Deathsworn: Siddhi Chronicles Book 1

by H. K Oby

  Rishi had grown bigger since he had last seen him. It hadn’t been that long, but the guy definitely filled out his clothes better. His demeanor had also changed, imperceptibly, day by day, until he was slowly becoming someone who would be unrecognizable from the coward he had been before.

  “Amin…are you okay? Don’t worry. We will find a way out of it, I promise!”

  “Yes, putting our heads together, we will be able to figure out something. Just don’t panic.”

  It seemed like the greatest joke in the world that he was being told by the number one panicker in the world did not panic. In fact, Rishi was even panicking while he told Amin not to panic, as if panic was the only constant emotion on the back of his mind, springing to the forefront even when it was uncalled for.

  Deep concern shone in Amaira’s eyes, those lovely, iridescent pearls he wished he could gaze at for a long, long time.

  He knew he was going crazy, but he didn’t really want to stop the descent into madness. It was comforting, like a dry blanket found in a house on fire, but he was abruptly pushed out of it by a slap that he saw coming but did nothing about. Even when Amaira’s hand connected with his cheek, all he remarked was that her skin had grown rougher since that first time he had shook her hand, but a moment later, the pain arrived, the strength of a member of Ayodhya displaying itself.

  The food that was served every day was special, containing a secret ingredient the nurse had apparently boasted about, once, when Rishi had landed in the infirmary after a spar with someone far too powerful for him. His intention had been to find out the gap between himself and someone who was considered strong, and the answer had sent the guy into a constant half-panicked mode for an entire week.

  The ingredient enabled all those who consumed it to grow stronger by a fraction of a percent a day, until with time, all those who were capable enough to be in Ayodhya for long enough had strength and endurance far beyond what any mortal outside would be capable of. Amaira had jokingly called it ‘natural steroids’, and Amin had commented that it was an apt moniker.

  The rambling in his mind slowed down when the pain didn’t recede, instead growing with each second where he came back in touch with reality. After a few seconds, he was finally forced to exit the cocoon he had entered, coming face-to-face with what he didn’t want to face at the moment.

  He got up, stretched to make sure no bones had been broken in his fall, went to the door, looked at the sky, patted down a lump of mud on the ground, smoothened his clothes, massaged where he had been hit by Amaira, and then finally turned to face his companions. During all that time, he forced himself to enter the highly calculating mode that he had often relied on to get out of sticky situations, and now, with his attempt nearing success, he clasped his hands behind his back and asked the question that had come to him a few moments ago.

  “When did the announcement arrive? Exactly?”

  Rishi cocked his head, as if gauging whether Amin was crazy because he was asking nonsensical questions. Amaira frowned with concern, but after seeing that he was serious and looked to be entirely in control of himself, she answered, “We found out about it 15 minutes before we came here. The guy who announced it said that it had just come, so even if we take some human error into account, it can’t be more than 20 minutes.”

  Amin let out a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding. The two looking at him had no idea, but he had just obtained conclusive proof that the gods really did want to kill him.

  There can’t be such an extraordinary coincidence. Just when I made concrete progress in learning a siddhi, they make the trials impossible to pass? No, they are gods, so they must have been watching. Maybe they believed the trials would be enough to finish me off, but after seeing what happened, they might have changed their minds. But why? What did I even do to them? All of my asking around established that the first elder really was right. There have been initiates who accidentally killed or caused the deaths of innocent civilians, and there were others who were even worse scammers than me, scammers who targeted the old and the helpless. I’m nothing special, at least if you take into account my background. Then why are they holding such a huge grudge? Why do they want to ensure that I die? Why can’t they just mind their own damn business and enjoy the immortality that anyone would wish they had? I want to sit them all down and set their immortal asses on fire. Fuck them!

  He didn’t even want to think about how the first elder and others would react if they heard how he was cursing the Gods. Controlling the red-hot film that almost covered his eyes and storing it carefully for a time and place where it could be used to maximum effect, he spoke in an impassive voice.

  “You’ll be wondering about that hole soon, so I’ll just answer now. I managed to figure out the siddhi of self-propulsion. At that exact moment, the gods communicated their announcement. I do not believe in coincidences, especially when they’re so convenient. I need some time alone to think. I’ll find you guys later; go back to what you were doing.”

  Rishi looked like he was ready to argue. A few weeks ago, he would have closed his mouth and walked out, but he was already growing bolder. Of course, a single look from Amin still silenced him, he bit his lips, as if still not convinced that he should stay silent.

  Amaira looked at him for what felt like a long time, the thoughts in her head privy only to herself as she showed no indication of them on her face. Amin just met her gaze unwaveringly, keeping his mind still so that he wouldn’t expose exactly how shattered he felt.

  Finally, she nodded. She stepped forward and hugged him, but before he could hug her back, she moved away at lightning speed, saying, “Just remember that you have us. We won’t be going back to what we were doing; we’ll start looking for ways to help you, even if it means we have to ask questions that will punish us. No, don’t say anything. Just trust us. Rely on us, please. I know how hard it is because of your background, but try. Friends exist exactly for moments like these. No matter who or what comes in our way, we will fight through them. We’ll see you later.”

  She walked out the door, Amin staring at her back with feelings that felt so entangled he couldn’t even begin unraveling the knot that signified what he felt. Rishi bobbed his head as if emphasizing what Amaira had said and walked out too, closing the door behind him.

  He held a count of ten, then let go of his iron control. Like a balloon that was punctured, everything that had been holding him up went out of him in a single second. His shoulders slumped, his eyes fell to the ground, unfocused, his hands hung limply at his sides and even his knees buckled, as if they couldn’t hold his weight anymore.

  He sat down on the bed and tried to collect himself. Over and over again, the thought that he was up against gods who couldn’t be opposed tried to crush him, but he kept it at bay.

  I should think of everything I’ve achieved here. When I first came into this hut, it was all so hopeless! Now, I was so close to success! I can find a way out of this, too. Yes, I have to believe this. I couldn’t have done it without the help of those two vanaras. Wait…why don’t I seek out help now, too? Haven’t I always insisted that I should never be too proud to ask if I need to find out something from an expert? This is the same.

  He considered his options. The first elder wasn’t a very good one as he hadn’t actually helped him in any manner. The supervisor was way better, but Amin didn’t have the energy to deal with the man’s airs and his personal goal to be considered a respected persona.

  That left the best option: the librarian.

  Having something to do had always managed to give him the energy and will to move forward even when all seemed lost. Getting to his feet, he walked out the door with the stride of someone with no time to waste. Right before he closed it behind him, a sudden thought made him grin wickedly with no mirth and flipped off the air.

  Are you guys watching? Fuck you all. Oh, that felt satisfying. But wait, will it make them want to kill me more? Eh, that doesn’t even matter. The
y’re already doing everything possible to squash me like a bug. How much worse could it get?

  Trying to keep such morbid thoughts at bay, he reached the library where the vanaras greeted him as enthusiastically as if he had gone for years. She had to fend away the attention of almost a hundred of them, each and every one intent on finding out how he was doing and whether there was anything they could do to help.

  He would have shamelessly put his problem in front of them if they were all gods in disguise, but he doubted that was the truth. Dodging them all as politely and quickly as he could, he entered the library and stopped, finding the librarian nowhere in sight.

  Close your eyes and say my name, and if you really need me, I will appear.

  The need he felt was more substantial than any he had ever had to deal with in his life. Closing his eyes, he muttered ‘librarian’ while hoping desperately that he wasn’t acting like a delusional fool for nothing.

  “Oh, I see you’ve met with some success! You’ve made this old one very happy. I won a bet!”

  He wished that he wasn’t in a situation where the old vanara’s words only caused irritation. He wished he could celebrate with the one responsible for his achievement, but time was of the essence.

  “I need to… I don’t know what I need. But right now, I’ll settle for advice and some words of encouragement. This is how it is…”

  He laid out everything, standing there at the door of the library. There was a reason the clearing outside was allowed to be filled with raucous vanaras: a spell of silence around the building meant that none of the vanaras outside could hear him, and there was no one nearby in the cavernous place. Rishi—who loved to find out random things and talk about them to anyone who would hear— had told him about it, and the three of them had been flabbergasted to find that spells existed but were an advanced form that they couldn’t even ask about, yet.

  For some time after he was done, only silence reigned. Seething from the injustice of what was happening, he hardly noticed the reaction of the librarian. His eyes were on the ground, thinking up innovative ways in which he could get back at the gods, but from the corner of his eye, he saw a face that was as red as the sun, glowing from within as if the very skin of the vanara was made up of diamonds.

  The luminescence lasted barely a second, leaving behind the same old kind librarian who did look solemn, now, his kind smile nothing but a memory. Amin was tempted to believe that he had imagined it, but a sudden realization made him stop.

  That’s just foolish. I’ve already imagined one thing around this old man; again, it can’t be coincidental that something else incredible has happened. He must be someone powerful, like Narad. Maybe he’s someone who has accumulated strength over the years, like the sages that Rishi was so enamored with.

  A few weeks ago, Rishi had burst into Amin’s hud with Amaira in tow and started a long discourse about some information he had found out. It was regarding human sages like the first elder who could meditate for long periods, reciting the mantra of a specific God, receiving power from that entity and storing it in their body, ready to be unleashed at a moment’s notice. He loved the idea so much for some reason, even going so far as to ask Shanker about it the next day, but a quick pummelling in the sparring ring put it out of his head, accompanied by a warning from the sparring instructor that he would be graced with such attention every day if he didn’t stop aiming for things that were beyond his reach at the moment.

  “Come with me.”

  Turning around, the elder walked along the wall, passing rows of shelves that stood without a speck of dust even though Amin had never seen anyone cleaning in here. They walked for 10 minutes; the place was so big that even then, they had only crossed half of it, but reaching a spot that looked no different from the rest of the library, the librarian stopped.

  He looked around, ensuring that no one was watching them. There were only two people in the library, now, and they were so distant that they were barely visible. Still, their heads could be seen bent intently over books, so with a satisfied nod, the librarian turned to the bookshelf and tapped on a wooden plaque that read ‘Row H’.

  The plaque glowed faintly with a yellow light, and as Amin watched with his job going slack, a section of the bookshelf moved back then opened, splitting exactly down the middle.

  Squinting, he tried to see anything noticeable that set this wooden plaque apart from the rest, but there was nothing.

  He felt like he was in a spy movie, and he would have honestly been enjoying it if not for his predicament. Filled with intrigue regarding just what the hell was going on, he stepped into a well-lit room that looked like an office.

  There was an empty wooden desk to his left, made simply yet sturdily, and a similarly made chair stood behind it. A map of the world was on the stone the chair was set in front of. There was no other furnishing in the room, the rest of the walls standing bare. The air smelled slightly stale, as if it was a place that had remained closed for a long time.

  Not even glancing at the desk, the librarian moved forward and tapped randomly on one of the stones in the wall right across from where they had entered. That stone glowed with the same sort of light as the plaque, and in the same manner as before, a section of the wall shifted inward and opened.

  The room they entered next made Amin let out a low whistle. Lamps like those that lit the library at night were placed at even intervals on undecorated wooden pedestals, and behind each of these was a long two-sided cupboard with no doors. Amin reckoned he would have to take at least 20 steps to get to its end, where there was another similar wooden pedestal against the far wall on which another lamp stood, lighting the place.

  An assortment of objects that looked useless at first glance adorned the open cupboards. Broken toys, used chalks, hairpins, and other items equally boring had been dumped all over the three shelves until there wasn’t an empty spot visible. The word ‘useless’ could only be used in relation to the first cupboard he saw, though; the moment he moved on to observe a different one, his heart sped up.

  Weapons. Weapons of all shapes, sorts, and sizes filled that cupboard, each one taking up a separate space apart from the others. Looking closely, he saw that in front of each was a wooden plaque like the one that spelled out the rows in the library outside, marked by just a number.

  The librarian’s calm voice made him turn toward the old vanara.

  “I’ve always been an excellent judge of character. I brought you here now, itself because I think I know what your decision will be. If I’m wrong, it is still alright; we can pretend that none of this ever happened. I’ve taken an interest in you since we last spoke. You remind me a bit of myself in my youth. I was born privileged, but without that never-give-in attitude we both possess, I would never have gotten far. I feel like helping you, for no other reason than to relive the memory of days past. I have a particular piece of advice for you. Actually, it is more accurate to call it a plan. To have any hope of passing the trial, you must find out why the gods hate you so much and look for a way to appease them. In history, there have been many instances when people with the means were able to discern the answer you seek and perform sacrifices or rituals that changed their situation. I am not talking about initiates or Deathsworn; no, I speak of Kings and Queens whose lives were repeatedly affected until they found the root cause and addressed the issue. The word ‘sacrifice’ may sound scary, but isn’t it better than failing in the trials? I’ll leave that up to you.”

  Amin had taken a step back, imagining himself having to cut off his hand or something all men considered far more precious. From the sick way in which they had been mentally torturing him so far, he didn’t put such demands below the gods, but after a few seconds of thought, he had to admit that the librarian was right.

  If he was alive, he could bide his time. Who knew? In this magical world, even if he had to give up a limb, there might be a way to grow it back.

  And if there wasn’t, he was confident that he
would find a way to make each and every god pay.

  That wish, more than anything else, made him nod.

  A smile broke upon the librarian’s face that had been serious until now. Nodding to himself, he said, “Right again. This is what you will have to do: find the sage Jahitya. He is one of the kindest alive. There are others, but they would sooner burn you to ash for disturbing them than listen to your problem and help. You must go to where he was last known to be. I’m afraid there is some bad news, here. Have you heard of the patalas?”

  Amin frowned, racking his brain, but a moment later, he shook his head and replied, “I have heard of it, but I never did find out what they are, exactly.”

  Letting out a breath, the librarian said, “Then this will be shocking. The patalas are the realms below the earth, in a way. We don’t have very long, so I have to make this short. The gods are part of an ancient race called the Asuras. Since antiquity, they have fought their brothers who are quite different from them, but just as powerful. These creatures live in these realms, places of divine beauty and wealth that actually put even heaven to shame. These realms are also the home of the rakshasas that assault us now. You will have to go to one of these realms to find the sage, but worry not: the destination is supposed to be empty, for the most part, right now.”

  Amin had stuttered the moment he heard that he would have to venture into the home of the villainous beings who were the very reason behind the existence of the Deathsworn. From the fantastic powers needed to counter them, he could guess how strong they must be, so the fact that he would now have to wade into the middle of their home made him feel no small amount of apprehension.

  He was never afraid to admit to himself that he was afraid, as he knew exactly how powerful the emotion could be if used correctly. He also knew how dangerous it was if one came close to succumbing to it, so he kept a tight rein on himself, stopping the trepidations that were making his hands shake.