When I Tell You A Story: Book 1 (Black River Trilogy)

by Himalaya Goswami

  He took a pause, to think. They money had arrived, in the form understood by mafias and smugglers. ‘Yes. .I have the hawala receipts of around. . 20 bil ion euros.’

  Raman patted his forehead in disapointment.‘I am sure they are nothing but blank coupons and you are nothing but…. Guha’s bitch.’

  Qadri took it as an insult. He lost his temper and opened his mouth like a dog upon seeing a scary sranger. ‘I’l break your fucking jaws, bastard,’ and his punch gushed toward Raman, destined to damage his dental.

  The trick is working.

  As his punch was about to land on Raman’s face, he bent down to survive the attack and touched the blue stone on Qadri’s other hand, inside which the yel ow stone was hussling to free itself. The mad stones needed one more push, and Raman’s trick had done just the same . The blue stone clung to his hand’s back where Raman had adjoined it.

  Qadri staggered as he missed the shot, and by the time he could realize what was happening, the stones had made up their minds. The two stones were not stuck together on either side of Qadri’s hand like two magnets on the sides of a paper.

  The blue stone, in the shape of an egg was stil and firm as ever, and the yel ow stone turned itself upside down, so now its open part was over Qadri’s lines of fate. The yel ow stone started rotating.

  Qadri wasn’t believing anything that he was experiencing.

  “THis can’t be real. None of it,’ he shrieked.

  ‘Actual y, Mr. Qadri. .This is the closest to reality you’l ever be.’

  The rotation kept on increasing. It was as intense as a massive cyclone that can uproot vil ages in a single stroke. Qadri could feel the heat and spin, as if the typhoon of fire just licked his ass. The reeling stone il uminated a yel ow no one

  had ever imagined existed. Fol owing the yel ow stone, blue stone ignited his glow, of blue plasma.

  Qadri perceived the heat and hustle, and this did freeze his brain for once. His annoyance was overtaken by dismay and terror, as planned by Raman. Only he didn’t know, fear leads to hatred and hatred brings chaos.

  At one moment, Qadri’s heart skipped some beats as the thoughts of fear gripped his mind, fear of a brutal death. That is what everyone fears: a painful death. And in the other moment, it was the greed that took over him. And lust. Like it always happens, a human heart is easily corrupted. It was impossible for him to step back now, when he had a competition and a reputation at stake. of spaces between his fingers,might closed his fist, and writhed out in pain as his palm baked in the stone’s heat. and his hand began to shake terribly, like a trembling hose pipe at extreme water pressure.

  Raman left his hold over his stone and it remained clutched to Qadri’s hand, gripped by its mate on the other side.Qadri jerked his hand, each time increasing the intensity with which he shook his hand.

  Irritated, he smashed his hand on the floor and roared in pain. The stones were dril ing in his palm. Shivering in fear, he closed his fist again.

  The power is mine.

  The two were at war with each other, the stone and the scarred man. His veins showed up as he buried his fingers in his own flesh, dominating his hold on the stone in his closed fist. Yel ow light puffed out of the spaces between his fingers.

  He blanketed his other hand over it to stop the stone from fleeing away, as he assumed. But the radiation made its way through his flesh and blood.

  A sensation# ran through the nerves of his hand and they tingled as a crest ran through them. His nerves swel ed, but he it didn’t matter anymore. He was perplexed it was a test, as Guha had once told him.

  The power is testing me. It chose me.

  The stone dril ed his palm from inside, and the splashes of blood reddened the inner, inverted surface of the stone. Blood drops found their way of Qadri’s double handed hold on the things that had become the ultimate goal of his life.

  Not even in his dreams had he dreamt of such a thing. At first he didn't want to believe in any of this, but it was stupid not to do so. He couldn't take risks, anyways. Meanwhile, Raman sneaked out of the view and went to find Namrata.

  She was in the chamber where Qadri’s men had dragged her, and she was stil on the floor, unconscious and ruined. Raman lifted her up and placed her on a cushion. Her breaths were steep, as if something weighed on every air she took in.

  Raman put her head in his lap, and closed his eyes as he struggled with tears. If you want to die, my sweetheart, die knowing your life was my life’s best part. Stretto, the newly appointed apprentice was doing his job of hiding Ipsa perfectly wel . He didn't see them as his weakness anymore. But i won't give the pig any chance to weaken me. Kissing her on forehead, Raman quickly scanned the room, and found what he was looking for without much efforts. A purple bag broke out of the locked almirah and fel in his feet. He opened the ultra secure bag, that had biometric locks and nerve sensors. Digging through the papers, he found a bunch of white slips of paper bundled together. And what he saw left his eyes open and cold. Could this be true?

  A noise outside pul ed Raman’s attention and he rushed out of the chamber to see what had happened. It was Qadri. Everything above the wrist on his left hand had disappeared, or exploded. Al in the name of a hand left was a wrist around with loathes of flesh had stuck, and it had turned into a fountain of blood. Qadri looked at his opened hand, from where bone and muscles hung, and discovered he could make people deaf by screaming. But the pain was a lot more than his sound, however bel owing it be.

  32

  Raman took a round around Qadir, who had withered on the floor. His wounded hand shivered on the ground like a pressurized hose pipe, then stil ed, as if death had gripped him. His eyes had closed, and goons, who had hid themselves in the safe spots came out with seasonal toads, and gathered around their piggy boss.

  Terrified of Raman, they made sure not to disturb his instincts. The stones were nowhere in sight.

  ‘He hadn’t paid us yet,’ said a broad, black goon with a deadly face.

  ‘He isn’t dead, elephant. ’

  ‘But why wouldn’t he wake up then?’

  Nobody had an answer. The ever loyal goons were being sympathetic for their

  tragic loss.

  ‘He told me something before he….passed away,’ Raman interrupted their silent

  mourning.

  Al the eyes turned to him. ‘He gave me these slips,’ and pul ed out a bundle from

  his back pocket. ‘He asked every two of you to share one slip.’ He passed the

  bundle to them and they distributed the slip among themselves,

  Their eyes glimmered upon reading the slip; knowing each one would have a

  mil ion rupees as a reward for thir service. After reading the slip, al eyes turned

  back at Raman, who had no idea what the hel was step two.

  ‘And…’ he coughed, ‘he said you’d work for me now.’

  ‘Why didn’t he say this to us himself?’

  ‘Good question. You’re in.’

  Goons pul ed out their weapons and pointed at him, and Raman replied with a

  sacrastic laugh, as if asking, ‘Real y?’

  A gun went up in the air and al the remaining ones touched the floor.

  ‘Good goons,’ Raman exclaimed, ‘I can tel you why he chose me to lead you,

  despite al our indifferences….but that’l require you to hear a story.’

  ‘I love stories. My mother used to tel me one, of a whore and the sailor,’ said a

  short man, excitement brimming him. .

  ‘I’m sure that whore was your mom,’ a man passed a comment and everyone burst

  out in a bel y laugh.

  ‘The story of Sun, Moon and the muse,’ Raman countered their laughter and

  everyone silenced up again to hear him.

  ‘The muse…’ everyone said together, in a sense of utmost wonder.

  Raman began his narration of the tale that he had told many times, to many

  people, many
times. And the listeners always responded in a similar pattern, of

  obedience and immense dedication for the tel er. Then, they told the truths that

  they spent their lives hiding, and protecting. Listeners turned to vigilantes, or

  victims; their fate in the hands of the man pul ing the strings. It was just a mask

  that he gave them, and they just showed him the truth.

  // muse tale

  From the days of muse when she acquired the stone from the alchemist, of high

  mountains, life turned out a bliss for her. The one she loved, loved her back; and

  she was the princess, an ocean of knowledge meant to push the mortal world

  forward.

  //

  The light flickered. It blinked again, and for a few times before everything turned

  black. Pitch black. A murmur spread in the air, people looked up like dogs staring

  at the moon,

  A spark of light cheered through the darkness, about a feet above their heads, and

  waves of white light spread in al directions. And when it diminished, everything

  turned black again.

  Nothing happened for some time, and then the spark appeared again. Only this

  time, there were no waves of current. Its arms flickered in air like a snake’s tail,

  and it shrunk and expanded at a rhythm, as if it had a heart.

  Breaking the silence in the godown, a thundering sound shook the wal s and

  ground of the place, and everyone scattered al around, fal ing over each other

  uncontrol ably. Their behaviors could always be predicted, just like of the common

  folks. And they never disappointed.

  The blue stone appeared out of nowhere and simultaneously the yel ow stone, both facing each other on the either sides of the spark and dazzled their respective lights, like cars preparing for a race, or love birds setting the mood for romance.

  As the spark, the ultimate source of pure energy sent waves of current that hit the stones, the stones glimmered, like the man burning in the pleasure of his lover’s beauty. The gems jerked, and started rotating in opposite directions, maintaining their own axes. It look no less than an atom, the spark as nucleus and two electrons, of blue and yel ow taking rounds around it. The speed drastical y increased, and only a tail of blue and yel ow light could be perceived.

  The two gems were behaving like lovers circling around each other, ready to become one and lose themselves, or oneself, into the ocean of passion and possibilities, of pain and pleasure, of creation or reckoning. The stones crossed each other occasional y, missing the spot every time. Then, the blue stone broke through his axis of rotation and rocketed toward its mate. The blue stone’s head penetrated the shel of yel ow stone and fit inside it, as they were made for each other. The yel ow stone released waves of current as the blue injected itself, and the half shel of yel ow gem grew to wrap the blue gem in itself. The blue was covered by yel ow, and an internal conflict made the new combination run wild al around the place, like a crazy bal gone crazy, burning the spot they touch, along with a hole. It hit a few men and they turned to ashes within seconds. Wherever the stone bumped to, a wave of white current fol owed it, in anatempt of chaee.

  But it failed to get a catch on it.

  The stone was evolving. And so was Raman, and Vyana, in the presence of pure

  energy.

  When the stone came to a halt, grabbed by the spark’s tails, it had turned to a

  perfect cube, it's color yel ow, along with green beams of light emerging out of the

  cube’s six faces, emerging from the centre.

  The spark hit the cube again, with its dazzling white light, and the glow from sides

  enhanced. The cube transformed again, this time in the shape of a sphere, and the

  six beams of green lights adjoined together to form a rod passing through the

  sphere’s centre. The bal glowed, and so the green handle which seemed to be

  made of light.

  And this finished the process of forging the stone into a device, a sceptre.

  Bend you must. And be grateful for the presence of the spark.

  The spark diminished, and the sceptre, green and yel ow, its glow intensifying and

  dul ing with the beat of heart.

  ‘ROCHA…. ’ Stretto came flying from behind Raman, and hushed toward the

  stone. He looked at it for a moment, and let himself pass through it. As the stone

  touched his smokey figure, his loose, smoke# like body transformed into a rigid

  black mass, with fixed edges, unlike before when fog flowed out of his body,

  making it appear spread. Now he had a shape, of a dwarf ghost with no legs, just a

  clock to cover his body, if it thee was. His eyes had turned red.

  ‘ROCHA….’ he pul ed out his voice, hoping his vocabulary had improved. It hadn't,

  alas.

  ‘What does that mean, ROCHA that he says?’ Asked Raman, having heard this

  word a zil ion times in past two days, the days of rain and miracles.

  Wake up. World needs no magicians and alchemists, but people who are alive. Woke up,

  you have. Now you must choose.

  ‘Choose what?’

  Your destiny, Mr Marvel ous….

  ‘But I do not understand….why me? Why a thief with his legs in tramp, his

  relationship fucked up and….’

  A good heart. A heart- never g ives up. A heart- knows courage- k nows fear. C

  hooses c ourage.

  A brave heart you have. And thirst. Thirst to know.

  ‘But that stil doesn’t explains why me?’

  Fate, it must have been. You were destined to find the notebook, and destined you are, to

  restore peace in the nine realms.

  ‘But who decides?’

  The reply came after a short pause. The hwē ol of Trinity.

  A lot to know, you have. If ready you are, take the step.

  Raman moved a step closer to the gem, and looked at it with his ful attention. The

  //stone explanation in a line - pinterest //. The only problem was, he had no idea

  what to do next.

  Let it become your crown.

  ‘Can’t you just simply say- do this, or that? Why you sound so riddled up al the

  time?’

  Lift the stone, touch it not.

  For a mortal, this could have been a difficult task. Not impossible, though. A wise

  mortal would have avoided having to lift the stone, anyways. Raman made use of

  his telekinesis ability and the stone rol ed up as he projected the energy from his

  hands upwards. He tilted the stone, and then pul ed it toward himself. The stone

  was now a feet away from him, its glow mesmerising and infinite. As he tried to

  gaze inside the shel , Raman got a glimpse of the 9 realms, the wheel of trinity, the

  lifeforms, black holes, broken hearts, courageous men and women set out on

  adventures, and it never seemed to stop.

  ‘What are we waiting for? Why can’t I just take it now?’

  Do not dare touch it. Burn you wil .

  ‘So i should just….wait?’

  Yes. You must. Let them choose.

  ‘But you owned them before they were lost. .didn’t you?’

  I was wrong. Never can they owned; only discovered.

  //make some story. Remove the curse part. Add the prophecy of the stone.

  The godown shone in white as the stone radiated the glow. The goons had

  disappeared, some to claim their earnings, some to claim their lost psyche. Blood

  on Qadri’s exploded hand had frozen, and he hadn't shown any vital signs since he

  kissed the ground. The flow of yel ow current in his veins had faded away too. But

  as the stone distributed light, as an act of dancing in joy, the ray
s that touched

  Qadri ignited the glow in him again.

  A flame ignited under his damaged forearm, and it could be seen from above, as if

  the light could penetrate through his flesh. The flame sent waves of yel ow across

  his arm, wrist and his flowered hand began to reform itself. Palm and fingers

  appeared, the frozen blood and hanging skin vanished, and the hand was

  complete. It was made of a yel ow matter, fluid and glimmering. Qadri wasn't

  destined to die an easy death.

  Raman and the stone continued flattering each other with their presence. He was

  twirling it, swaying it like a pendulum and even made it rotate in a circle with him

  as the centre. Each time the stone moved, it released beams of laser like light that

  formed a pattern, like an arc or a circle.

  But the stone didn't approve of him.

  The pig had opened his eyes, which had turned black with yel ow pupil, and

  speculated the situation. He was ready to pound upon his prize, and after he

  witnessed his reformed hand and swayed his fingers, the longing for the power

  had brought him to a point where there was no waiting, at any cost. As the stone

  reached near him while circling, he jumped up and got hold of the stone with his

  mystic hand.

  Raman’s hold over it was uncomparable to the power in Qadri’s hand. A storm of

  terror rushed through his body as the stone went out of his hold.

  ‘My reward. .a ha-la la-la-la,’ Qadri made an attempt to sound melodious. Like

  Raman, he too went through the tough process of awakening oneself. He had

  died, and when he opened his eyes again, they were being opened for the first

  time, ever. Al the unessential thoughts had gone, leaving behind the things he

  wanted to see, the truly important ones.

  ‘Do. Not….’ Raman yel ed, as the big glanced the stone al around, holding in his

  alien material hand that was radiating bright orange light wherever the stone

  touched it.

  ‘Stop playing tricks, Mr Raman. I can see terror on your face and lie on your