Deathsworn: Siddhi Chronicles Book 1

by H. K Oby

  Those same twinkles of light appeared above the five empty chairs and five people instantly blinked into existence, each strangely reacting in a different manner after they fell into the chairs. The one beside the Keeper had a large potbelly that barely held his traditional dhoti in place, stretched to such proportions that it seemed close to ripping in half. He had his mouth open as if ready to take a bite of something, and when he looked around and understood where he was, he snapped his jaw shut and chewed unhappily, clearly disgruntled from leaving behind his food.

  He seems surprised. Did that one in the middle make them all come here? That must be it!

  The one beside him was familiar; it was the long-bearded man who had been called the first elder, the one who had dropped Amin off in that cell and spoken those kind words which had not been received well. Only a flash of unease passed his face after he appeared; then, he smiled at Amin as if to say everything would be okay, but it didn’t have any effect.

  The other table was filled with men in suits exactly like those worn by the three at his failed initiation before. The one who had led the group then was here, too. His face was exulted as if experiencing a hit of his favorite drug. The two beside him were twins. One had black hair and the other had dyed his hair white, probably to set himself apart. Both had blocky features and long noses that must definitely send women running, and both of them stared down those noses at Amin haughtily, instantly making him dislike them.

  It was an odd arrangement, with the one in the center sitting on the ground and the others raised above him, but no one said a word about this, so Amin stayed quiet. The one on the grass gestured to the chair, and as soon as Amin took a seat, he said, “Let’s begin. We have a few questions that must be answered before we can proceed. You are called Amin, yes? What is your last name?”

  The man’s voice was melodious, his words containing a rhythm that was pleasant to the ears. Amin felt himself being lulled into a sense of false security; shaking himself, he set his jaw firmly, understanding exactly what this was: a hearing.

  His sentence would be passed here, his future decided by these people who knew nothing about him. Quickly, he surveyed his own situation; it didn’t look great, but he did understand one thing: it might be in his best interest to try and win over at least some of them, as at least one was definitely in the camp that wanted to send him right back to that car.

  He still wished that he could scream that he had no hand in what had happened, but shoving that voice aside, he smiled and said, “Just Amin. My mother never did tell me what my real last name was. She had a different answer every time, so I’m convinced she didn’t know, either.”

  Raising his eyebrows, the one who had asked the question said, “Well, that’s something we’ve definitely not seen before. Just Amin, then. In that case, no last names or honorifics in this meeting! Call me Narad.”

  Blasphemous looks appeared upon the rest instantly, as if the man had shouted a curse that would put even Amin to shame. They controlled them quickly, the first elder being the quickest, and even though it puzzled Amin, he nodded and said. “It is good to meet you, sir. For the record, I wish to say that I did nothing before. I –“.

  Raising his hand, Narad stopped him. “We know. What has happened puzzles us, too. Ayodhya is in turmoil, at the moment. Let us get through this quickly so that we can put the minds and hearts of everyone at ease. I must warn you: I will know if you lie. What did you do for a living?”

  Amin gulped. This was the one question he had hoped he would not be asked.

  Taking a deep breath, he made a gamble.

  “I... was in the business of redistributing wealth?”

  The leader of the modern group snorted, and the Keeper just laughed out loud. Narad’s smile did not slip, but he did furrow his eyebrows ever so slightly and say, “Straight and accurate answers, please. It is a courtesy that I am asking this instead of using other means. This was simply the fastest way.”

  Suddenly recalling what had just happened when he had gazed into those eyes for the first time, Amin shuddered, convinced that he did not want to find out what those ‘other means’ were. Gulping again, he hung his head, accepting the fact that he had no other option.

  “I scam people for a living. Recently…”

  He told them everything, from his recent scams which were all religious to older ones which had been crude but, more often than not, successful. He went all the way to his childhood, to his earliest memory of stealing, to that time when he had faced a choice between another day of starving or taking a chance and snatching an apple from a vendor when he wasn’t looking. When he was done, he felt so parched that he massaged his throat, looking around for something he could drink.

  He had kept his eyes studiously away from those listening, knowing that he might stop halfway or try to lie his way out of the situation if he saw how they were taking it. He looked up now, only to find Narad in front of him, holding a clay mug that he handed to Amin before turning around and disappearing with a twinkle of light again, reappearing on that bed of grass and resuming his position from before.

  Amin intended to take a sip, but he found himself drinking deep, his eyes widening ever so slightly with each mouthful as he savored the drink that tasted better than anything he had ever had. He had glanced at it before raising it to his mouth; it had looked only like water in which tulasi leaves— one of the auspicious plant types worshipped by Hindus, said to contain magical healing powers— were floating around. It was a standard drink in many parts of India given to visitors to temples or orthodox houses, but the taste was something else entirely.

  If all the best drinks in the world had been combined and placed in a single glass, this would be what it would have tasted like.

  By the time he set the mug down, his lips were downturned, mind and body craving for more. The drink had not only sated his parched throat; it had even rejuvenated him, causing him to sit up straight with a clear mind, feeling his thoughts move as fast as if he was filled with adrenaline.

  As soon as he laid eyes on Narad again, the man spoke.

  “Thank you for the honest answer. We must discuss, now. You may relax.”

  He raised one hand and an opaque screen appeared between the stone tables and Amin. It was white, and only big enough to cover them, like a plastic sheet that had suddenly been hammered into the earth in front of him. It also blocked out all sound. t leAast, that was what he thought so initially, until a few minutes into the closed hearing when a familiar voice burst out from behind it before disappearing again.

  “… that must be why they wanted to kill him…”

  He had already spent all the time until then fretting about what might happen, agonizing over how he could have answered differently, and the shout only made things worse. He got up from the chair— he hadn’t been told that he should remain seated— and started pacing around, sometimes longingly looking beyond the screen but finding nowhere he could go where he would be hidden from the eyes of those behind the screen. It was a large clearing, after all, and unless he somehow mastered the art of flying like those butterflies, there was simply nothing he could do.

  Mercifully, the wait didn’t take too long. The screen disappeared just when he had picked up that mug off the ground in the vain hope of finding a few droplets he had missed, so he found himself in the uncomfortable position of explaining why he was sticking his tongue down the clay lustily. Flushing, he placed the mug back down and rested his hands on his lap, his foot tapping incessantly on the ground while he resisted the urge to bite his nails.

  Narad spoke, his melodious tone doing nothing to soothe the terror Amin felt.

  “It is time to vote. By law, the vote must happen in full view of the one being judged. The charges are thus: would-be initiate Deathsworn Amin has caused a reaction from the gods that has not been seen since the creation of this place. No conclusive reason has been found to justify such a reaction. Those of even worse sin have been initiated into the D
eathsworn before, so all arguments made by the Keeper are moot. However, it is true that when dealing with the gods, in such a matter where we are at a crucial junction, it is better to err on safety’s side. As such, a proposal has been put forward to erase Amin’s memory and put him back where he was before the Pulse singled him out. All in favor?”

  Amin stared in disbelief as hands rose. The man with the huge belly and, of course, the Keeper both raised their hands, and both the leader of the modern faction and the black-haired twin followed suit. Amin counted them 10 times, vainly hoping that he was wrong.

  There was a majority against him.

  With a sigh, Narad opened his mouth, clearly about to deliver the judgment that would send him back to death.

  No! Fuck you all!

  Suddenly, all of his emotions came to a head, all the frustration from being fed scraps of information, all the rage of seeing decisions he had had to take when given no other choice coming back to bite him now, crushing him as surely as the world had crushed all his dreams, crushed all his hopes until he had fought back. He had always been someone who loved having complete control of his life. The exact opposite had been going on ever since that stupid flash of light, and he wasn’t going to stand for it anymore. Jumping to his feet, he let himself go entirely, not even entertaining a single thought about how the influential individuals in front of him might take his words.

  “Judge me. Sure, judge me for what I did, like how the world outside has for all these years. Judge me for who I was forced to become. Judge me for having no role in shaping my life, for having no say in shaping my circumstances. Judge me for choosing the most profitable scam, not believing that god can exist in such a cruel world, a world with no proof of a higher being except the policeman and the court. Judge me, but you’re wrong! I only turned to a life of crime out of necessity. I only ever targeted rich have-it-all’s who cheated their hard-working employees out of well-earned wages to buy a second sports car, or beat their maids just for smelling bad. I only ever targeted well-to-do arrogant ladies who hit their children for doing things a child should be able to do. I stole from assholes like that jeweler who rapes his maids and goes to the temple the next day, feeding a hundred homeless people and believing that he has atoned for his sin. They all did what they wanted, not caring how they were making others suffer, so I made them suffer. More accurately, I made them feel a bit of displeasure as I never could steal enough to make it truly hurt.

  “How are all of you any different from them? You sit there and you decided that I must die without giving me a chance to defend myself, a chance to prove myself. You want to kill me because you think the gods may be pissed off by what I did. If that’s true, then how are they even gods? If they know everything, how can they not know that behind all of my sins, there is a reason that must be considered, especially if justice is to be delivered. You say they might be angry with me, so I ask you for a chance to prove them wrong. You want me to fight? You want me to learn? I’ll learn faster than anyone else. I’ll fight harder than all the others, definitely harder than all those who had easy lives, not having to scrounge for every morsel and struggle just to find shelter or warmth. Give me a chance, and I will be the best Deathsworn in history. By god, I know I deserve it. The world has given me nothing until now, and I never asked for anything as I believed I could rely on myself to take what I wanted. I have no choice but to ask now, and if it’s necessary, I’ll even beg. Let me live, and I’ll prove you and the gods wrong. Let me live, and you won’t regret it!”

  He heaved when he was done, taking a few steps back as he had walked forward somewhere in the middle of his speech, pointing at each and every one of the seven judges to drive his point home. He sat back down and folded his arms, still huffing and puffing, but his eyes were steady and his back was straight while he waited to see whether he had at least been the least bit successful.

  Surprisingly, Narad didn’t answer. The only change that had occurred in him during Amin’s speech was that his smile had broadened, but it was back to normal now. He raised his hand and the screen reappeared, but this time, Amin stayed put, telling himself that it must at least be a good sign that the judgment hadn’t passed yet.

  His heart wouldn’t slow down even after he regained his breath. He had known that what he said might make things worse, but he had found it hard to convince himself that there could be things worse than death. It felt good to speak his mind and take control, but he wished that something more came out of it.

  He had meant the part about begging. He believed that self-respect was useless in places where death could be avoided if it didn’t exist. His motto had always been that if you lived to fight another day, anything you had to do could be reconciled with or salvaged, and soon, he found himself wondering whether he should have begged, too, before closing his mouth.

  The opaque screen disappeared just when he was moderating between two sides of him, one that said he should have pushed himself even further and cursed all of the judges and the other that said he should have controlled himself more and sucked up. The faces of the seven gave nothing away; only the muscular guy looked disgruntled as opposed to the satisfaction he had shown when the vote had been called before, so Amin found himself suddenly hoping for the best.

  “The charges are the same as before. Raise your hands if Amin is to be returned to death.”

  One, two…and no more.

  Seriously? Wow! I’m curious as to how, but still...Wow!!

  Only the two on the modern side had their hands raised. They looked just as shocked as Amin felt when they saw that the two on the traditional side were keeping put, even though it looked as if the Keeper was experiencing a spot of constipation. The potbellied man simply looked as if he was longing for the feast he had been taken away from, but the first elder was smiling openly, even nodding when Amin’s gaze met his.

  Standing up, Narad spoke again.

  “The vote is conclusive. Amin’s initiation is complete, but he shall have no siddhi because nobody was willing to accept him. No rules shall be changed for him; he will be just like the rest and he shall be trained like the rest. He must find his own way. He asked for a chance, and it has been given. Anand, you will take him to the Deathsworn quarters and give him everything an initiate needs.”

  Narad smiled at Amin and disappeared along with five of the six.

  Blinking to get rid of the after-image of the twinkle that remained in his eyes, Amin looked to his left and right and saw that, surprisingly, the leader of the modern group was the one who had been selected to take him to his quarters.

  Wait…it’s over!

  Surreal joy suddenly filled his mind, making him grin and stand, throwing his hands up in the air and shouting loudly, “Haha, I’m not dying! Yes! I’m gonna fly!”

  Anand looked at him strangely then got up, adjusting his narrow tie and smoothening down his long jacket. Raising one hand, he flicked his fingers and that dense substance covered Amin again.

  He fought to stay upright happily, reveling in every breath he was taking in, applauding himself on having earned it, himself, without relying on anybody else. True, there was a lot more earning to do, but at the moment, he was gloriously alive and as far away from that rickety car as possible.

  They flew in a different direction, but forests definitely dominated the island as they passed one after the other in succession. The patches between the woods were empty more often than not. Only once, he saw what looked like a village with at least a hundred inhabitants, complete with men tending the farms and women carrying earthen pots of water from a well.

  It was so weird to witness such a primitive way of life while remembering how the two modern folks had come from a place with monorails and skyscrapers, but at the moment, he didn’t feel like asking questions and being rebuffed. After so much excitement, he honestly wished that he could just take a break and call it a night as the sun was setting on the horizon, but he had no idea whether such a thing would be possib
le.

  Soon, they began to descend in a clearing where round huts with thatched roofs were neatly arranged, at least two hundred of them arrayed around intersecting mud roads that were all empty. He landed in front of one at the very edge, where one of the roads ended at the beginning of another forest.

  Without a word, Anand flew away, leaving Amin waiting with the slight urge to set that stupid jacket on fire. The door was locked by a half-rusted metal lock. Afraid that he might get lost if he wandered off, he leaned on the door and waited, and after a few minutes, Anand came back.

  Thrusting a package into Amin’s hands, he looked at him once more with that strange expression from before, when Amin had celebrated his escape from death. Unable to control himself anymore, Amin asked the forefront question on his mind.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  He blinked as Anand gave the answer in a wry tone and flew away.

  “Welcome to the rank of the initiates. I just pity you because, honestly, death would have been a mercy compared to what you’re going to go through without a single siddhi. Still, good luck. I’ll bring flowers to your funeral.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  AMIN STAYED WHERE he was, standing in front of the hut, staring into nothingness even five minutes after the sharply dressed naysayer left, the words he had heard resounding in his head, causing echoes that made him stutter and struggle to convince himself that the guy must be lying.

  When he finally recovered, he frowned, doubting for the first time whether he had taken the right decision. Still, remembering that the alternative would be floating in nothingness, right now, with no semblance of life in his body, he shrugged, put the matter aside, and walked to the door.