Beyond {UNDER EDIT}

S1-2-Throne Of Competence

Gradually the line proceeded.

Almost everyone in the crowd seemed to be eager to enter, except for the four boys. But they ensured that their thoughts didn't reflect on their faces. Already a group of people were being whipped naked in a corner by the King's soldiers. Their cries of agony were ignored .

The punishment.

Abhay saw the people. Men, women, children and even some elder, were all stripped of their dignity and being whipped mercilessly. 'The men and children would be taken as slaves, the women would be raped and the old men would be left to die.' Abhay knew their fate. He turned his face away from the horrible sight. He felt powerless.

"Not long. We won't be seeing this torture once we escape." replied Rohak, somehow reading his thoughts. Abhay smiled and looked around, ensuring that none other than Panav and Ojas had heard this.

Escape.

That was the only word which kept them motivated enough to perform the daily activities. Somehow, the life beyond the mountains seemed to have answers to all their questions. Did nice people exist beyond the mountains, except for the evil Praveg Clan? Did the demons actually thrive? Did the exotic places like oceans, whose references were only heard in old mythological tales, actually exist?

But the main reason was a mythological place called Chand. It was believed to be a land of justice and dignity. It was rumored to have stone buildings so tall, that they kissed the clouds. But many had gone in search of this place and none had returned. The four somehow believed that this place existed and they would live a happy life there.

Apart from these common reasons, each one of them had deep personal reasons as well. Personal questions, whose answers could only be obtained by going north of the Makara River.

Deep thoughts engulfed Abhay's mind - 'The only problems we will face will be crossing the ice-cold Makara River, and dealing with the Praveg Clan. I guess Saathi will help us overcome the crossing. But the only option to deal with the Praveg Clan will be sneaking stealthily past them.'

Saathi, it was a handmade small wooden raft, named by Ojas. For the past many years, all of them had secretly built it in their room by collecting the woods while doing field work. Panav and Rohak had even tested it many times in the small pond beside their orphanage during various nights. But whether or not Saathi would help them cross the river, that only time would tell.

"Move your filthy ass, will ya'!"

Abhay shook his head and realized that a soldier was yelling at him. He had already reached the gate, while lost in thoughts. People muttered abuses from behind him. Rohak gave him a light push.

"Oh, sorry." He said and moved on. Panav and Ojas chuckled.

A few steps and they were inside the huge amphitheater. Over-enthusiastic people cheered from all sides and there were hardly any places left to sit. Far away on the stage sat an old dark man.

His hands were filled with weird bracelets while his torso was painted with weird dark lines and a glittery painted white eye adorned his creased forehead. His overgrown rough hair hung loose and several burning incense sticks were stuck in between them. The smoke gradually rising, forming a halo of smoke, gave him a heavenly appearance.

He sat cross-legged, his hands rested on both his knees. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be meditating, probably oblivious of the shouts around him.

Panav noticed a few empty places on the top, and all four of them ran upwards towards it.

Meanwhile everyone had their eyes fixed on the old man. They waited anxiously for any sign or movement. The King himself was one of them, as he sat on his reserved decorated seat.

The old man exhaled his breath and ever so slowly pulled up his eyelids. This slight movement caused the whole crowd to fall silent.

Pin drop silence.

Ojas sweared that he could hear the Makara river flowing. The birds chirped overhead and the white clouds drifted towards the horizon.

A swift wind arrived momentarily causing the people to shield their eyes.

The man stood up. Slowly. Everyone lowered their heads and bowed down, even the King himself.

''Om Namah Shivay.'' The man muttered and observed his audience.

In front of the citizens of Surya town stood Saint Devarishi. A wandering vagabond, he had arrived from the mountains years back, before the four had been born. He had claimed to be sent by Lord Shiva himself. As the famous tale went, the King had initially planned to execute him, assuming him to be a spy of Praveg Clan. But supposedly the sword stopped right when his head was about to be chopped. Then Lord Shiva himself had appeared in the execution room and killed everyone, everyone except the King. The king was then told that the saint was sent to guide the citizens towards the path of moksha, salvation.

There were many plays and poems to ensure that this incident never left the mind of the people anytime soon.

Now, the saint looked weak, but even the King feared him. All the people were prepared to execute every command of his and the King himself held a sub-ordinate position. His every statement had the power to shape the future.

He put his hands up and screamed -"OM NAMAH SHIVAY!"

The crowd stood up and yelled in response "ALL HAIL DEVARISHI! ALL HAIL DEVARISHI..." and the chant continued.

The saint smiled. He knew he had the authority. He knew he could do anything.