NOVEL NEXT Chapter 30: The Boy Who Stole Mangoes
“Chief! I’m here,” Svetavastra said slowly in Lakhan’s voice to the Kapala Chief in front of him. He held the chief’s face with his hands as if physically trying to make the chief look at him.
The Kapala Chief's eyes flickered, the green fires in his eyes still raged relentlessly. He could see the blurred image of his comrade in front of his eyes.
Svetavastra kept gently calling out to the yaksha, pretending to be his comrade. At the same time, he invoked his spiritual powers to form a barrier surrounding the Kapala Chief and the green pillar of light. He channelled some of his spiritual powers to the Pretabandana so that it could seal itself should anything happen to him. This was a precautionary measure. His spiritual powers were strong but not enough to entirely subdue the unleashed yaksha powers. He took a gamble on Kapala Chief’s attachment to Lakhan to partly subdue the intensity of the green pillar of light.
“Come with me, Chief,” Svetavastra pretending to be Lakhan told the Kapala Chief, now extending his hand to him. The Kapala Chief’s eyes tried to focus on the person calling out to him. Slowly, the blurred image started to get clearer.
The green fire around him raged and spiralled upwards, its intensity unfaltering and unyielding. The dark miasma surrounding it, constricted the Kapala Chief’s chest tightly and he held it with his hand.
Don’t take his hand, the voice in his head whispered to him. Don’t take his hand, you are getting lured. This is not Lakhan.
“Come with me, Chief,” Svetavastra repeated gently.
The Kapala Chief hesitated. His hand inched forward slowly, as he was battling the voice in his head that was imploring against it. Warmth seeped into his hand, as he held what he thought to be Lakhan’s hand. He found strength from the physical contact and the voice in his head started to recede.
“Do you remember when we first met, chief?” Svetavastra as Lakhan asked the Kapala Chief.
The memory unfurled slowly in the Kapala Chief's mind, and his eyes softened. He could still vividly recall the first time he laid eyes on Lakhan—an unruly orphan abandoned to the streets, brimming with raw defiance. That day was drawing to a close in the bustling streets, shadows lengthening as the sun dipped below the horizon. The Kapala Chief, cloaked in this signature black robes, moved with the shadows in the narrow alleys. A skinny teenager with ragged clothes, his breath coming in short gasps nearly collided with him. Skidding to a halt, the teenager’s eyes widened in surprise and fear as he realised the cloaked figure who stood in front of him.
A petty thief, the Kapala Chief had thought then looking at the mangos in his hand.
The sudden sound of footsteps and the distant murmur of a crowd snapped the Kapala Chief to attention. Alert and poised, he sensed the approach of men—perhaps soldiers or angered vendors—drawn by the commotion the boy had caused. He grasped the startled teenager firmly by the arm. The boy barely had time to register what was happening before they were soaring through the air. The leap carried them high above the heads of the bewildered crowd. They landed gracefully, almost silently, atop a nearby market building, crouched in the shadows.
From their elevated vantage point, they watched as the group of men—vendors and a few curious onlookers—scoured the area below, their voices angered and frustrated as they searched for the elusive thief. The boy, heart still racing from the unexpected flight, glanced up at the Kapala Chief with a mix of awe and newfound respect. The Chief, his gaze fixed on the scene below, offered the boy a brief nod.
As the search continued fruitlessly below, the Chief turned his attention back to the boy, the immediate danger passed.
"Stealth and speed, boy,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying a solid weight. “Stealth and speed.”
“Thank you, Sir,” the boy said sheepishly and offered him a mango from the bunch he had stolen.
The Kapala Chief looked at the ripe mango and asked curious,
“Why did you steal these mangoes?” If the teenager was hungry, it made more sense to steal food like roti (flat bread) than fruit.
“They are meant for the king,” the boy explained with a grin. “I wanted to feel equal to the king in some way. I thought if I could eat the same mango as the king, I could be his equal for that moment.”
“I see,” said the Kapala Chief.
“But now I want to be like you,” said the boy.
“I’m a wanted criminal in all the neighbouring kingdoms,” said the Kapala Chief calmly.
“Yet, you can rescue a nobody from the streets without a second thought,” said the boy. “I want to be like you.”
And thus Lakhan joined the bandit army under the Kapala Chief. The lure of three warm meals a day and a routine of training with skilled soldiers quickly made him adapt to the new situation. Within a few short years, he rose to become a squadron leader from a mere soldier and organised raids independently and contributed to the Kapala Army becoming a terror in many kingdoms.
As the Kapala Chief was reminiscing these memories, Svetavastra had his spiritual powers slowly wrapped around the green pillar of light trying to contain the green waves of fire. The green fire, chaotic and untamed, twisted and surged against the entwining spiritual energy. The purple spiritual energy covered all the spirals of green fire, undeterred and patient, it neither rushed nor faltered. The intensity of the green fire slowly started to decline. The heat that emanated from the green fire began to slowly dissipate.
The Kapala Chief’s emotional upheaval was contained by the distraction of recalling his memories of Lakhan, which served as a balm for his heart, steadying it against the tumult within and around him. Svetavastra continued to pour his spiritual energy into the Kapala Chief through his hand to keep the dark miasma at bay.
“Who are you?” the Kapala Chief asked with a wary voice letting go of his hand from Svetavastra’s.