Short Story: The Haunted Beach

Sun mercilessly beat down on the lone traveller. He had another name, given by his parents at the time of his birth, but he came to be known as Akbar. Buckler made of tough leather hide on his back, wearing chain-link armour and his shamsheer at his side, he walked from the port towards the nearby fishing village.

Debal was said to be the greatest port of this world and Akbar felt it wasn’t far off. He had seen great ports of Europe and of Ottoman lands, and Debal had its own charm. The road he walked on was well trodden, forests rising on both sides of the road. A cart laden with fish passed by and the driver, an old man with arms like barbed wire, stopped to give Akbar lift up to the village.

“What’s your name traveller?” The fisherman asked.

“Akbar” Traveller replied

“Your accent … you sound like desert dwellers across the sea. What brings you here?” Fisherman asked

“I hunt witches, and I am here for that purpose” Akbar replied.

Fisherman looked at him askance, noticing several rings adorned in Akbar’s fingers.

“Witches? Which ones do you mean?”

“The one who haunts the western beach.” Akbar replied.

Fisherman went silent. Akbar noticed his unease.

“Do not be afraid, I have spent two years hunting witches in Europe.” Akbar said. “The Duke hired a mercenary company which I was part of, and we killed nearly a hundred of them.”

“Do not speak of the evil,” Fisherman mumbled.

“I kill evil, and here to do just that,” Akbar said. “Where is this beach?”

The fisherman remained silent.

Akbar felt angry at his silence.

“I am here to liberate the land, will you not lend aid to the cause of just? Have you been bewitched by the evil?”

Fisherman looked up indignantly.

“You are young, and young men are foolish. You think your sword will kill a witch?”

“It has killed witches, a dozen of them”

“And how did you recognize a witch?” Fisherman asked.

“I have learned the ways of their trickeries. It is mine to know, no concern of yours.” Akbar replied.

The fisherman frowned and kept his eyes on the road.

The travelled in silence for a while until the village appeared.

The fisherman met the village council while Akbar sat under the shade of the large banyan tree. The council deliberated, then asked to hear Akbar’s objective. Akbar appeared in front of them, unarmed, and explained his witch hunting. The council members discussed amongst themselves, then the eldest member addressed Akbar.

“Traveller, you are not the first one to journey here for witch hunting. In past few years there have been many a fighters, some of them locals, who went to the western beach. None ever returned”

“I know of some of them” Akbar said. “Lohal, a member of my own mercenary group, left for witch hunting a month after witch hunting in Europe. He vanished in his witch hunt here. He knew very little, his ambitions too high. I am not naive like him.”

“Witches of Europe are not the same as witches found here. The witch plays games you can’t fathom.” the elder warned.

“They die the same way, elder one” Akbar replied.

The council members looked at each other, conceding defeat.

“No one goes to the western beach at sunset, the witch haunts the shore” Elder continued. “Our boys will take you close but beyond that the journey is yours. Know that you are warned, peril waits at the end.”

“I am willing to face it, just take me there” Akbar replied.

There was enough sunlight remaining, the days were long. A wagon was called that carried Akbar with 3 local boys, all armed, towards the western beach. It was a two hour journey which they made with little rest. The boys left him at the beginning of strange outcropping, trees bend at an awkward angle towards the shore, with food and fresh water for two days and turned back. Another wagon came from the other end and ran past him towards the village, no one seems to want to stay here with sunset approaching fast.

Akbar began walking, his hand on the hilt of his shamsheer. The road was made of hard rock, running parallel to the shore that was calm at this time. Cool air blew from the sea, saltish feel hung about. Most of the trees bent towards the sea. He kept walking as the sun approached the sea line, its light dimmed and sky slowly adopting shades of red.

A few steps later Akbar saw a figure standing at the beach. Tensed, he gripped his sword and moved fast towards it. The figures clothes blew in the air, black with streaks of red, and it kept looking towards the sea.

A few feet away Akbar dropped his supplies, drew out his shamsheer and gripped his buckler tightly.

“YOU, SHOW YOUR FACE” Akbar yelled.

The figure turned, startled. It was a woman, wearing traditional clothing of the fisherfolk. Bangles adorned her arms all the way to her elbow, sun-burned skin partially hidden by locks of her hair, big eyes looking at him in panic. She gasped at the sight of his sword.

“WHO ARE YOU?” Akbar yelled, advancing towards her. “NAME YOURSELF, WITCH”

The woman, clearly afraid of the sword, seemed offended.

“Witch? How dare you call one of the fisherfolk a witch? Who are you to walk here with foul accusations?”

“Your lies won’t affect me, witch” Akbar said. “No one walks here at sunset except evil.”

The woman seemed startled by that, then relief clearly flooded on her face.

“Oh, so have come finally. I was wondering when will you arrive.” Woman said, her tone calm and gentle.

Akbar felt surprise but he suppressed it.

“Yes, I am here to kill you witch”

The woman laughed. Her laugh was most musical, most genuine Akbar had ever heard. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes on her every move.

“Stop playing games, I know I am in your territory. I am here because I want you to kill me, so why the act?” Woman said with a smile.

“I am not a witch, you are” Akbar snarled. The woman smiled, this time gentleness reflecting in her eyes.

“I don’t care what you say, I know my time is up. He hasn’t returned, the sea has claimed him. Nothing remains for me in this world.” She turned away, facing towards the sea. There was longing on her face as she looked at the sea.

Akbar straightened. His grip on both shamsheer and buckler still tight.

“The witch of the lake played the same, and she had killed two men before I ran my sword through her. I won’t fall for your trick”

The woman seemed to have not heard him.

Akbar inched closer.

“What is the price of silence?” The woman asked.

“Your death” Akbar replied.

The woman faced him.

“And what price did you pay for your silence?”

“I have no price, witch” Akbar replied. She smiled.

“Why do you keep calling me witch? You can stop pretending”

“You are a witch”

“How? What proof do you have?”

“Your presence here”

“So are you, so who is the witch among us?”

Akbar snarled, then raised his shamsheer close to her face.

“Show your full face”

The woman pulled back her hair. Akbar looked for spots, the first indication of a witch. He didn’t find any.

“Show your arms” He said.

The woman began to slide bangles from her arms. With deft fingers she removed them in short time, both arms bare till the elbows. Compared to her face her arms were less sunburned and he spotted a mole on her wrist.

“THERE!” He indicated triumphantly. The woman seemed confused as she looked at it.

“A mole?” She asked. Akbar nodded. Woman raised her finger towards him.

“Then what about the mole on your neck?” She asked.

“I am a man, and men are never witches” Akbar said.

“But witches can take any form, is it not? Aren’t you taking the form of a man to play tricks?” The woman asked.

“Moles of the witches bleed, straighten your hand” Akbar commanded. She straightened his arm, the mole facing towards him.

Quick as lighting, Akbar jabbed the shamsheer point on the mole and raised it back at her face.

Nothing happened. The mole didn’t bleed.

He kept sending glances at her wrist as darkness began to make it difficult to see. He didn’t see any blood coming out.

“Now you, show if your mole bleeds or not” The woman asked calmly.

Akbar kept his sword arm up, retrieved his knife from his belt and jabbed the point at the mole on his neck.

He triumphantly looked at the woman … until he felt wet trickle down his neck.

The mole was bleeding.

Surprised, he nearly dropped his sword. The woman laughed.

“You witches are amusing. You come here to kill, and entertain before killing” She kept laughing.

 “I AM NOT A WITCH” Akbar roared as he put a hand on his neck to stop the bleeding.

“Stop joking, the fun is over now. I am here to mourn and to submit. Just send me to him, I ask nothing more.” The woman said as she turned back towards the sea.

Akbar didn’t know what to say. He was startled by his own bleeding, and the witch didn’t attack nor did she bleed. Is she really a witch? Or is she a woman here to mourn, and die?

“Who are you? And why are you here?” Akbar asked, bringing the sword to his side.

“Someone who is here to mourn. I hear you witches kill painlessly. Suicide is not my way, so I hoped you would help” The woman said.

“I hunt witches, not a witch myself” Akbar said irritably. He put the shamsheer away. The blood flow seemed to have stopped.

“What will you do when you find the witch?” The woman asked. Akbar began wrapping the buckler back on his back.

“I’ll kill her when I do.” He replied.

Sadness pass through her face.

“So you are on a journey?” She asked

“I am.” Akbar replied.

“When our men go out on a journey, we tie a knot on their wrists. For good luck and safe return. If you truly aren’t a witch here to kill me, will you allow me to tie a knot on your wrist?”

Akbar stood motionless for a while. His indicators had failed, but he was a suspicious man. Still, there was no point in denying the woman when she proved she wasn’t a witch. He nodded his head.

The woman took out a thin black ribbon and approached him. He raised his right hand and she began to tie the knot. As she did, tears welled in her eyes and began to flow down her cheeks.

Akbar felt ashamed. Her emotion was genuine and he had assumed a woman to be a witch.

Once tied, the woman hid her face in her hands. Akbar felt emotionally drained, as if he just carried a mountain over his shoulders. She began to vigorously rub her face, attempting to clear the tears from her eyes and face.

Akbar sighed, raised his arms to tell her to calm down when she stopped rubbing her face and removed her hands.

Her face no longer had eyes nor nose, just a mouth with red lips turned into a wicked smile.

Akbar stopped dead in his position, feeling fear creeping up through his spine. The faceless woman began to laugh, an eerie sound that sent chills through bones. Akbar began to back away but his legs began to fail. He tried to grab his shamsheer with his right hand, but his wrist felt heavy as a boulder, fingers lifeless. He fell backwards as the faceless woman approached him, walking with the wicked laughter.

She stood above him, continuing with the laugh as consciousness escaped him and Akbar’s eyes closed as darkness completely encircled the sky.

Book Review: Broken Triad

Published in 2013, Broken Triad – Storm of Assassins by Mohammed Qasim Mehdi is the latest epic fantasy/sci-fi crossover genre novel in contemporary English. It is probably the first such English novel from Pakistan that was written while the author was an undergraduate student at Lahore University of Management Sciences.

I have seen this before

The story has a deja vu quality to it. Katash, an elite assassin from the Guardian cadres of Senate and the People’s Republic, leads a team to kill a traitor and a group of powerful people of Autariates of Necroxium. Realizing that a certain secret has been spread, the team splits up to kill as many enemies they can before returning to their nation. On return journey Katash meets a boy Aeli, apprentice of a sage looking for his purpose in the world, and saves him from bandits. He takes him under his tutorship and goes to Grand Bazaar where Aeli makes a new friend Guli, bonds with a rare Shaheen Aeris and survives a mixup with the notorious Assassin of Assassins.

At the city of Alcadia Aeli begins to live with Katash and his mother and initiates training under Katash for admission to the elite Guardian College of Alcadia. The plot reveals the functioning of Aura, the demonic hordes of Autariates and Elves of Elforcium that play major role in plot after halfway through the story. The story is relatively simple, mostly from Aeli and Katash’s point of view, and several people and races (Elves, Dwarves, Torians etc) come into contact with Aeli once he reaches Grand Bazaar and then Alcadia.

The elements of the this plot are familiar. The way the story progresses, one can identify certain features that may have been inspired from existing fiction work such as Star Wars, Naruto, Eragon, Shaman King etc. The plot is a collection of inspiring incidents of famous works adapted for a single storyline. While interesting, the story itself is not very original even if it has some refreshing qualities.

Chunin Exams

Readers familiar with Naruto universe will either take a strong liking or strong disliking of Broken Triad. The combat system is highly similar to the Ninja fighting in Naruto, including summoning and forbidden arts, and evolution of wisps has similarities with both Pokemon and Flame of Recca. The entrance exam for Guardian College of Alcadia, patterned the same way as the famous Chunin Exams of Naruto, may as well been re-living of the Naruto’s exams rather than of Broken Triad.

The first fight of Aeli and Guli with two girls is similar to Beyblade’s competitions (Tyson and partners) as well as Shaman King (Asakura Yoh) who win their initial fights with ease. The subsequent fights that gets harder has strong resemblance to how the events of Chunin Exams last round progressed (El playing a role similar to Neji, Kung being a mixture of Gaara and Rock Lee etc) and evolution Aeli’s wisp is similar to Kurei’s flame evolution when it absorbs soul of Kurenai in Flame of Recca. The betrayal, the nations at war towards the end of exams and grand finish (Aeli against the demon Belial while Naruto against Gaara) are extremely similar.

Page 91

Katash began his lesson, “There are five levels of celestials. They are wisps, djinns, spirits, titans and phantoms. Wisps are pure energy, as they gain experience, they evolve into djinns. Other than wisps all the rest have unique shapes. Like Pyra is a spirit and takes the shape of a burning wolf. Celestials cannot be killed; when they are seriously wounded, they dissipate from real space (our universe) back into the phase space (A region were they come from) to heal themselves.”

The above dialogue shows inspiration from video games (of evolution by gaining experience) and returning of celestials to heal (Pokemon and Codex Alera).

Places are named in cliched way … Plaguis in Land of Plague, Skyris, Cholixian Desert … they are either twisted forms of existing names or conveniently named based on what the place is going through. Elves are inspired from Lord of the Rings movies and shown as quite condescending, dwarves as dwarves are in most fantasy novels (merchants and miners) and there is a hint of role playing games to the way events move (particularly Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim).

Katash is Sensei to Aeli, Assassin of Assassins is Tutor to his pupils and such are the actual namings of student-teacher relations in the novel. There is high penetration of electronic and futuristic weaponry (with no indication of how electricity is generated to run the electronic items) and fighting, while a crossover of Naruto and Shaman King, has elements of third person video game Devil May Cry 3 where fighters use swords as well as guns during combat. Some elements are yet to be explained, for example why would they still use “tube lights” as light source when they have futuristic weaponry like Plasma cannons and sophisticated robotics that merge with human neural system?

The historical background and political structures are detailed and covered thoroughly, though much of it feels unoriginal because of so much borrowing of elements from works and adjusting it within the story line.

A Journey of Discovery

The novel strongly focused on the journey to self discovery, even if that road is not so well planned out. Curiosity provides the trigger to most adventures, good or bad, that Aeli and Guli go through. Curiosity got both Aeli and Guli in trouble regarding the mysterious package, it nearly got them in trouble for eavesdropping on secret meeting and it brought them close to death a few times. This also sheds light on their growing friendship that begins in Grand Bazaar and sees them through the biggest fight of their lives.

Family and relations are another explored dimension where Katash’s mother is practically a Pakistani mother … lamenting the fact that Katash is 31 years old and unmarried, meaning she is still longing for the day when she will become a grandmother (and thus takes a liking to Aeli as a grandchild). Guli and El’s remembrance of their fallen family members (another similarity to Naruto universe), showing the side of military families in a society dominated by elite forces.

Immature

The characters are mostly bland, lacking distinctiveness and personalities. Of all the people that readers come across in the story, two stand out … the dwarf selling eagles and monkeys in Grand Bazaar and El, the granddaughter of head of Guardian order. They are both unique, have certain behavior that remained consistent, the dialogues correlate with their personalities and realistic approaches to the situation they find themselves into.

Aeli, despite being former apprentice of a sage, apparently shows no signs of any sage influence. Katash has been made a combination of Kakashi and Jiraiya (Naruto’s teachers), and a failed one at that. He neither shows any signs of being senior and most trusted guardian, he is immature as a teenager and clearly lacks foresight that people have after crossing the dreaded mark of 30 years.

Similarly many other characters show immature behavior and are constantly annoying. For example, during the raid at the start of the story when some people run away, one guardian asks:

“Some of them ran away Katash. What should we do?”

Seriously? Members of elite Guardian order and they don’t know what to do when some targets ran away? The scene certainly shows a group of fighters who are good at fighting but have no idea about planning and objectives … a far cry from what elite groups really are (and they don’t joke around or taunt “Ow. I am so scared” either while attacking a room full of enemies).

The Less Said, The Better

Dialogues and language are quite disappointing. There is a lot more “Telling” than “Showing”, leading to rather badly scripted monologues and explanations that one would rather skip than suffer through. The starting monologue of Lord of Plagia about the return of their master and destruction of their enemies is bad enough that die hard fantasy readers would smack their heads and dread how worse it would get.

The book is littered with grammatical errors and spelling mistakes, showing a lack of proper editorial work.

Conclusion

Broken Triad: Storm of Assassins is a refreshing initiation of cross-genre literature in Pakistan despite being a disappointing first book. Even though it is made up of mostly borrowed concepts, that doesn’t mean it lacks creativity. The story has some attraction and better character build up will surely take it to a whole new level. The journey is something similar to what “Eragon” went through and there is a clear indication that with some mentor-ship and training, the story can become 1000 times better than what it currently is. A re-write of this novel under professional guidance can even make it a globally accepted literature, if the author wishes to take that route.

Book Review: Last of the Tasburai

First published in 2014, Last of the Tasburai by Rehan Khan is an epic fantasy novel that combines sword fighting and combat tactics of Samurai with the teachings of Sufi mystics. Tasburai, an order of warriors with near-holy purpose, have now become a tool of oppression under tyrannical regime of Avanist Republic.

Nicely Woven Narrative

The story begins with a young apprentice Adan following criminals and catching them finally. The ensuing fight was later joined by Tasburai grand masters Naram-Sin and Suri-Yi where they capture a man wearing metal mask and take him to Oblivion, the dreaded prison of the Avanist Republic. At the same time Ylva, a free-spirited young thief belonging to a large family with Robin Hood’s idea of justice, led defenders of Kronnoburg on a merry chase until deliberately giving up and getting caught.

The subsequent events give the readers insight to the corruption within Tasburai order, the crumbling of Kronnoburg’s ruling elite and pathetic defense, the imperialistic designs of Avanist Republic and valiant efforts of handful of people to avert the upcoming disaster … the return of Magrog. The narrative flow is fluent and story doesn’t break or lead to confusing side stories, allowing the reader to fully enjoy the book which is paced nicely as well. There is nothing out of the box, rather scientifically well crafted story with all the necessary elements, cliff hangers and twists. Good guys going bad, politics and deception, heroic rescue, honor and sacrifice, new world order … all can be found in the book.

Well Developed World

From the walls of Kronnoburg to the dungeon of Avanist, the world in Last of the Tasburai is well built for immersive reading. Although not much descriptive, it is well placed to give a sense of importance and allow readers to imagine it for themselves. That, however, is also a cause of concern because their is a lack of scalability for the reader to compare. How exactly thick are the walls of Kronnoburg, there is no size given or comparison made. Similarly it is often tough to feel how big a place is or how long the boat is to carry so many people.

The areas around the place, such as Duria, need more details. Some of the naming is also borrowed that slightly puts the world off-balance. One part of the world is clearly Roman, another is Indian while the rest is imagined. Avanist, Krokonite, Kronnoburg are all in close vicinity of each other and such strikingly different names do not add up from cultural and linguistic point of view.

Another problem with this world is that barely a generation has passed since the previous war with Magrog. Many people from previous war are still alive such as Suri-Yi, Narem-Sin, Olaf the Generous etc. Within 30 years people do not forget everything. Soldiers don’t lose their fighting abilities completely but near survival makes them appreciate good warrior skills and discipline combat (both completely missing from Kronnoburg that was the center of fight against Magrog). Scary creatures like Xettin and Ifreet do not become fairy tales to scare children especially when people fought them just a couple of decades back. The timeline being explored in the story has these loopholes that make behavior of the current generation quite unrealistic.

Deception, Corruption, Destruction

The corruption within Tasburai order and emergence of more hardliners, the Hawarij, shows the downfall of tolerance and rise of those who lack compassion. The more worldly resemblance can be made with the slow erosion of Sufism and rise of militant Islam in the form of ISIS/Taliban, leading to intolerance seeping within the world that lead to great catastrophes.

The disintegration of morals, as in the case of Kronnoburg’s royalty as well as fighting cadres, also shows downfall of those who forget their past and have no sense of future. This leaves them wide open for not only deception from outside but incompetence from within, losing half the battle before it even begins.

The novel also explores the concepts of Good vs Evil, such as the Good Tasburai and the Bad Tasburai (Demon Blood that takes hold), the Xettin who kill anything that moves, Ifreet that burn their enemies, Magrog that destroy every living form in their way and humans that defend their very existence. Old friends are now enemies and some people that never change. The novel also explores the age-old split personality, often used in both psychological and fantasy/sci-fi genres, where Adan is possessed by alter-ego that loves killing.

Diversity of People

The characters are diverse and both genders are found in strong roles in the novel. Suri-Yi is certainly one of the fiercest fighters in the Tasburai order and as the story progress, her past begins to unravel and she becomes a more real person than the teacher she is. Adan similarly grows but not much compared to Suri-Yi, Princess Elsta and Rikart Navrose. He remains stagnant most of the story until dilemmas begin to grip him and he has to denounce his teacher.

Olaf the Generous is one of the most genuine characters of the novel who steals from the rich and distribute it to the poor. Ylva, his daughter, is similarly well crafted that has taken after him. Adan’s motivation to be the best Tasburai, Naram-Sin’s to bring in new world order and Princess Elsta’s to be the perfect Queen who is married to the perfect King are all realistically crafted.