The treasures of SANUALI

Szytra and the Five Sorcerer

A drizzling Saturday morning greeted the five sorcerers. It spread a white-knuckle freshness in the air that had never been felt before. The woody fragrance of flowers and petrichor brought smiles to the eyes of visitors who were stretching and shrugging off dust particles from their robes as a gust of monsoon breeze kissed their faces making them shudder. 

A sloppy muddy passage lay stretched in front of them wounding around the mountain like a spectacular python. It rose and fell, tracing intermingled curves around valleys and hilly slopes down Sanuali Mountain to Anugavalli. The footpath crossed a swampy green jungle enveloping tall sturdy trees on either side parallelly to a brook that ended near the main bazaar and after crossing a couple of wooden cottages vanished closer to the igloo-structured premises of Bodh. 

The young sorcerers were some seven miles apart from the main city. Their pale complexion radiated brightly as faded sun-rays feasted upon their faces. For a brief moment, they stayed glued to the ground panting and gasping for breath. Neither speaking nor blinking, their eyes raked over the greyish-blue and white sky before they blinked.  

 Nemhata, the tallest among all—some six feet seven with the most outstanding of features was the first one to recover. He stood up and eyed his companion lying still on the ground. His haversack was deposed near Svāhā’s legs. He picked it up and secured it to his sides before he inched closer to the summit. A mesmerizing sight that covered half of the Swastika danced in his vision. It peeked from the fog as it used the mountain mist to cover its beauty like a veil. 

Nemhata huffed a long breath that he didn’t know he was holding. The beauty had stolen his heart away, leaving him dumbstruck. His heart danced at a rhythm and he felt as if he had fallen in love at first sight. 

Staring down the hill, he raked over every inch of Anugavalli—the residential premises stood in alignment. Some were tall while others were dwarf, nonetheless, it looked perfect. There were roads, streams, beaches, and bridges that twinkled like infinite stars. 

Always chirping and crowded Anugavalli was asleep excepting some mundane appearances of milkmen, newspaper distributors and delivery boys who whistled their way around the city and minded their business. The grass on hills—a yellowish-green, tinged with brown had started turning green and appeared fresh. Heavy rainfall of the previous day had breathed new life and hope of survival in even the dullest of the things. Anticipatory, it had to be deep green, dark and emerald bright within a few days.   

‘It’s mesmerizing, man! Isn’t it?’ exclaimed Ayat. His voice came muffled and teeth clattered. Nemhata stood still and realized he could not overt his gaze. His companion who was dressed like him, except his belt, had a large Impeyan Monal designed in it and was a few inches shorter whereas his had an extravagant Altai Snowcock in middle and was broader, followed his gaze. He stood awestruck too. It indeed felt serene.  

Ayat had a lean athletic body, a natural golden complexion, fine features, and grey eyes. He was quick, witty, outspoken, and perspicacious that crowned him with a competitive advantage in the worst of situations. 

‘Far off, man! Far off! I have never seen something as astounding as this in my whole life. Our Sanuali is beautiful, no doubt. But this,’ Nemhata pointed towards the sleeping Anugavalli. ‘Is heaven. No wonder the great Sanuali made his home here and Desis lost everything to conquer it. It is worth fighting for.’ 

Ayat nodded his agreement, however was rendered speechless. He wished he was allowed to capture the beauty. Alas, the Ministry had put restrictions upon almost everything!

Their trance was broken by a gagging sound from somewhere behind. 

‘Hey! Hey! Don’t take cursed names at such divine moments. It’s a bad omen.’ Svāhā jumped to his feet and helped Kushiro before he advanced towards the summit. Hefy and Kushiro tailed after. ‘And don’t you remember Peril’s instruction? Just don’t get carried away.’ Svāhā mimicked, huffing out smoke owing to the chilly wind. His eyes twinkled in delight when he looked upon the vast city. 

‘He was not talking about the city but the females residing in it. Dear lord, if the city is this captivating, I wonder, how their women might be.’ Kushiro gushed, a goofy grin complimented his plain features. He had said it as a matter of fact but was defeated in earning a retort. Kushiro was the friendliest among all. He was short and fatty with no bulging muscles or radiating intellect, however, there was a peculiarity that had made him stand out among all—the charming ability to please anyone. He was one of the most popular faces of Aprameya and was rumoured to befriend ninety-nine per cent of the population.  

  ’Boys, how are we gonna get their?’ Nemhata asked once settled. Dark clouds hovered over them, sprinkling everything to live. They enjoyed the droplets as touches of feather despite each of them shivered in need of warmth.

 ’We must become unrecognizable. Peril had told me to find Vasishta. She would guide us further and is responsible for accommodation. She lives downtown Anugavalli.’ Hefy added without shifting his glance from the scroll. He laid the scroll opened on the ground and hovered his palms above it. A blinking three-dimensional picture sprung into life.

A woman in her early forties greeted them with a slight bow. Her palms were joined together as a polite smile twinkled its way to her emerald green eyes. 

‘Welcome to a civilization of unmagical beings, boys. I hope, every one of you have had a safe landing with every bone in its respective position. I am Vasishta, Secretary Dean of Aprameya University and your guide for the research program. I hope, you are aware of the details.’ Her soft voice rang in the air. 

The young sorcerers reciprocated the politeness with greetings and bows before they nodded their main concern of the moment. 

‘How do we reach you? We, still, are sitting near Dvāram and the city seem far away. We can’t fly our way, right?’ Svāhā asked, gesturing towards the cursed tree with a tilt of his head while the boys leaned closer. 

‘No! We are not allowed to do anything that could distinguish us from everyone. The cloud stunt is still talk of the town. It’s all over the news. A reports claimed spotting an unidentified object in the sky. They are trying to trace its origin. I can’t believe Peril could be so careless and desperate.’ Vasishta wailed slackening. 

‘Anyways, we ought to stay like non-magicians among the kinds. Shrug out of your robs into plain trousers and t-shirt. You must have practised the survival spells. Right?’ The boys nodded much to her relief. ‘Perfect! Keep your amulets hidden and your haversack zipped. Walk your way down the mountain and don’t use any magic no matter how compelled you may feel. You may take up rides, if someone is willing to help. However, practise utmost caution. Remember, you shall never reveal anything about our beings. Intentionally or unintentionally does not matter.’  

And so, it was concluded. It took them barely ten seconds to change their attire. Hands stuffed down their pockets, they strolled their way down the hills as rain flecked their faces. 

Their minds were far away, however, their body cherished every bit of the atmosphere. Svāhā was the happiest. His mind jumped upon various thoughts with a speed of light. He could not believe his fate—the things he had read in books, discussed in classes were glistening in his eyes. He was going to interact with people. Who knows he might get to see the Swastika Amulet? He could have been excited about bumping into his soulmate too unless it was but legal. 

‘Who do you think he was?’ Svāhā broke the ice as they swirled down a dangerous curve. 

‘Who do we think who was?’ Nemhata asked, jumping down a heavy rock. He stumbled over a few feet but did not lose balance. The drizzle had paced into heavy sprinkles, prickling their skins.

‘The one who’d messed it all up? That i*********e-man? I have never heard of so odd a story. Peril did not discuss details. There is something fishy, I’m telling ya.’

‘Neither did I, man. But if, Peril says so…he must have some reasons.’ Ayat supported the argument. His eyes darted sideways on a squirrel jumping up and down the rhododendron. He smiled fondly and abruptly put a hand inside his haversack to produced three nuts out of it magically. He, then, offered the meal to the squirrel that came running after him. 

‘My mother had told me about it a while ago.’ Commented Kushiro, spitting everywhere. He felt an awful taste in his saliva and could not tolerate it. His nose scrunched up in disgust, however, he kept walking. 

‘What did she tell you?’ Jumped Svāhā as he swung an arm around Kushiro’s shoulder catching him off guard. They were gliding down a slippery hill and soon the frightening jungle was to give them away to an open field. 

‘Mummy told me that he was a genius and had written theories that revolutionized our civilization. He was an orphan whose parents had been killed by Desis and was studying in Aprameya on scholarship. It might have been a hundred years back…no, hundred and fifty…oh, no. No…it was hundred when a fatal disease overtook our prosperity.’ Kushiro started scratching his beard. 

His eyes seemed distant, pondering down the memory lane. ‘In such disastrous time, the university approached him for medicinal spells. He was requested to create a potion for that very incurable disease. He started leading, however, half-way through the research; he requested for teleportation. Mummy was a working assistant in the President’s office back then. She said that the potion was almost complete. A single ingredient was needed. Apparently, it could not be found on our side of the earth. The Ministry had no other option but to grant him access. He was assented by president and went off but to never return.’ Kushiro fumbled. 

The boys listened to him in complete silence as they drew their conclusions. There were queries, objections that weren’t questioned. They waited for Kushiro to continue. However, when even after a prolonged pause he did not speak; they had had to ask something to keep the story going. 

‘Did he…umm…did he not bring the ingredient?’ Ayat asked.

‘Oh, no. He was not a traitor. He did publish the ingredient and sent multiple sample to the Ministry before he disappeared. Mummy said that Peril and the Ministry tried to stop him. For months he was to be traced but he purposely unattached himself from the Sanuali.’ Kushiro clarified raising his eyebrows. He patted his right shoulder where the squirrel sat munching on a nut, headless of anything of prominence being discussed. Its matter of interest was still clutched loosely in Kushiro’s palm.

‘But…what has any of it to do with s*x? Why did the Ministry prohibit i*********e?’

‘Because, he left us for a woman.’

‘Oh, you mean-’

‘Yes, he fell in love with a woman. Nobody knows who she was, but she must be definitely something. Some say they eloped somewhere whereas Mummy thinks, they lived in disguise and still live somewhere in Swastika. The genius could not have left everything just like that. I think, she is right. Swastika is huge. It has various towns and cities. He could still be living somewhere…may be in one of the four circular villages.’

‘So, is he not dead as Peril stated?’ witted Nemhata, raising an eyebrow. 

‘He must not be. Our life span is much longer. A healthy witch can live five hundred years on an average and a sorcerer some four hundred and seventy-five. And think about it practically, man. A genius wouldn’t just die like that. He risked his safety, life, and career for that woman. Even if the Ministry abandoned him and all entrances were seized, you think he would do all of it without a plan? He must have disguised himself and went anonymous.’ 

‘But a year on this side amounts to twice on ours, Kushiro. Remember Mrs. Khan’s lecture on evolutionary difference? I remember her telling us that the great Sanuali died around hundred and forty years back according to our calculation, however, it’s just seventy years in here. He must have been dead by now and you think our Ministry can be fooled so easily? They might have done something. Besides, you believe it to be real? I have never read a word about all of it.’ Pointed Hefy, shaking his head. 

‘Because, it was confidential. Yeah! It was too confidential to be taken so slackening. It would have become an ill example and challenged the capabilities of our Ministry. They’d to cover themselves up so they spread rumours. They wanted to engrave fear in hearts just to make sure that no other genius in our world would ever repeat it.’ 

‘Yeah, but it still doesn’t explain the prohibition.’ Svāhā was desperate now. It was more intriguing than he had presumed it to be. He had not thought of it, but it was somewhere nearby. 

‘Well…The couple gave birth to a hybrid child. A baby girl.’ Kushiro shrugged nonchalantly. He expected the boys to decode the ending, however, they were far too ‘dumb’. 

‘And?’

‘And she is the reincarnation who will supposedly save our world from dark shadow of Desis.’ Kushiro exclaimed. His voice reached an octave as he spoke the words. 

‘The genius was the sole heir of Sanuali and Sugata, Szytra: the undefeatable, unconquerable. Svāhā, your amulet is named after him. They hate Szytra. Mummy has overheard Peril and Qualisi’s talks. You wouldn’t believe me…’ Kushiro’s voice trailed off as he wiggled his eyebrows and offered a second nut to the squirrel. The sorcerers’ desperateness filled his heart with satisfaction for he decided to keep them in suspense for as long as he could.

‘What? Gonna take the whole day? Tell us why do they hate him?’ Nemhata snapped. 

‘Yeah, man! It could have been an initiation of something good. A collaboration between both worlds.’ Svāhā interjected. His eyebrows were furrowed. 

‘Because of the heir.’ Kushiro smirked. 

‘The hybrid child?’ Asked Ayat. 

‘Yes, she is a coward or may be dumb and insipid. From past years, since first marks of Desis got visible: The Ministry had been trying to invoke her energies. A day before yesterday, Peril, himself, intruded through worlds to reveal it, but she did not respond. It is a shame that such soul belong to our courageous world. The Ministry believes it to be an outcome of Szytra’s foolishness that he mated with a weak woman.’ The statement was the last nail on the coffin. 

‘But it wasn’t Szytra’s fault.’ Svāhā wanted to yell but deciding again, he bites his lips and walked in silence. 

No one spoke after it. Svāhā regretted bringing up the topic. He cast a nervous glance around and found everyone zoned out. Every profanity to curse the reincarnation was used as he took a mental oath to never touch a woman from the world ever. 

Nemhata, Ayat and Hefy thought no different. The boys watched the green fields receding behind them as they stepped into the bazaar. Vasishta’s shrill voice came to them on the wind. It had stopped raining, but the boys were unaware of this; they were almost there, but the excitement of minutes ago had turned into a miserable thought. They stood in the side-track and stared around the empty place. 

Igloo premise—popularly known as ‘an ancient library’ greeted them along with a sleek convertible Mustang of Vasishta. 

Without any exchange of pleasantries, they hoped inside the machine. Their heart thumped in anticipation while dark clouds of disgust cleared off the sky.