Kingdom Of Clay Book 1

By Anasua Ghosh

Kingdom Of Clay – Book 1 Kingdom Of Clay Bool 1 follows the story of Vaishnav and Iravan, as they become enemies for life. Vaishnav has everything to live for. He has a powerful father, who loves him, a cheerful mother, who adores him, and a promising career ahead of him. Everyone knows that in future Vaishnav will succeed his father and become the commander of Anant, the kingdom of Gold. Crown prince Iravan has nothing to live for. He has a powerful father, who hates him, a dead mother, whose love he has never experienced, and a bleak life ahead of him. Everyone knows that in future, Iravan will make the worst king Anant has ever seen. These two young boys’ paths cross in the most tragic way. Vaishnav loses everything he has, his parents, his home, and his life. They snatch it all from him and leaves him to die. Iravan finds himself trapped inside his royal castle with a new stepmother and a possibility of getting killed. Will they survive the blows of fate or will it kill them both? Will a savior rise to save one of them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ukiyoto
• Release date: Aug 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005611118

Book preview

Book 1

Kingdom of Clay

A Villain Is Born

Anasua Ghosh

Ukiyoto Publishing

All global publishing rights are held by

Ukiyoto Publishing

Published in 2021

Content Copyright © Anasua Ghosh

ISBN 9789354901188

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated, without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published.

Dedication

To my mother who never stopped believing in me. To my sister who stood by me through the ups and downs, like a pillar. To my teacher who kept offering precious knowledge, knowing that I have nothing to give in return.

Special thanks to Probir K. Bhattacharyya, for reading and editing the rough draft and offering continuous support.

Now…

Her scream echoed around the silent forest, breaking everything solid and tranquil. Like a thin glass, his trance shattered. Vaishnav became aware of his surroundings. A cool breeze brushed against his sweat-drenched flesh. But it could not tame down the heat that had spiraled up from the base of his naval. The dead body beneath him screamed again. Then her naked body moved. It sent up a sensation of fright in Vaishnav’s heart. But he was not allowed to adhere to fright. To gain power, to become the best tantric, he needed to banish fear and anything remotely human still left inside his soul.

With a hard push, Vaishnav chased the rising fear and continued to chant. The mantra rolled out of his mouth like arrows shot in anger. He must succeed. His enemies must perish. The dead woman screamed again. This time trees moved along the sound. The breeze that had been caressing him lovingly a moment ago, hissed in anger.

Vaishnav gritted his teeth. He had heard his Guru talking about this casually. The old man had said that the dark Daakini realm would rise the moment a tantric got closer to his Siddhi, that it would attempt to stop him from gaining success. But Vaishnav must not move from his seat. His chanting must continue no matter what. Forcing himself to focus ahead, Vaishnav chanted his Guru mantra, a bit slower this time.

In tantra, nothing should be hurried, he knew that. It had been 15 years already. He had spent a long time preparing himself for this. Now, the time had finally come and he could not allow himself to lose. Vaishnav disregarded the undead beneath him and sat straight on his lotus pose. Even if the young woman came alive, she would have to yield to his sadhana. Her cries broke his heart, shattered his human self, but he could not let go. His Guru Diksha, his initiation to tantra, would fail if he left his seat. His entire life, and all the lies he had been telling the old man would become meaningless.

A night bird screeched somewhere in the distant sky. The thick cluster of trees between which Vaishnav sat worshipping bent as if assaulted by some invisible force. Leaves ruffled against each other, creating a lullaby so magnificent that it empowered Vaishnav’s chanting. He felt powerful all of a sudden. Something inside his soul shifted. The darkness that had kept him covered, thinned and he felt lighter. Even through the closed lids of his eyes, he could see a glow of light now. Divine light, he breathed. Yet, he could not open his eyes just then.

Around him, everything had thawed. His senses could not detect anything now. Cries of night birds, rustle of leaves, breaking of tree branches, everything had stopped. Even the wind did not hiss anymore. Beneath him, the corpse had gone limp. All the anger, and pain, left her body at that moment. Vaishnav sat frozen, savoring the sensation. Then he opened his eyes in the slowest possible motion. His breath caught inside his throat as he beheld the female form hovering in the air. Before him was his Goddess. The Mother he had worshipped for 15 years. She had finally appeared. He had succeeded. Tears slipped off his eyes, washing his dirt-stricken cheeks. With devotion he did not know he possessed, Vaishnav linked his trembling palms together. His mouth opened but the sound did not come out. With all his strength, he drew a shaky breath to calm his heart.

‘Mother,’ he whispered. ‘Mother, you came. Thank you.’

The night paled as an enormous full moon floated up in the sky. It appeared out of nowhere, without any prior warning. Immediately, a silvery mist shrouded the tiny island and its inhabitants. In the moonlight, everything appeared to be mystic. An island, slumbering on a soft silver carpet, unaware of the world and its malice. Had he been a poet, he would have written a poem on the unearthly beauty of this moment. But he was not a poet. Poetry had died inside his heart a long time ago. Now, only a thick, wall like mass of darkness lived where his soul had once been.

They said that time heals wounds, that time lulled pain. Some even said that time dulled down the desire for revenge. But they all lied. Time heals nothing. Neither time lulled pain. It had been years since he had last seen his parents, heard their voices, or embraced them tightly in his arms. Yet, the pain of losing them, of watching them succumbing to death still remained. The wound inside his heart bled even today. And the desire for revenge grew with each passing moment.

A drop of blood splattered from his index finger as Vaishnav poked open a vein with a small but sharp knife. Every day he allowed his blood to fall on the muddy ground. With calmness, he sat and watched the thick crimson liquid drying on the soil. Thirst, the earth’s thirst for blood had not died. He kept the lust alive by letting himself bleed. She should be yearning for more now. When he cuts open his enemies, she should shower her blessing upon him. For a moment, the sky lost its color. Or maybe it was his eyes which played tricks on him. In a flash, he saw his life, the one he had left behind, the one that had been snatched away. With dismay, he realized that he had not forgotten anything. He remembered each moment with the same clarity he remembered his name.

Even today, 15 years after the slaughter of his family, Vaishnav could still hear their screams. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw their lifeless bodies lying on the ground. He smelt the strong, coppery odor of blood, hanging in the air, his parents’ blood. Even today, so many years later, he still woke up from sleep, shivering and crying. His past came to visit him every night. First his parents. Then his enemies. They all came to stand a little distance away and look at him with wide eyes.

Before the slaughter of his family, he had little idea about death. He did not know what it felt like to stand by and watch someone close die. Even though he had witnessed neighbors losing their relatives, death had always been something that had happened to the other people, a guest who visited the other houses. He had always been protected from the harsh reality. Foolishly he allowed himself to be deceived. He thought that death would never enter his home.

Life had shattered his childish pride. One night he understood that death could go anywhere. He realized that when everything fell apart, only death won the battle. Death and the Devil.

They had given him death. He would give them death in return. The time to balance the score had arrived. But before that, he leaned back to look at the sky and willed himself to remember for the last time, just to rekindle the hatred that burned inside his heart.

Vaishnav – The Golden Boy

The sun floated high in the sky. Its golden ray hung over the towers of Anant’s royal palace, washing each one of them with golden light. Everything smelt of autumn. Flowers bloomed everywhere. Rusty orange of the fallen leaves added to the glory of Anant’s golden street. The Kingdom Of Gold. Everyone’s pride. The glory everyone wanted to live. Anant, the largest kingdom of earth, stood with pride and vigor.

‘Samarth, Samarth, Samarth.’ The cheer started slowly. Then it rose over the roar of Ocean Maivav. Earth trembled slightly as people thudded their feet on the ground. Then they began to sing together. Vaishnav had heard this song before. But he did not know the lyrics. So, he could not sing along. An ancient poet had written this song in the honor of King Rudrasen. Now, people sang the same song for commander Samarth. His father, Vaishnav thought with pride.

They had their eyes fixed on the ocean. Vaishnav looked around to see hundreds of faces, dazed with anticipation. They shouted his father’s name, they sang for their hero who had single handedly led Anant’s army to its victory. Messengers brought updates of war progress every week. So, everyone knew that Samarth had slaughtered a few hundred warriors to secure Anant’s glory all by himself. Now, they waited for the hero to come home.

Vaishnav held his mother’s hand in a tight grip. He craned his neck high to look at her beautiful face. Her pinkish cheeks reflected a bright reddish hue this morning. Looking at her made Vaishnav smile. ‘They are shouting for father,’ he whispered. His chest swelled with pride. The son of the army commander. The future of the Kingdom. The pride of his family. Vaishnav was everything others wanted to be. The golden boy every mother wanted.

Sunny and bright, Vaishnav won hearts wherever he went. They called him The Sun. Some even said that he had come from the energy of The Sun God. With affection some called him Suryansh. His bright gold tinged appearance supported their theory. He liked the name Suryansh better than Vaishnav. Since the days of early childhood, when he began to understand the world that surrounded him, he worshipped The Sun God. Even though his kingdom did not have the custom of Sun worshipping, Vaishnav continued his spiritual practice in secrecy.

Each morning he would run up to the terrace to see the sunrise. He derived power and energy looking at the rising run.

Vaishnav’s mother, despite everything, was careful to remind him of his real origin. ‘You are Vaishnav,’ she told her son. ‘Forever you will remain so.’

Would he? Vaishnav asked himself every day. Something did not allow him to accept Lord Vishnu as his lord. How could he remain a Vaishnav all his life when he could not bring himself to worship the lord of the galaxy? He stole a quick glance at his mother. If she came to know about his thoughts, she would make him perform intense penance and he would do anything to avoid that. So, he kept his head high and watched Maivav’s restless waves.

Her eyes were fixed ahead now, staring at the light lapping of the ocean waves. Ocean Maivav, the sacred ocean protected Anant from enemies for thousands of years. Anant worshipped this ocean as a part of Lord Vishnu. The lore said Maivav had been Lord Vishnu’s blessing. The Lord had promised Anant’s greatest ruler, King Rudrasen, that Maivav would stand guard to Kingdom Anant. For one thousand years that blessing had proved itself to be true. Anant’s army always returned home victorious. Every year, Anant arranged two festivals to honor Ocean Maivav.

An hour passed waiting by the shore, yet nothing came to view. Everyone watched the ocean with utter eagerness. They wanted to welcome their commander. But time began to lull the enthusiasm. With the sun floating high up in the sky, the heat began to rise. Silence crept up as perspiration formed on the bare fleshes of the onlookers. Murmur of doubt chirped in the air. They questioned the authenticity of the news of the troop’s return. Some turned to look back, undecided whether to wait here or go back to their daily work. Then, when the crowd began to thin, a golden wink at the far end of the ocean came to view. With slow progression, a golden ship emerged out in full view and the crowd erupted in joy. The cheer gained life once again. Everyone started to chant commander Samarth’s name as if it was a sacred mantra. They cheered for the hero who brought home the greatest glory. They had won half the world. The other half…well that would come soon too. Everyone felt the vibe of victory in their hearts. Now, they looked forward to enjoying the power of being the most fearful kingdom of the world. The Kingdom Of Gold, Vaishnav could feel the pride of being a citizen of Anant. His Anant. His land. His kingdom. When the time appeared, he would protect Anant with his own life. He would make sure that the golden glory of his kingdom remained uncontaminated forever.

Someday, Vaishnav promised himself looking at the expanse of the ocean. Someday, he too would come back like this. People of Anant would cheer his name then. They would fight to catch a glimpse of his face. He climbed on a platform gilded with pure gold to take a better view of the nearing ship. He could see a mass of golden hue on the ocean bosom. One thousand warships, bearing almost ten thousand warriors, slowly made their ways towards the shore. Shiny golden poles dazzled with pride under the midday sun. People allowed Chandrika to go forward, an honor to the hero’s wife. Vaishnav jumped down to follow his mother. He wanted to be the first one to meet his father. It had been six months, he reminded himself with astonishment, since he had last seen his father. Time passed quickly, he realized. Soon, it would be his turn to make this voyage. He would come back to his waiting wife, victorious and proud. Commander Vaishnav, he said in his mind, tasted the word, allowed it to roll over his tongue for a while. Warmth spread across his chest like a soft blanket. He would make it come true. The promise made him smile to himself. Of course, it would come true. Who would stand in his way? There was no one to snatch his place from him. He was Vaishnav, the son of the most powerful man of Anant. No one could take his place, or so he thought that day.

Six months had been a short time for a war to come to its conclusion. Thousand years ago, King Rudrasen had fought a war that lasted for ten years. The war had reduced King Rudrasen’s army to almost non-existent. Everyone died in that war. Only the King survived by some magical power. The legend said Rudrasen returned home victorious from that war all alone. No one knew how he won the war that engulfed his entire army and left him with nothing but a wooden plank. It happened one thousand years ago. Yet, the lore and the legend of King Rudrasen remained. Women wanted a man like him and men wanted to be like him. King Rudrasen was the enigma no one wanted to unravel. Even today, Anant’s army sought Rudrasen’s blessing before going to war. The king had been the greatest devotee of Lord Vishnu and some said that the Lord Himself saved Rudrasen in that war. No one knew for sure. But the legend lived like all legends did.

Vaishnav had his doubts. Until the time someone proved that Lord Vishnu truly came down to stand by His devotees, Vaishnav would not believe in the lore. He wondered whether he would ever know the truth. He was not a devotee after all. Therefore, he should not expect any miracle to solidify his faith in Vishnu.

Cheers turned into shouts as the first ship came close enough for the people to see a tall man in a golden cloak standing on the deck. In his right hand he held his famous sword, Padmanav. The sword had been forged from the hardest and most expensive steel. It could cut fleshes and bones like the way a sharp knife cut through pudding. Only commander Samarth could control this magical sword. It did not obey anyone else. Vaishnav hoped someday he would be the one to fight with Padmanav, his father’s greatest pride. He hoped to control the sword like the way his father did. The wooden hilt of the sword looked menacing even from a distance. As if the sword wanted homage for the victory it had brought to the kingdom. Samarth worshipped the sword like it was the God Himself. He worshipped no one else. Neither he bowed before anyone. Chandrika had tried to make her husband visit the kingdom temple. But despite several attempts, she had failed in doing so. Samarth simply refused to set foot in the shrine and never allowed anyone to pursue him.

‘My sword is my God, my Lord and my glory,’ he had said many times. Vaishnav gazed at the sword with admiring eyes. The sharpness of the steel and the sleek craftsmanship of the hilt made him spend many sleepless nights envisioning himself with the sword.

Finally, which seemed like an eternity to eleven-year-old Vaishnav, the ship leading the kingdom army came to anchor on the dock. People moved forward to help the warriors trying to anchor the ship.

Vaishnav’s mother Chandrika looked expectantly at the ship’s deck. Samarth stood there, looking down at her. His golden cloak fluttered as the ocean breeze played with the delicate satin. In his eyes Vaishnav could see a mixture of love and yearning. They had been apart for a long time, he reminded himself. He had heard his mother pacing the length of her bedchamber when everyone went to sleep. She hid her pain well behind her smile. But her eyes told the tale of her longing. Even with her beautiful smile, Chandrika could not hide the dark shadow that veiled her face.

When the ship finally stopped moving, Samarth hopped down from the deck. He landed in knee length water with ease, his tall, lean frame remained steady even in the waves. Vaishnav heard a sharp intake of breath somewhere in the background. It sounded feminine. He did not look over his shoulder in search of the lady who sighed at the sight of his father. All his attention was fixed on the commander of Anant army. Even though the man was his father, Vaishnav made it a point to study him like a role model. Someday he would succeed this man and lead the army of the kingdom to its glory.

Samarth came to stand in front of Chandrika. For a moment he noticed nothing. His eyes scanned her face with eagerness. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist. She buried her face into his shoulder. The crowd cheered at the sight of the affection. Some brushed tears from the corner of the eyes. Vaishnav decided to love his wife the way his father loved his mother, with everything he had. It should be with everything, otherwise there was no point in loving someone, his father had once said to him. Vaishnav vowed to remember it till death claimed him. He also vowed to marry only when he found the woman who would make him want to love her with everything he had.

The passionate embrace broke finally. Samarth turned to look at Vaishnav. A smile played on the commander’s face. ‘You look like your mother.’ He scanned Vaishnav’s face. ‘You are more golden than fair.’ With his right hand Samarth ruffled Vaishnav’s golden brown hair.

‘He looks like my elder brother, Darish,’ said Chandrika. A tinge of sadness appeared on her face. Vaishnav knew that Darish had gone missing years ago. Chandrika was a mere child back then. No one knew what happened to her elder brother. He was seen near the ocean for the last time. People who witnessed the disappearance said that one moment Darish was there and then the next moment he vanished in the air. After that no one had seen him. Some said Darish had died. Some said he was hiding somewhere on some island performing Tantric rituals. They said at the right time Darish would return. But no one could say why the Tantric would return.

Samarth placed his hand on his wife’s shoulder. ‘Wherever he is right now, he is happy, I am sure.’

Chandrika’s eyes moistened at the mention of her brother. ‘I loved him. Had it not been for father, he would have been here today.’ But that was not the complete truth. Vaishnav had heard that the royal family had chased his uncle away from the kingdom because of his Tantric power. The royal family was not appreciative of Tantra practice outside their family.

The conversation came to a halt as the largest ship came near the port, bearing King Aditya and his two younger brothers, both were kings of two famous and powerful kingdoms.

King Aditya was the eldest of them all. He had the face of an eagle. His eyes rested on Samarth as he came to stand on the deck. His cloak flew behind him like a golden wing. On his broad chest was painted the Anant symbol – The Falcon Of Glory.

At either of his sides stood his two younger brothers, both tall and formidable. Looking at them made Vaishnav shiver with fright. His eyes traced the youngest brother, Nilav, the King of Shesha. The Kingdom, for some reason, represented blue. From Nilav’s armor to his cloak everything was tinted with the color of rain-washed sky. On his chest was an image of two blue serpents entangled with each other. The open hooded faces of the snakes looked menacing. Nilav raised his right hand. On the wrist he had a small blue snake wrapped like a bracelet.

His steel blue eyes were fixed on Samarth as well. Vaishnav felt a jab of fear inside his heart. Nilav’s eyes reminded Vaishnav of snake’s eyes, cold and poisonous. With that poison he watched the commander of Anant’s army.

A sudden rise of fear held Vaishnav captive for no reason at all. Even though he could not understand what made him shrink inwardly, he did not want Nilav’s steel blue eyes on him. He wanted to disappear before King Aditya’s youngest brother looked at him. But his wish did not come true. Nilav turned his gaze from the father to the son. His eyes narrowed as he scanned Vaishnav’s face. Every time Nilav’s gaze fell on Vaishnav, those eyes narrowed and the king of Shesha studied him like a potential prey. It made Vaishnav frightened. But he could not talk to anyone about his fear. No one would believe him.

For moments which felt like eternity, Vaishnav and Nilav stared at each other. Then Nilav’s blue eyes flashed like two blazing torches. The sudden spark made Vaishnav gasp. He took a step backward as if pushed by some invisible power. The action pleased Nilav. He curled his lips upward in a smile. That moment Vaishnav expected the king of Shesha to stick his tongue out like a snake. But the moment passed and King Aditya moved to take over the scene before the tension rose further. No one looked at the king when he came to the edge of the deck. He had to clear his voice to get their attention. Aditya had a massive voice Vaishnav knew that. Yet today no one wanted to hear the King’s voice today. They all wanted to hear the war story from their hero, from Samarth.

Vaishnav was happy to see his father gaining praise and respect. He did not understand why his mother kept throwing worried glances at the king and his brothers. Finally, Nilav descended from the ship. His slender body moved with the grace of a serpent. Some said that Nilav had been made from the poison of cobra. That the queen had drunk a pitcher full of poison when she was carrying Nilav and from that poison her youngest son had been formed. Some took the matter a little further and said that a male snake had taken the form of a beautiful male to seduce the lovely queen, the mating had created Nilav, a half human and half snake. Yet, the tales, even though fascinating, did not have any evidence to justify themselves. Thus, no one took them seriously.

‘Samarth had fought with courage,’ said Nilav. He moved closer to the commander. They stood head to head looking at each other. People who had gathered around the commander shrank as Nilav came close. Everyone moved away in haste. Unfazed by the fright, people showed Nilav kept his predatory smile in place. ‘No one could have done it better than him. He made us powerful today.’ Nilav’s deep voice rose over the murmur of the crowd. It even dominated the roar of Maivav. ‘We are going to celebrate the victory tonight. So, join us at the king’s palace in the honor of commander Samarth.’ He looked around in search of someone. Then he found his object of interest - Vaishnav. ‘Bring your son along. I think it’s time he gets introduced to the prince. After all, he will assist Iravan at war campaigns someday.’

Vaishnav looked at his father, startled. Prince Iravan had been an enigma to the kingdom’s people. The prince seldom came out of the palace and when he did, he made sure no one saw him. Iravan kept to himself and talked to no one. According to Anant’s Royal law, the crown prince could only step out of the palace after a pre crowning ceremony. Iravan’s crowning ceremony had not been declared yet. No one had seen the prince. No one knew what the future king of Anant looked like.

The queen had died in childbirth. She was King Aditya’s darling wife. After her death the king had locked himself inside a room and did not come out for a long time. In his absence his two brothers Nilav and Mohit had taken care of the kingdom. Now that the king had recovered, the brothers were planning to get him married for the second time. Anant needed heirs, lest something happened to prince Iravan.

Vaishnav narrowed his eyes and looked up to take a good look at the king. Sun rays fell directly on his eyes, making him blink for a moment to adjust his sight. The features of the king looked enormous to him. White hair strands had already outnumbered the gray ones. Even the beard of the king looked whitish. Deep angry lines had encircled his eyes. Grimness and anxiety had marked his face cruelly. The king looked ancient, almost thousand years old. With slow, tired pace Aditya came down from the ship. Mohit moved beside his elder brother, assisting, guarding. They came to join Nilav, who had his serpent-like smile fixed at Samarth.

King Aditya placed his hand on the commander’s shoulder. ‘You really did well.’ His voice boomed with pride. ‘Today, you have proved that I was not wrong in naming you the commander of the army.’

Nilav grinned at the compliment. His blue eyes darkened each time his mouth turned upward. ‘Yeah, we all are proud.’ He agreed with his brother. ‘We are proud to know that the man we have picked up from dust and promoted to the post of the commander did not fail us.’

All of a sudden, a death like silence settled around them. People stood stunned, almost rooted to their spot. They looked at Samarth and then dared a glance at Nilav. What they expected Vaishnav did not know. Maybe they expected their hero to give a fitting answer to Nilav’s jab.

Samarth too looked ready to retort when Chandrika’s hand found her husband’s large ones. She clutched it tight, a fusion of a warning, and a silent request to keep cool. Even if he wanted to stand for his right, Samarth would not deny his wife any wish. So, he lowered his gaze towards the ground and bowed before Nilav. Vaishnav could see his father’s fingers tightening around the wooden hilt of Padmanav. Through the tight clutch of the commander’s fingers the gold forged hilt sparkled.

Finally, when the tension seemed to have reached its highest peak, Mohit moved forward. He towered everyone in the proximity, even Samarth and Nilav who were taller than most of the men around. Mohit placed his hand on Nilav’s shoulder. His gray eyes stared into the steel blue ones of his younger brother’s. Mohit’s beauty had enchanted the kingdom a long time ago.