swetavarha Kalpa". Kalpa is Sanskrit word for aeon that means a particular very large span of time and the lost age series is set in time period of previous aeon: the Pitr kalpa, the last day of the fiftieth year of lord brahma. This is saga of two Rakshak and eight Ashtputras. The tragic legend of great warriors born in a time exhausted from dates of history of universe.

  The lost age series is journey of thrilling adventures of descendants of lord Vir, the first human lord. Let begin with the stories that collapsed with beginning of our world. Legends that happened in previous aeon: the Pitr Kalpa, literally the aeon of fathers.

  Silence has unnerved the brave. The smile crept on faces is enthralled in fear. A man took the task to vanish the fear crawling on souls. But it all was easy to say than to do and encounter the event, those are already planned by the Evil Lord and his acquaintances. The chaos has just begin. The secrets too have their own shadow, their own truth. He made his return, but not his complete return. He want his body and shadow back. He want himself to be complete so he can revenge. From everybody, from gods, from demons and even from humans. And so he is silent, till they approach to the throne, to the hidden door that had his body and shadow ensconced in. He too is waiting for them, the two Rakshak. His brothers in their first birth and his potential slayers in their current birth. They are on their journey, with hope that one day the great havoc sprawled over the world would diminish and there will be rays of the light of harmony. But they had their own nightmares. Before them there is world drenched in distress and hatred with few men of faith and care. The journey is long and the choice is difficult. Everyone has two faces, two sides. Everything is riddled. Even the truth. At last, it all will be their choice. The time of the world has come to its nearer end and the fate of tomorrow will be decided on their decision laid on cost paid for the past. The road of future has its foundation in shadows of deep past.

  Anantvir, the greatest hero of human had become the darkest threat to their existence. Now they call him the great evil lord Jakrant.

  What had happened that turned a hero into a villain?

  This saga of Anantvirum has truths that are kind and fiend. Sometimes the characters will laugh on no-thing and sometimes they will have their mouth clutched even on most humorous laughter.

  Throne of Purvakhand is the debut book in this series which will chronicle the legend of Ashtputras, Rakshaks and end of previous aeon. There are total four books. The three yet to come book are: Story of Ashtputras, Oath of Anantvir and Pralay of Jakrant.

  Anantvirum

  Beginning from the End

  Aura Of Annihilation

  The Curse Has Been Given. The Preparations are ready and then comes the storm and everything get ruined. He had made his return.

  (YEAR 431901, LAST KALIYUGA OF LAST MANVANTARA, 12th PITRA KALPA OF 50th YEAR OF LORD BRAHMA, in Angabhumi, the capital city of Virnagre on Ananthiya Hills in Purvakhand Continent of Previous Earth)

  The sounds of claps and applauds had ended with the last speech. People loved the last sentence their emperor had added in his speech. They were ‘We are safe’. The people Angabhumi, the capital of Virnagre, the Satyarathi and Arkja warriors, the priests of the Shiva temple and the councils of public elected ministers were enjoying their day wit
h their own talks and jokes. The queen was sitting on the throne beside the emperor’s one. Her first son Charan was standing behind her, calm as usual and her one day infant was playing with a necklace she had worn. It was made by gloxheiran silver found in Uttragrihab, the northern continent which lays always in winds of winter. Life is harder day by day and people there trudge day and night in search of kill in a much harsher climate than Angabhumi. There the women too face some virulent encounter that she could dare to think about. If there was anything in the world that was running all, then it was the greed of stomach and brain and power. The greatest problem was rapacity. Everyone was engaged to get more and more than need. But the big truth was that she does not have time to think about such shits of life. She is queen of a king who is an emperor of Purvakhand, the eastern continent, rich in everything a human wants and desire. She has great people and she damn love and care about them. For her they are her child and for them she is a goddess whom they pray every day in their hearts. She kept her gaze at the emperor lovingly. She gave a smile to him and he nodded. Fifteen years has been past to their marriage and now they even don’t need words to talk each other. It is their eyes which talk always. The emperor came near to her and took the baby Saras in hands. As he hold him to kiss the baby closed his eyes and started crying. He was tired.

  ‘He needs to sleep, Vikram’ said Rajmata Sraddha Devi. She was mother of Vikramchandra Vir, the king of Virnagre and emperor of the continent. ‘Or he is hungry, my son. Take him inside.’

  ‘Why not? Maa. I should.’

  ‘He is really naughty, Pita ji,’ said Charan touching gently the cheeks of his infant brother. ‘Yesterday when I came to see him and I took him and then he drenched me with his water. I had taken bath- a second time and even today in morning.’

  ‘That happens with everyone. And yes, this brother of yours is really naughty.’ This was another voice. This was Gita, the wife of Nandkant, the royal priest and an important figure among the Satyarathi warriors. She was a good archer and one of the beat Arkja warriors that Virnagre had ever seen. Arkja is a group of highly skilled and well trained lady warriors. The group was given name after the daughter of Anantvir. She was heroine of Manavdevasur War, the war between humans, gods and demons. Every Arkja warrior has their own specialty. Gita is a par excellence archer. Her records prove this. Her arrows can assault to distance of one Kos, literally 3.66 kilometres.

  ‘Gita Maa,’ screamed Charan with joy. This was he call her: Gita Maa. He loves the classes she gave to him. ‘Can we go the riverside? Mother will not allow me alone. She fears that crocodiles may harm me. I too fear them.’

  ‘Why not?’ We will but in evening. And today I will teach you that how can we overcome our fears.’

  ‘Thank you, Gita Maa.’

  ‘God bless you kid,’ said Gita and she combed her fingers in his hairs and waved gently as Charan moved to the Satyarathi warriors. She bellowed, ‘Well, Don’t forget the classes.’

  Charan bellowed back, ‘I will not.’

  ‘It is really difficult to manage with kids, Gita’, said the queen Mandheyaki. ‘You really make my work easy.’

  ‘It is my job my queen,’ said Gita courteously bowing.

  ‘Gita, I had a request’, said Mandheyaki holding Gita’s hand.

  Gita drew her hand, gulping. ‘My queen, you cannot request but order.’

  Mandheyaki’s face drew pale, concealing the disgust. ‘What happened Gita?’

  ‘You are my queen. We have some limits.’

  ‘Virnagre has no discrimination. A queen can befriend anyone of her kingdom and you are the closest relative to the royal blood.’

  ‘I know but then again there are some lines of honour and we should pay respect to them. You are good. You are kind, my queen.’

  A smile crept over the old blonde face of Rajmata, literally the queen mother. Rajmata said, ‘It is good that you pay respects to the lines of honour. A queen can’t befriend all but only top a queen or to a princess.’

  ‘Maa!’ interrupted Vikramchandra.

  ‘I has not finished my saying yet, Vikram. Pay attention.’ Yelled the queen mother staring Gita. ‘So where I was. Yes, I remember…. So, Gita I was saying that you respect the lines and it is good. Very good. You failed in obeying the limits completely. Charan is not your kid. He is Prince of Virnagre and tomorrow will rule this continent and I wish that you all will make him so strong that he may even win and rule the other four continents. So what should you call him?’

  ‘Mother! This is enough. We are the blood of Lord Vir and many great ancestors. They are prayed in temples and your these words will harm their honour,’ argued Vikramchandra. He turned to Gita. ‘Don’t be so submissive. You are not slave. You are an Arkja. Respect your honour. Respect your title you achieved. You can go.’

  Gita bowed and darted off.

  ‘This was not good. Even you were once a common citizen.’

  ‘I was daughter of the Prime minister of Virnagre. Not a common citizen,’ said the queen mother, frowning at words of her son.

  ‘She too is a princess of a great state. Her Abhiyudh is king of Kapikshetra. He is not here and this good, otherwise he and his Vanara army may had started revolt if he had knew that his sister is insulted.’

  ‘You are fearing from a bloody cursed human race. Once they were your slave. You are thinking like your uncle and his bastard son Elcleis. This is reason that your uncle died. Be away from those inferiors. You are head of a great civilisation and you should increase its glory. There are lands to conquer. Be an emperor of earth like Lord Vir.’

  ‘He was not an emperor,’ said Vikramchandra. His face was showing his expressions of disapproval. ‘He was a great warrior sage who helped Suras in defeating Asuras. I don’t want more land to rule. Purvakhand is enough.’

  ‘Vikram….’ panted the queen mother. ‘You are talking like that Elcleis and his Satyarathi friends. Are you grasping their inferior thinking? They hate our civilisation.’

  ‘They think better than you. Better than what father was thinking. No one is inferior but the thinking and doings. And this civilisation is of everybody and I am not its head but the people are. Civilisation is never of a single man. It is of people.’

  ‘You are fighting me for a mere girl from the deformed human race.’

  ‘No, I can never fight with you. You are my mother and she is no mere girl. She is an Arkja. Charan calls her Gita Maa. And she is not deformed but the men of country from where she belongs. And you know the reason of their deformation.’

  ‘You have changed in past thirty years’

  ‘I can’t argue you, Maa. It will be endless. It won’t worth.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ sniffed the queen mother, hardly concealing her anger. ‘Go and argue them whom you thing they worth it.’

  Elcleis, Dravid and Dirgha were sitting on thrones made for them. Steady and calm like they always sit. There was neither any expressions of joy nor any hint of miserable on the forehead of the three Satyarathi. Elcleis, the leader of Satyarathi warriors was the bastard son of Vikramchandra’s uncle Vrihadvir.

  ‘Are you three missing him?’ asked Charan firmly. He knew the pain penetrating them. Every storm has a name and a month before, a deadly storm had hit the walls of Angabhumi. A young man was cursed to be a vampire. He was Elcleis’ son Prayndiel. He with his mother and two years sister was infected. Nobody knows how they got infected by the virus. Vampires had been demolished ages before. He flew away but his mother and sister were left in sun to die. Elcleis himself had chained them but Prayndiel rescued somehow and now there is big bad news of people dying because of the virus or if escaped alive, they turned into a greater threat. A vampire and only Elcleis knows how bad it is to be a vampire. He had seen his family suffering because of the vampire virus.

  ‘It is all the game of destiny’, said Elcleis. He was having the best height. Fair white skin and brown hairs which were turning slowly in white and a long beard. His grey eyes wer
e filled with radiant and secrecy. ‘Sometimes for a greater good, we do a greater sin. We should keep moving ahead instead of thinking of the lost. This is not an occasion to talk on these past matters. This moment ask a small smile and a great laughter talk.’

  ‘One day everything will be fine.’

  ‘I know and I hope someday it will be.’

  A voice interrupted them. ‘Do you saw the new gift?’ asked Dirgha. He was a dwarf but not tubby. He had maintained his body. His brown face and black hairs under his silver diadem which had craved an eagle on it, makes him noticeable. ‘It is a sword made of Toerian Steel. The finest on Land of Purvakhand made in this age. Beautiful and thick rapier. Made only for you. I had kept it in the Satyarathi hall near my chair in a green scabbard placed on the silver stool. It is designed by the Nweriar the old. You will love the foliage design carved on it. He is a great blacksmith in land of Toer Dwarfs.’

  ‘I really wish to have it. I had read about Nweriar the old. He really make good swords. One like that of yours and Mengor the brace.’ A small smile had crept over face of fifteen years old Charanchandra.

  A massive voice interrupted them.

  ‘And I brought a shield made by Redrian iron. Not easy to hold but you will when you will be young. You will find it next to the Toerian steel sword. It is simple and a face of roaring bear is made on it. A sword man really needs a shield.’

  It was Dravid. The king of Rikkshar. His body was largely haired and his nosed was tossed round like a bear. The people of his lands, the Redra Pradesh resembles the look of a bear. They are brave and usually warm minded but Dravid was the most calm of them and so selected as their leader. For three generations his family had leaded the Rikkshar race of Nirmanava People. Nirmanava are deformed human. It is said that they are cursed to born and die deformed. Only the girl child are not found deformed except in case of the dwarfs. The Dwarfs are originally before the human origins. They were mountain dwellers of the east. They are brave and conspicuous minded. They were categorized as Nirmanava about two ages before when King Amishnath Vir had ordered to redefine the word Nirmanava. Before it meant once who is not human but after redefinition it become a human born with deformities. He was good surgeon and his books says that these people are deformed because of a disease he called Nirmanuisab. He was amazed that only men are attacked by the disease not the woman. It create certain deformities in body bones and tissues which cannot be cured. It even gave them some special powers. Like dwarfs are long aged quick minded. Rikkshar are amazingly strong man of flesh and immune. Vanara can climb like monkey and are too a calm race in matter of words and observations but not in action. The Phanin has venom in their body which only excretes when they want it to.