The Banished Secret

By Niranjan

The worst things in Aditya's life are having to deal with the too ebullient friends of his younger brother, Abhi and to make polite chit chat to total strangers. Then someone fires an arrow at him, he starts having strange nightmares and a mysterious stranger appears in his life claiming to be his brother.

 

Before he knows it, Aditya finds himself caught in a battle that had been waging for centuries. As memories of past lives come flooding back, Aditya realises that the lines between friend and foe are very thin. Unsure of who to trust, and unable to trust even the evidence of his own senses, Aditya has to find a way to save not just his life, but his very soul.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Geetha Krishnan
• Release date: Sep 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201553777

Niranjan

An author and editor, Niranjan’s biggest ambition is to have a character named Garth in every book they write. Niranjan writes books rooted in mythical worlds, and their stories are often a combination of magic and futuristic technology. When they are not writing or editing, Niranjan can be found cooking or just lying on their couch watching or rewatching C Dramas and writing fanfiction.

Book preview

BHASKARA STOOD BEFORE THE KING, head held high. He was uncomfortably aware of the plainness of his attire—an angavastra, an upavastra and an uttariya with no embroidery or other embellishments—which was almost sticking to his torso from sweat, all made of cotton. He was equally conscious of the weight of the longbow slung on his shoulder, and the quiver of arrows on his back. His sword in its plain scabbard seemed such a contrast to the ornamental hilts he could see protruding from the embellished scabbards of the soldiers, and the dagger strapped to his leg might well be a toy, though its presence next to his skin soothed him. No one knew he had it, and it spoke to the confidence of the soldiers who had neither searched him nor divested him of his weapons before letting him in to see the King.

He relaxed his stance, but not his vigilance. Eyes on him made him uncomfortable. He also held his gaze steady though his insides were quaking in nervousness as well as anticipation. He was glad he had taken the time to make himself as presentable as he could. Despite his education and skills, he was a nameless nobody, and there was nothing that would make him look part of this glittering court. Yet, he had wanted to serve the King, and here he was.

A part of him thought ruefully that if he had known that he would be taken before the King himself when he came seeking a job in the army, he would have perhaps tied his hair back. The ends of it tickled the back of his neck and he was conscious of the sweat trickling down his back. The captain who had led him here gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

I come seeking my destiny, he said, glad his voice was firm. I wish to offer my services to you, O King.

King Mahakarma smiled at him. There was something nigglingly familiar about the man on the throne, but Bhaskara could not place it. Perhaps the King had visited the forest abode of the sages who raised him? He couldn’t remember, so even if that was it, that might have happened when he was a child. The King was tall, broad shouldered, and his eyes were very warm. He was dressed not much differently, except his clothes were all silk, golden embroidery threading through the colourful upavastra and uttariya, and gold ornaments adorned his body– an armlet, a broad golden neckpiece that covered part of his chest and the crown that looked simpler than in Bhaskara’s imagination.

We admire your bravery, the King said, an amused smile on his face. But you must prove your skills before you can join our army. Before all that, tell us your name, and the names of your parents.

My name is Bhaskara, he replied, his heart racing fit to burst. I’m an orphan and have been brought up by the great Sage, Astika, who taught me the lore of the ancients as well as warfare and weaponry.

We have heard of the great sage, Astika, the King said softly. Though we have never had the fortune of being his guest. You must be special indeed to have been chosen by him.

So, that was not how he knew the King, and it was beginning to bother Bhaskara, the familiarity. He kept silent, waiting for the King to speak.

Bhaskara, mused the King. Has the name been given by the sage?

He nodded, asking before he could help it. How am I to prove myself?

You shall fight against the best warrior in our kingdom, A proud smile was on the King’s face, his eyes lit with the same emotion. Our son and heir, Arnava. Be not ashamed if you lose, for it is said there is no warrior in all fourteen worlds to equal him.

Let his weapons and skill testify to that, Bhaskara spoke, confident, hoping it didn’t sound like arrogance. This was something he could be certain about. He might not be tried in battle, but he had full faith in his skills.

King Mahakarma chuckled. We like your confidence. A combat between you and Prince Arnava shall be arranged this week. Where do you stay?

In a house in the west street.

The King frowned. That street has only broken-down old buildings. No one stays there.

I found a house that was not in much disrepair, and made it habitable, Bhaskara shrugged. I like my privacy.

I would like to know one more thing, the King said.

Bhaskara gave an inquiring lift of his eyebrows in response. What was it now?

You say you are a warrior, well versed in warcraft, the King’s tone had sharpened, and his eyes were hard. Yet, how is it that your body remains unblemished? There are no scars on you that I can see.

Oh. He should have expected it. He suppressed a sigh as he went with the truth. A powerful enchantment was placed on me by my mother before she died. The sage who brought me up told me that she was an enchantress. The enchantment is protective in nature, and as a result, I cannot be harmed by any weapon forged by man or god or demon. Nothing leaves a scar on me. Pain was another thing altogether. But he was not complaining. He ignored the scattered laughter from the courtiers. He hadn’t expected to be believed, but the King had asked, and why did he if he didn’t want the truth?

The King gasped aloud, his face paling, and eyes wide. Why did he look like that? Did he believe him? He looked like he did. The titters of the courtiers had all died down.

Has the sage told you the name of your mother? the King asked, a slight tremble to his voice.

Bhaskara frowned, anger warring with irritation. I do not see what my mother’s name has to do with anything.

Was her name Malavika? the King asked.

Bhaskara stilled. How did this man know that? He had never told anyone, and neither had sage Astika. How do you know that? He knew his voice was louder than was seemly, and that his emotions were not in control.

I knew her, the King said. I sought the enchantment you speak of once, but she refused to give it to me . . . There was something in the King’s face, a wonder, and joy, but his voice was heavy as he spoke. That isn’t all… If I’m not mistaken, I’m your father, and you… you are my eldest living son, and as such heir to this Kingdom.

Bhaskara stared at him numbly, incredulity and anger warring in his chest. He had dreamt of meeting his father, but the nature of those dreams had differed. At one time, he had dreamt of driving his sword through the heart of the man who had left him and his mother, but that was then. Now, he stared at the eyes so similar to his own, and finally realised why the man looked so familiar.

My father? Bhaskara asked, the words strangled, his heart thumping hard against his ribs, and his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.

The entire court was so silent, Bhaskara could hear his own heart beat loudly. He looked around. Was there any way to make an escape? He felt like a hunted animal, with the way everyone was staring at him, mouths agape.

A soft laughter came from the throne, and Bhaskara’s eyes met the slightly bright eyes of his sire.

Don’t look as if you’re about to be executed, King Mahakarma—his father!—said through wet chuckles. You are the heir to the throne, after all.

There has to be some mistake, Bhaskara insisted, his voice quivering. This was not happening. He was no prince. He grew up in a forest! He just wanted to be a soldier.

The King shook his head, face grim now. Not unless there are two Malavikas who are enchantresses and who knew an enchantment to make their subject invulnerable.

The sage who raised me told me he’d never heard of such an enchantment, Bhaskara admitted, though he didn’t want to. He said he knew of no one else who could have cast it.

I know, The King’s voice was quiet, and there was something in his eyes that looked like sorrow. She told me. She also said that the enchantment would cost her her life which was why she refused to give it to me.

Bhaskara felt as if the words had sliced him open, laying bare all his vulnerable parts for everyone to gawk at. The grief in the King’s expression deepened.

You mean she gave her life to put this enchantment on me? He hardly recognised his own voice.

The King nodded. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Bhaskara was unable to speak, sure that the words would choke him if he tried.

The King rose. Pradhanamantrin, Senapati, Sthapathi, Rajaguru, make arrangements for my son’s stay in the palace, for announcing the arrival of the Yuvaraja to the people, for conducting Pujas at the temple, and for familiarizing him with the kingdom and the army. He paused. Come with me, Bhaskara. I must introduce you to your brothers.

Bhaskara couldn’t move. It felt as if he was rooted to the spot. Two royal guards approached him.

Your highness? One of them prompted gently.

He looked at them, unable to understand what they wanted. He just wanted to be one of them. Why were they treating him with deference? His eyes went to the King.

My father!

The King gestured for him to follow as he walked out of the audience hall.

LIFE SUCKS! Abhi declared.

Aditya lifted his eyebrows but did not answer his brother. Abhi was normally even tempered and sunny, but he too had bad days.

Abhi’s scowl marred his looks, but Aditya thought he looked younger than his twenty years. He lounged on the couch, his long limbs sprawled all over. Looking at Abhi was always a little bit disorienting because of how similar they looked. Apart from the fact that Abhi was younger, and his complexion dusky whereas Aditya’s was fair, there was no difference between them. On his bad days, Abhi used to remark sourly that their mother loved Aditya so much, she gave birth to his xerox copy ten years later. Except that the settings were off, so the copy came out dark and not quite the same. Their parents used to laugh at Abhi’s statement, but not Aditya.

Was it going to be one of those days? He glanced at the newspaper, sipping his coffee. It seemed like too much to hope that Abhi would let him read in peace. Though twenty, Abhi often behaved like he was much younger.

It really sucks! Abhi repeated with a fierce scowl, sitting up on the couch and looking at Aditya where he was sitting next to the coffee table on an armchair.

What happened? Aditya asked, sighing and setting the newspaper aside.

That old professor of yours, Abhi said moodily. That Professor Alex. He’s never satisfied. Whatever I do is never enough. The other day he asked me if I was really your brother!

Aditya chuckled. He’s like that with everyone. He asked me once if I was really Dad’s son! He winked at Abhi, hoping it was enough to mollify his brother. It’s his style. Don’t let it get to you.

I don’t care for his style, Abhi muttered. Thank God he’s retiring this year!

Who’s coming to replace him, do you know? Aditya asked, hoping to direct his thoughts elsewhere.

Don’t remind me! Abhi placed his face between his hands. No, no, no and I don’t see why you should be bothered. You are free of it!

Aditya laughed. Do you think only students have it tough?

I tend to forget you are a teacher these days, Abhi bemoaned. I don’t know why teachers forget all about their own student days as soon as they stand on the other side of the desk!

For the same reason why parents forget all about their childhood as soon as their first child is born, Aditya replied, fighting not to laugh.

That’s so true, Abhi said, grimacing. Talking of parents, when are Dad and Mom returning? Do you know?

Aditya shook his head. His parents were taking a well-deserved break using Grandma’s illness as an excuse. He knew there was nothing wrong with Grandma, but the usual ailments of old age, but if his parents wanted to spend some time in their native village, away from all their responsibilities, he wouldn’t grudge them that.

No, but shouldn’t you be concentrating on your assignment for Professor Alex? Granted, he’s retiring at the end of next month, but he’s certainly going to make your life miserable for the entire two months if you don’t turn it in on time.

I know, Abhi sighed. "I’ve finished it.