Born Of Lesser Dogs

By Pia Vasio

Sixteen year old, Aryan Mehta lives an ordinary and monotonous life in the sleepy little town of Doon. Aryan is bored at school and has no friends, until he meets Alia, a mysterious girl with a yellow umbrella. Alia calls Aryan a BOLD and requests his help in completing a strange mission. Aryan is hesitant at first but a twisted turn of events prompts him to change his mind. What follows next is a larger-than-life adventure that comes with its share of excitement, danger and thrill. The Girl in White, ghost of the beautiful, long-dead Victoria Meyers, haunts the forests and lake next to the imposing Crystal Palace. Many children have disappeared over the years in Doon, including Aryan’s cousin Neil. Does the Crystal Palace have anything to do with these disappearances? Does the powerful Rajah Sahib, with his love for chess games, know what is happening? Join Aryan Mehta on this enchanting and fantastic journey and witness his life change beyond his wildest dreams!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Notion Press
• Release date: Jul 9, 2015
• ISBN: 9789352061174

Book preview

BORN OF LESSER DOGS

Pia Vasio

Notion Press

Old No. 38, New No. 6,

McNichols Road, Chetpet,

Chennai - 600 031

First Published by Notion Press 2015

Copyright © Pallavi Mahajan 2015

All Rights Reserved.

ISBN: 978-93-52061-17-4

This book has been published in good faith that the work of the author is original. All efforts have been taken to make the material error-free. However, the author and the publisher disclaim the responsibility.

No part of this book may be used, reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

I would like to dedicate this book to You.

Yes, you, dear reader, the one reading this page.

I welcome you to my world and I hope you will enjoy reading it as much I enjoyed creating it.

Preface

The view from Cloud’s End was beautiful, much more than the picture that Aryan had painted with his words, all throughout their journey uphill. The sun, glowing orange, painted the sky in multiple shades of blue, yellow and red. The waterfall, which was mostly a lazy stream that flowed silently, put on an exciting, gushing display this evening.

Aryan showed Alia the Crystal Palace, which shone beautifully against the flattering illumination lent by the setting sun. After a while, Aryan seated himself on his favourite rock but Alia continued to stand on the edge of the cliff, watching the disappearing sun and the sprawling valley below.

The sun bid adieu to the mountains and left behind a blue darkness. The sky began to get darker every minute and stars began to sprout up one by one. The moon, a feeble impersonation of his stronger and brighter day brother, peeked from one corner of the sky.

Alia, Aryan asked, sounding a little concerned, was the girl you saw in the Crystal Palace by any chance as tall as you?

I didn’t see her that close but she probably would have been, responded Alia, still staring at the dark sky, enchanted.

Did she also wear a small, pearly hair band on her head? Aryan said, his voice trembling.

Ummmm, Alia mumbled, trying to remember. Now that you mention it, I did see something gleaming on her head. Why do you ask?

I think I might be looking at her, Aryan squeaked, and Alia turned to look at where Aryan was pointing.

The girl stood a few feet below them, at the edge of the forest, next to a swaying pine tree, with her golden hair fluttering in the wind. Her face was towards the forest so Aryan could only see her golden hair and a glittering pearl hair band that sparkled on it.

Whhhooooooossshhh! A violent breeze sent the entire mountain shaking and Aryan screwed his eyes shut.

When he opened his eyes he saw that Alia was also shivering, her eyes closed. Aryan looked at the spot where the Girl in White was standing and his mouth fell open.

The girl! he gasped, rubbing his eyes. The Girl...in White has disappeared.

Alia stumbled forward and her posture stiffened as she grabbed Aryan’s arm. We have to find her, Aryan!

They ran to the spot where they had last spotted the Girl in White. They began to look around for her.

There she is! Alia screamed. The Girl in White was walking, almost gliding, deeper into the forest. Her white gown flowed in the cold mountain air, brushing against the trees. There was a shimmering white glow about her.

Come on, Aryan! Alia said, holding Aryan’s arm and pulling him towards the direction in which the Girl in White was going.

Wait, Alia! Aryan shouted. That ghost girl is walking towards a very dangerous section of the forest. It is getting darker and colder by the minute. Please, drop this crazy idea!

Alia held out her palm, whispered something and an orange fireball appeared again. Aryan! If she is indeed the creature that we are looking for then it’s important for us to follow her now!

Aryan opened his mouth to retort but just managed to let out a deep breath. Alia began to run towards the Girl in White and Aryan followed close at her heels. Alia stumbled upon a rock and fell down. Aryan stopped in his tracks and rushed back to help her.

Don’t wait for me Aryan, just follow her, Alia called out, waving her arms wildly, egging him to go on.

But you are hurt. I can’t leave you like this in the middle of a forest, he said anxiously, looking around for some source of help.

Don’t worry about me, just please follow her, she insisted, pushing Aryan away and handing over the fireball to him. We might not get another chance to find out her secret.

Reluctantly, he got up and began to follow the ghost girl again. Aryan could hear the owls shrieking and the crickets chirping. Something slithery brushed against his trousers and he jerked his leg back violently.

He was beginning to regret his decision with every small step he took. When he turned to look in the direction of the Girl in White, he saw that she had disappeared again.

A blood-curling scream rang through the forest. Aryan’s muscles tightened and he had to clutch the nearest tree to maintain his footing.

SPPPPLLLLAAAASSSHHHHH!

Aryan heard another sound. It was the sound of something being loudly dropped in water.

Water? Is there a lake or river nearby? Aryan thought as he made his way towards the direction that the sounds seemed to have come from. A faint silver glow was emanating from that direction. Aryan was too curious to leave now.

As he proceeded, the thick, black forest began to give way, the trees grew distanced from each other and their branches got thinner. The light of the moon now shone through the thinning trees to reveal what seemed like a small clearing ahead.

Aryan pushed aside a few branches that clouded his vision and found himself standing at the foot of an old and shaky wooden bridge that ran over a huge, silvery lake. Looming large over the shimmering lake and casting an eerie shadow on the forest beyond, was none other than the hauntingly beautiful Crystal Palace. Aryan stepped forward to a get a better look. The wooden bridge creaked beneath his feet.

He squinted in the dark horizon to search for the Girl in White. Aryan saw her right across the bridge in the shade of a larger-than-life Banyan tree, with its branches outlined faintly in the moonlight. She huddled on the floor, soaked to the skin, clutching her knees with her face buried in them. Aryan could hear her howling cries across the lake.

The girl continued to wail uncontrollably, as if she was in excruciating pain. Aryan climbed the bridge, clutching its rim for support and treading carefully to avoid making a noise. As the dipping temperature made the exposed hairs on his arms stand on end, Aryan felt under-clad in his blue and maroon school uniform. He tried to bring the fireball closer to his body but to his utter disappointment, it gave him only light and no heat.

Excuse me! he said, clenching his fireball hard, and in a small voice that didn’t really sound like him, are you alright?

The pitch of the girl’s cries decreased. When she did not look up and continued her crying, albeit at a slightly lower pitch, Aryan touched her on the sleeve of her white gown and took his hand back instantly. The girl was as cold as ice! Her arms were white, devoid of any colour, as if they were made of marble, and her fingers were long and bony.

The moon began to rise higher up in the sky and the girl’s howling reduced further. She was only sobbing now, and her body was shaking with the sobs.

Please talk to me, I might be able to help you, Aryan said softly, and kept his hand once again on her icy arm.

No one can help me now, a small, hoarse voice called out. Aryan stepped back a bit and realized it was the girl speaking.

What’s the matter? Aryan said kindly as he sat down on one knee in front of her. I have a friend and she knows how to do weird stuff that is almost like magic. She made this ball of fire just out of thin air. I will ask her to help you.

The Girl in White stopped shivering and raised her head slowly. Aryan’s thoughts became fuzzy, as he stood rooted on the spot, his eyes glued onto the face of the Girl in White.

If only one could call it a face! She had no eyes, no nose and no ears. She only had large, red lips that extended across the lower breadth of her face, with steely white fangs protruding from them. She licked her lips and contorted them into what could only be presumed to be a crooked, curvy smile.

Aryan fell back on the forest floor and began to clutch helplessly at the thin grass to get up. She uncrossed her legs and raised herself up, hovering a few inches above the ground. She glided towards him slowly with her hands outstretched and sharp, red claws erupted from the ends of her fingers.

The ghost girl stood over Aryan, casting a threatening shadow. She bent over, grabbed him by his neck and pulled him up, raising him above her shoulder. A frightening glint ran across her vastly empty marble face.

She cackled, making a horrid, high-pitched sound and slashed her black-forked tongue about her fangs. She licked her thick and luscious lips that seemed to be getting redder every moment.

Contents

Title

Copyright

Dedication

Preface

1. The Yellow Umbrella

2. The Worst Punishment

3. The Talking Family Portrait

4. Trick or Dare?

5. The Pearl Mountains

6. The Wandering Ghost of Victoria Meyers

7. Locks of Love

8. The Sorcerer of Doon

9. The Moonfang

10. The Underground Flea Market

11. The Vow of Silence

12. The Oath of Obedience

13. The Bleeding Moon

14. The Stonewall Attack

15. The Domed Room

16. The Ultimate Sacrifice

17. The Golden Badge

18. The City of Clouds

The Yellow Umbrella

Mother…I am scared, he whispered softly as he turned to look back at her. He was standing on the edge of a cliff with his knees wobbling at each brush of the cold mountain air. What if I fall down?

My sweet child, I know it is your first time, but you need to have faith in yourself. Step forward, embrace the wind and be ready to fly. Even though she was standing behind him, her words seemed distant.

He took a step forward and peered at the nothingness that lay in front of him. He turned to look at his mother. Looking into her eyes always made him feel strong. Just step forward, my child…just step forward, she said kindly.

He stretched his hands wide open and let himself fall into the valley. The last thing he saw before the clear blue sky engulfed his vision was his mother’s smiling brown eyes.

The blue sky turned black with thunderous clouds. He was falling down a deep, twisted hole that seemed to have no end, clutching desperately onto a long rod. A man’s cruel, cackling laughter echoed at the back of his head as he continued to fall amidst thunder and rain.

A small voice called out to him, asking him to be strong. The voice turned into the sound of ringing bells. The ringing began to grow louder and louder till Aryan Mehta woke up with a start.

Dreams, he muttered, rubbing his eyes. They never let me sleep.

He looked outside the window. The lazy autumn sun was slowly climbing over the mountain. The sky was still a dark grey, with faint orange patches. A small star caught his eye. It was shining much brighter than the rest. Aryan rubbed his eyes again. The star was approaching him and growing in size as it did. The star also emitted a rainbow as it continued to grow.

Aryan fell back in his bed. I am still dreaming, he said.

He slept for half an hour more and dreamed of the star turning into a bright yellow bus that emitted rainbow colours instead of smoke. When he finally woke up, he was a little late for school.

His textbooks were strewn all over his unkempt bed. He quickly stuffed them in his bag and began combing his hair with his hands. By the time he came down for breakfast his house was filled with the usual morning sounds of shouting, screeching and confusion. The young ones ran around, the old belched orders and the middle-aged slaved. It was a normal noisy morning in the Mehta mansion.

The Mehta family mansion housed a family of seventeen. Aryan jokingly referred to it as a town within a house. The Mehtas were loud, interfering and interdependent, just as one would expect of a normal suburban Indian household.

The house that stood on the end of a long, winding road was an eyesore in itself. It had once been a beautiful five-roomed bungalow but had now mutated into a three-storied monstrosity with rooms sprouting at each nook and corner.

Aryan, come here and have your milk. Just look how thin and frail you are becoming. At this rate you might disappear soon, Aryan’s mother called out to him as she saw him coming down the flight of stairs.

Aryan’s mother, Tara Mehta, was as sweet as the halwa she cooked and as melodramatic as any of the characters in the family television serials that she liked to watch.

I don’t feel hungry right now, Aryan lied and Mrs. Mehta sniffed it. She knew he was hungry but he did not like drinking milk. He tried to sneak a samosa but she slapped his hand.

This is for the evening, she snapped. She handed him the glass of milk. Why aren’t you hungry though? What have you eaten since morning? I don’t understand your attitude. Just look at Rahul, how tall and handsome he is. How does one get tall and handsome? By drinking milk, isn’t it?

Aryan rolled his eyes and took the glass. If there was one person who he didn’t like to be compared to, it was his cousin Rahul. Save me one, he said, gulping down the milk but still eyeing the samosas. I will be late coming home.

He knew that drinking the milk quietly was much less bothersome than listening to his mother’s rant about the benefits of drinking milk. Aryan never understood why his mother loved to talk about the lives and affairs of other people, especially Rahul, the cousin he particularly hated.

When he finished drinking his milk his mother gave him a wide-angled smile and gushed, That’s like my boy. I was beginning to get worried about your health. Just look at how thin you have become; really, you might disappear soon.

Aryan was barely listening to his mother now as she was repeating her usual morning rant. He picked up his backpack and threw it on his shoulder.

I love you, mother, he said, leaning over to kiss her softly. It is amazing how you can manage to be sweet and annoying at the same time.

She dismissed him with a small grunt. Have a good day at school.

And I would love to disappear just like Neil did! He said the last sentence really fast and ran out of his house, grinning.

As he closed the main gate behind him he could still hear his mother screaming. I am going to complain about this to your father, she threatened, and I am not saving a samosa for you as well!

When Aryan was out of earshot, Aryan’s mother peered around the kitchen to see whether anyone had heard what Aryan had said. It has been more than three months since Neil had disappeared and no one mentioned his name now. Even though her sister-in-law, Riya, Neil’s mother, put up a brave face, Tara had often caught her sobbing quietly in Neil’s room.

It was a little mean to take Neil’s name like that, Aryan thought to himself as he made his way to school, but he had wanted to make a point.

With heavy steps, Aryan walked towards the school, eyeing the mighty mountain peaks enviously. Mountains were always so strong and unchanging. They withstood so much but were always the same: strong and unchanging. He didn’t like standing in front of a mighty mountain. It made him appear so weak and small, a feeling he didn’t like at all.

A splash of vibrant yellow caught his eye. He could see the small circle of yellow bobbing up and down in the green woods in front of him. He began to walk towards it but it suddenly disappeared. Dismissing it as a play of morning light, Aryan continued to scramble towards his school.

The moment he reached his school building, Aryan let out a huge groan. His school, Stonehall High Senior Secondary Public School, was his least favourite place in the world. He hated almost everything about this place, living and non-living. The hatred was so great that it took all his energy to simply enter the school gates every day.

It was redundant to say that he had no friends here. Most students were either afraid of him or considered him too weird. To his teachers he was a rebel, someone who asked questions that were either too rude or too ridiculous and sometimes both. The silver lining in the cloud was that whenever they wanted to punish him, they mostly sent him to the library. If there was one room in the entire building that he liked to be in, it was the library.

He loved the books and the possibilities they contained. Stories about lands far away and glorious heroes, about beautiful maidens and powerful sorcerers. If only he could spend his entire day reading, he would have liked nothing better than that. For those brief moments he could forget his dull present and be a part of exciting adventures.

With each page he turned he lived a part of his dream and weaved thousands more – he swam in the oceans, slayed beasts, rescued damsels and lived the life of a hero. A life he believed he was destined for. He could never pinpoint the exact basis for this belief but he dreamed about it day and night.

By the time Aryan entered his classroom it was almost full. Like every classroom in the world, Aryan’s classroom also had specially marked zones.

The front two rows were occupied by the dutiful and bespectacled ‘geeks’ who were loved by teachers and students alike. Teachers loved them because they were the only ones who made them feel like celebrities – chasing them for the questions that would be asked in the tests, asking them if their papers were graded or gifting them flowers on Teacher’s Day. The students liked them for different reasons. The middle benchers liked them because they lent them their notes and assignments and the bullies liked them because they were the best and most voiceless punching bags.

The middle rows belonged to the ‘herds’. Aryan called them the herds because they always hung around in groups of fours and fives. It seemed like they had no identity outside the herd. Whatever they did, they did together – eating, assignments, cat-calling and even leave of absence from school. The herd had no leader and no individuals. It was careful not to cross the rowdies. It envied the couples in the left section of the classroom, and sweet-talked the geeks so that they could copy their assignment or notes – as a herd, of course.

The left section of the classroom belonged to the couples. Joined at the hip, the lovers were even more inseparable than the herd.

The backbenches belonged to the ‘rowdies’ or the bullies. They had an opinion on everyone and a punch for anyone who annoyed them. They were mean, loud and stupid. The rowdies had a leader, the alpha of the pack. He was the meanest, the loudest and the stupidest of them all. Meanness was their strength. They were divided by stupidity and united by strength.

Aryan always liked to sit in the right corner of the classroom. He did not belong to any of these groups and liked to stay alone. The rowdies would have picked on him but since he was tall and muscular, no one dared to lay a finger on him. The geeks envied him as he always managed to get more marks than them without ass-licking the teachers. The herds deemed him an outsider, too dangerous for their way of living. Every girl in the couples secretly fancied him and every boy was aware of it.

So all of them tried to simply ignore him, treat him as if he was invisible, as his mere presence made all of them uncomfortable, for different reasons. He was the nerd that was always reading – an outcast, an outsider, someone simply unworthy of attention or care.

His chemistry teacher, Mr. Chakraborty, was droning on about something to do with catalysts. Aryan was busy reading the third part of Stacey McConnell – ‘Misadventures of a Teenage Fairy’.

The Stacey McConnell series was the latest bestseller to rock the supernatural teenage market segment. In the first book of the series, things had gone awry for Stacey McConnell on her thirteenth birthday when she received a magic wand from her grandmother. It was strange because Stacy lived in an orphanage and had never known she had a family. The series chronicled her day-to-day life as she learnt to cope with her powers and the responsibility they brought.

In the third book, which Aryan was currently reading, Stacey, now fifteen, could be tracked by Venatobones – an evil society that attacked fairies. It was responsible for their extinction and the reason why they lived in secrecy. The Venatobones had killed Stacey’s parents and that was why Stacey has been forced to live as an orphan, away from her family. Aryan was lost in reading.

‘The Venatobones had cornered the orphanage. They had given me two hours to surrender or they would attack the entire orphanage and everyone who protected me. I could either choose to save myself, or my loyal friends who were standing up for me. I knew what I had to do and that was…’

Smack!

Mr. Chakraborty smacked Aryan’s head with a ruler. He snatched the book from Aryan’s hand and threw it