The treasures of SANUALI

Desis, the Demon King

The ashes of Sanuali after cremation was buried in the graveyard along with items of necessities including the deceased precious belongings, and such that buried the most equipped chariots of the century: the Vidyut. Platted with one of the finest platinum of the time, it was carved out of a maple chunk into running machinery that had been decorated with precious stones, mostly—diamonds and sapphires, and buried along with him was the greatest sword for immortals— the Kshustra.

In the cloud of unsupportable theories, the trials began, whatever the cause of the death may be, Daeva was, nonetheless, released and returned to the safety of her chambers on the back of Dharma-Prasth. Police could neither find any precious commodity from her lodgings nor could support the arrest in the court. Yet she remained a murderer in the eyes of people who had taken an oath to make her life worse to the extent, she would decide to abandon the castle and leave the Anugavalli. 

‘The court believes in evidences and not the truth. Whatever the judgement might be, for me, she is a murderer! If she has any last bit of shame left, she would abandon the Anugavalli and live in the same forest her husband had gone to.’ Said the merchant, but to his and everyone’s dismay, Daeva stayed put in the Dharma-Prasth, looking after the property and the cursed tree standing on the left, around three miles away from the castle. 

She was outcasted from society and spent most of her time in the castle, cleaning, washing, cooking, and mowing the lawn for its subsequent owners that never appeared. 

No one seemed interested in buying the property after Arunah, an estate broker who seemed as fond of the property as the residents of the Anugavalli were of Daeva nonetheless, was keeping it as an ‘asset’ and why would he mind the despaired dwellings and falling sheds as long as it was earning him a figure every year? 

It took an industrial revolution for the village to grow into an urban Anugavalli and lost with the time—the old methodology and myths. The chariots were replaced by cars and letters with emails. Within a blink of an eye, the stories were forgotten and the old monuments became a picnic place.

Arunah had converted the dwellings into a tourist spot. Often than seldom, people visiting the Anugavalli would stop by to admire the splendid structure of the castle and rich architecture. The engravings on the wall, employing pillars, beams and lintels were a matter of great adoration while the Vainateya guarding the upfront seemed awe-worthy. 

Arunah continued paying Daeva for her services. She had turned seventy-five the previous week, very sapped, very wrinkled, and very old, she could barely walk, however, could be seen watering the plants, cleaning the plinth of the cursed tree—for increased with her age, the obsession to keep the castle in the position it used to be. She still mowed the lawn, checked the fence, and took care of the castle, yet her feeble bones felt helpless in keeping the castle intact. The spreading spider webs, crawling weeds and shabby cottages had started to mock her, and the owner had felt that. 

‘The castle needs cleaning for the film crew that’s going to record some shots for an upcoming horror movie. I will send the sanitary staff by the evening to re-do the chambers. Hand them the keys!’ Ahura had told her before leaving the castle and that was why, she did not feel uneasy when a strange noise had echoed in the Dharma-Prasth, three-quarters past midnight. 

Groaning and grumping, Daeva had crawled her way inside the castle and to the source of noise that felt to be echoing in the upper chamber. She felt dread swarming deep in her heart. The upper chamber had been locked for decades by Arunah when his manager had told him that it spread a severe feeling in the heart of visitors.  

‘They might have chosen the chamber for the shooting.’ Daeva had thought before she had limped her way to the staircase. Keys still clutched tightly in her feeble palms, she had crossed halfway through the upper lobby when a masculine voice perked her ears. 

‘You said it was here! Where is it? I have searched through the pile for three times. You understand three times. It is nowhere. Are you playing a game with me, Mukhauta?’ The voice roared with venom, spitting anger with each syllable. 

‘My lord, I have sources to believe.’ Pleaded the other voice, masculine but a lot gentle than the previous one. ‘They told me he had it left here. I am sure Sanuali had not had the time to hide the scribbles before he killed him. It must be here somewhere.’ 

‘Search! Search every corner, every inch as you can. I want it, now!’ Hissed the venomous voice and Daeva heard more shuffling, more hissing, and more pleading. She wanted to peak at the intruders while maintaining a safe distance from them. 

The dread of somebody killing the Sanuali had started shaking her. ‘Were they the assassin?’ she thought. 

At the moment, she wanted nothing more but to pounce on the culprit and shake them until they speak the truth, however, she knew that those men—two or three, were dangerous. If they could kill a majestic man like Sanuali and escape unharmed then they could do worse to her. Apart from her wanted to twirl around and leave the chamber and the castle, yet she stood rooted to hear further. 

‘Oh, I am drained out already.’ Panted the first voice and Daeva heard a scratching noise followed by a soft ‘poof’. ‘I need to regain my energy, Mukhauta. The human kind is sucking all of the energy out of me. I cannot keep going like this. I am as good as dead.’ There was a tinge of tiredness in it, unlike the previous time when she had heard the man roaring. 

‘Have patience, your majesty, my heart says we will find it. Sugata had inscribed the direction. We have taken the risk to penetrate into human civilization. Everything shall fall into place. I have read it myself. It must be here somewhere.’ 

‘Your heart is as useless as you are. I cannot wait, Mukhauta. The lunar eclipse is just eleven months away. I need to align the stones before the last avatar gets reincarnated and takes over the sorcerer throne. Did you find the woman we have been searching for the sacrifice?’ The voice asked and Daeva could feel her heart dropping in her stomach. 

They were planning to kill someone, a woman and somebody was expected to be reincarnated for some throne. What were those people? Spirit? Druids? Wizards? Do they possess supernatural power? Did they belong to some other world? Which scribbles were they talking about? 

‘I thought I found one but it was not she. I had to take her soul.’ Mukhauta said, almost instantly making terror pounded through Daeva like waves of in a storm, building higher and higher.  

‘Ah, as expected!’ Sounded the other voice, disappointed. ‘Who could this reincarnation be? Do you have any idea?’ It asked as it had started muttering some mantras. 

‘I don’t have any precise idea, but the signs create an empress. It must be a woman. A lady!’ Mukhauta replied nervously and everything went silent for a moment. 

‘A lady! Well, it is going to be fun I suppose. Anyways, we have got another woman to deal with.’ The cold venomous voice spoke, chuckling.  

Daeva stood frozen to the door, still gripping the keys lightly, still aware of the presence of two dangerous men in the castle—who talk of killing. She was aware that she had to decide—she would have to sneak back to the corridor and then to her cottage from where she could call police and Sanuali’s assassin would be arrested, but before she could so much take a step forward, the hymns started to vibrate the surface. Within moments, she could feel the walls shaking as a swap of leaves from all the maples around the lawn started to swam in her direction. She ducked her head in the meantime to avoid getting washed away, but it was too late. Her petite frame could not grasp the handle tighter and fly along with maple leaves, she had landed in the centre of the chamber. 

Head throbbing and heart-pounding, Daeva crawled into a sitting position and looked around to find a man, bend by the waist, staring curiously at her. His hairs were tied in a messy bun, tangled into ropes while his wrinkled dwarf body could hardly stand up. 

‘Who do we have here, Mukhauta?’ A voice roared and Daeva looked everywhere in search of the source of it. She looked to her left and then to her right, but could not catch any glimpse of another human. A nasty creature that barely appeared like a bat, a purple one, glared at her. 

‘A guest, my lord!’ smirked Mukhauta. 

‘Ahan! How much have you heard?’ The voice asked and looking up closer, Daeva realised that the bat had been the one talking. She gasped, covering her mouth. Her eyes turned wide as a soccer ball and the goosebumps rose on the skin. 

‘Bats don’t talk!’ She shivered, looking terrified and ready to pass out. 

‘And yet I do! Now, how much have you heard?’ The bat asked again, shifting on Mukhauta’s shoulders. 

‘Enough to get you punished.’ Daeva could not understand why was she speaking and from where do the words come from. She, however, was determined to punish the Sanuali’s culprit. 

‘Tsk! Here go another one…rise and burn.’ The bat commanded, voice laced with power and dominance and before Daeva could blink, the maple leaves had covered her legs and waist before it struck with lightning and fire, bracing her the same fate as that of her master.

Far away from the metropolitan Anugavalli, in a small town, a girl of the age of nineteen—Swamy, an ordinary student of creative writing, woke up sweating, panting, and cursing in her aunt’s lodgings. She had got up at the same time again after watching the same dream.