This is Part 1 of The Hateful Hunt, a free web novel posted in parts. For the full story and upcoming episodes, visit The Hateful Hunt page.
Shimla, Himachal Pradesh, 1885
The rain fell softly over Shimla, the droplets tapping a mournful rhythm against the thatched roofs of the clustered houses. The usually lively town, nestled in the serene embrace of the Himalayas, was shrouded in a heavy, ominous silence. The skies were dark, not just with the approaching storm, but with the dread that had settled over its people. King Rudra Pratap Chandel, a name that sent shivers down the spines of even the bravest, had marked a new target – Awdhesh Kamat.
Awdhesh, a man revered for his profound knowledge and unyielding compassion, had devoted his life to the service of others. Born into a lineage of scholars, he was known as the “educated monk,” a master of ancient mantras and sacred verses. His humble abode, filled with ancient texts and scrolls, was a sanctuary for those seeking wisdom and solace. But today, his sanctuary had become a cage, and the wisdom he possessed had become a dangerous weapon.
In the dim light of his small room, Awdhesh sat cross-legged on a straw mat, surrounded by the very texts that now threatened his life. His eyes, though weary, burned with a fierce determination. He had uncovered something extraordinary – verses that could unlock the secrets of the Mayavi Jungle.
The Mayavi Jungle, a place wrapped in mystery and fear, was said to be guarded by demons and witches, cursed by Acharya Devdutta centuries ago. Deep within this treacherous forest lay a treasure, hidden by Veer Bhadra Chandel, the great-grandfather of the ruthless King Rudra Pratap Chandel. This treasure was no ordinary trove of gold and jewels; it was a symbol of hope, a beacon for those suffering under British rule.
Awdhesh had spent years deciphering ancient scriptures, piecing together the mantras that could guide someone safely through the jungle’s deadly traps. He knew the dangers, but he also knew that this treasure could free his people from poverty and despair.
As Awdhesh whispered the final verse, the room seemed to tremble with the power of his words. He realized that what he had discovered was no ordinary mantra; it was a force that could change the course of history. But just as the last syllable left his lips, a loud knock shattered the silence.
Awdhesh’s heart skipped a beat. That knock – a sound as ominous as a death knell. Slowly, he rose, his hands trembling as he reached for the door. On the other side stood Vikram Singh, the king’s most loyal commander, flanked by two soldiers. Their faces were as cold and unyielding as the steel of their swords.
“Awdhesh Kamat,” Vikram Singh’s voice was low and menacing, “The king requests your presence. Now.”
Awdhesh’s heart pounded, but he knew there was no escape. With a solemn nod, he gathered his robes and followed the soldiers out into the rain-soaked streets.
The palace of King Rudra Pratap Chandel loomed over the town like a dark fortress, its spires piercing the stormy sky. The king, a man whose cruelty was matched only by his ambition, sat on his throne, his eyes gleaming with malice as Awdhesh was brought before him.
The grand hall was filled with the king’s courtiers, all whispering among themselves as Awdhesh was forced to kneel. The king’s advisors, men with their own sinister agendas, smirked as they watched the once-revered monk bow in submission.
“Do you know why you are here, Awdhesh Kamat?” The king’s voice was smooth, like silk over a blade.
Awdhesh raised his head slowly, meeting the king’s gaze with unwavering resolve. “I have committed no crime, Your Majesty.”
The king chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth. “No crime? You dare to defy me? You dare to seek the treasure that belongs to my family, to my dynasty?”
The hall fell silent as the king’s words echoed off the stone walls. Awdhesh remained silent, knowing that any response would only seal his fate.
“You see, Awdhesh,” the king continued, leaning forward on his throne, “I know what you have discovered. I know about the verses, the mantras. And I cannot allow you to live.”
Awdhesh’s heart sank as the king’s words hit him like a physical blow. He had known the risks, but he had hoped that his noble intentions would protect him. But here, in the heart of the king’s palace, surrounded by enemies, he realized that hope was a luxury he could no longer afford.
King Rudra Pratap rose from his throne, his expression cold and merciless. “Take him to the square,” he ordered. “Let the people see what happens to those who defy me.”
As the soldiers dragged Awdhesh away, the king turned to his advisors. “Prepare the horse,” he said, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Let his death be a lesson to all.”
The town square, usually buzzing with life, was eerily quiet as the soldiers dragged Awdhesh to the center. The rain had stopped, leaving the air thick with dread. The villagers, who had gathered to witness the spectacle, watched in horror as the king’s men prepared Awdhesh for a gruesome execution.
Awdhesh was tied to the back of a wild horse, his hands bound tightly behind him. The horse, a massive beast with eyes wild and untamed, pawed at the ground, sensing the tension. The soldiers tightened the ropes, ensuring there would be no escape.
As the king’s men stepped back, a hush fell over the crowd. Awdhesh looked at the faces of the people he had tried to save, their eyes filled with fear and sorrow. He knew his death would not be in vain. The knowledge he had uncovered would one day bring freedom to his people. But in this moment, all he could feel was the weight of impending doom.
King Rudra Pratap appeared on a balcony overlooking the square, his eyes cold and unfeeling. With a single motion, he signaled for the execution to begin.
The horse was whipped into a frenzy, rearing up before taking off at a breakneck speed. Awdhesh was dragged behind it, his body jolting and bouncing as the horse galloped through the streets. The villagers gasped and turned away, unable to bear the sight of their revered monk being treated so cruelly.
The horse raced through the town, its hooves thundering against the cobblestones. Awdhesh’s body was battered and broken, his robes torn and bloodied. But even as death approached, his thoughts were not of fear or regret. He thought of his son, Giri, the boy who would one day carry on his legacy. He thought of the verses he had created, the mantras that would guide someone to the treasure hidden within the Mayavi Jungle. And he thought of the people, the men and women who would one day rise against their oppressors.
As the horse finally came to a halt, Awdhesh’s lifeless body slumped to the ground. The villagers watched in stunned silence as the soldiers untied him and carried his body away. The king had made his point clear: no one dared to challenge the Chandel dynasty.
As night fell, the rain began to pour once again, washing away the bloodstains from Shimla’s cobblestones. In a small clearing outside the town, Awdhesh’s body was laid on a pyre, the flames crackling as they began to consume him.
Alka Kamat, his widow, stood by the pyre, her face streaked with tears. She clutched the hand of her young son, Giri, who watched the flames with a mixture of grief and determination. The boy’s eyes, once filled with innocence, now burned with a fire that matched the flames consuming his father’s body.
As the flames rose higher, a figure emerged from the shadows. Adhirath Nath, Awdhesh’s old friend and fellow scholar, approached the pyre with a heavy heart. He placed a hand on Giri’s shoulder, his voice gentle but firm.
“Your father was a great man,” Adhirath said, his eyes filled with sorrow. “But his work is not yet finished. Come with me, Giri. I will teach you the ways of the verses, and together, we will carry on your father’s legacy.”
Giri looked up at Adhirath, his young face set with determination. He nodded, knowing that this was the path he was destined to take. He would avenge his father’s death, and he would unlock the secrets of the Mayavi Jungle.
As the pyre burned brightly against the night sky, Giri made a silent vow. He would return to Shimla one day, stronger and wiser, and he would take his revenge.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Upcoming Episode Details
Mark your calendars! The journey continues on Wednesday, 21 August 2024, with the release of Part 2 of “The Hateful Hunt.” In the next episode, Giri, now under the guidance of Adhirath Nath, will begin his training in the ancient verses. As the mystery of the Mayavi Jungle deepens, new allies and enemies emerge, setting the stage for an epic confrontation. Don’t miss out on the next thrilling installment as Giri takes his first steps towards avenging his father and uncovering the hidden secrets of the jungle.
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