Soul
Warrior
The
Age of Kali
Book
1
Falguni
Kothari
Genre:
Mythic fantasy or urban fantasy
Publisher:
Falguni Kothari
Date
of Publication: November 5th, 2015.
ISBN:
ebook 9781944048006
ISBN:
print 9781944048013
ASIN:
B0160TBA44
Number
of pages: 404
Word
Count: 120,000 words
Cover
Artist: Hang Le
Book
Description:
Fight
fate, or succumb to destiny?
In
the dark Age of Kali, the Soul Warrior alone stands guard over the
Human Realm, protecting its denizens from evil-willed asuras or
demons. When a trick of fate appoints him guru to a motley crew of
godlings, he agrees to train them as demon hunters against his better
judgment. Suddenly, Lord Karna is not only battling the usual asuras
with sinister agendas, but also rebellious students and a
fault-ridden past.
Spanning
the cosmic realms of mythic India, here is a tale of a band of
supernatural warriors who come together over a singular purpose: the
salvation of Karna’s secret child.
Excerpt:
DWANDA-YUDDHA:
THE DUEL
The
Himalayan Mountains.
Five
thousand years ago.
Absolute
darkness shrouded the Human Realm, and had for three days and three
nights. Some believed the occurrence was prophetic, like the
prolonged amavasya or new moon night that had heralded the Great Kuru
War two thousand years ago. The war had given birth to the dark Age
of Kali, the age of asura. In contrast, hope was ripe that this event
would trigger the Age of Light. But the Bard wasn’t here to succumb
to superstition.
The
first day without the sun’s light had spread confusion and chaos
across the realm. The second day had brought desperation in the
breasts of humans and fear in the belly of Celestials. The third
day—today—was a feast for the asuras. Death lay everywhere.
The
human world burned without its sun. How soon before the Heavens went
up in flames?
The
Bard’s troubled eyes reread the last line. Then he deliberately
scratched it off, lifting his long, pointed talon from the parchment
made of dry palm leaf. With a sigh, he rested his aching hand on his
trembling thigh. He would spare a moment to ease his body, and his
mind from the strain of observation and due recordkeeping. If he
didn’t, he’d forget his duty as Witness of the Cosmos, and begin
to question fate.
Despite
the fire that crackled close to his right knee, and the feathered
form of his upper body, he was cold. An icy wind had settled around
the Pinnacle of Pinnacles, where he sat cross-legged on a seat made
of rock and snow. He’d chosen this perch because it gave him an
impartial view of the events happening in the world. He was the Bard,
entrusted with keeping the Canons of the Age of Kali, just as the
Soul Warrior was entrusted with keeping the Human Realm safe from
asuras. Would they both fail in their duty today?
The
Bard shook off the heavy despair the darkness had brought into the
world. He mustn’t judge. He shouldn’t question. He would sharpen
the talon on his forefinger, dip it into the vessel of ink kept warm
by the fire, and write this tale. That was all he could do. Be the
witness to history.
So
he raised his feathered hand and began to write again while his eyes,
sparked with power, knowledge and magic, saw clearly events unfolding
from great distances. A thousand kilometers to his right, Indra, the
God of War and Thunder, fought the Dragon. Indra did not fare well.
But that didn’t concern the Bard as much as the clash between the
Soul Warrior and the Stone Demon. Over and over, his eagle eyes were
drawn to the duel taking place in the heart of the world, not only
because it was a magnificent battle to behold, for it was, but
because its outcome would decide mankind’s destiny.
The
Soul Warrior was more than a great warrior. Karna was a great soul.
Fair, honorable, brave and resilient, he was the perfect protector of
the Human Realm. Of course, there were other reasons he’d been
chosen to fill the office of Soul Warrior—there always were when
Gods and demons were involved. But Karna’s existence was a
testament to righteous action and if anyone could bring back the day,
it would be him.
But
how did one vanquish stone, the Bard wondered?
Avarice
and cruelty, two nefarious desires, had made Vrtra and Vala attack
the Human Realm. Three days ago the Dragon had swallowed the Seven
Rivers in the north, and the Stone Demon had imprisoned the Sun God,
his daughter, and all the cattle of the region in his cave.
The
Bard paused his writing as a thin vein of lightning winked across the
skies, but without the accompanying roar. Indra’s strength waned.
His thunderbolt hadn’t left Vrtra screaming in pain this time. The
Bard spared a moment’s attention on the duel, just enough to note
that the Maruts, the Celestial Storm-gods, waited in the clouds to
rescue their god-king in case of a calamity. Indra would survive even
in defeat. Of that, the Bard was sure.
But
Karna had no one at his back. His might and god-powers had depleted
without the sun’s healing warmth and light. His divine astras,
weapons, had not slowed the Stone Demon down, at all. Only the
conviction that he could not fail his godsire, his sister, and the
innocents under his protection drove him now. His birth family had
once abandoned him to his fate, but he would not abandon them to
theirs—such was the greatness of Karna.
The
Bard crossed out the last observation. No questions. No judgment. No
praise, either. The canons would be free of all emotion. He wasn’t
here to embellish history or glorify the history-makers, as some
bards were wont to do.
It
wasn’t embellishment to write that the foothills of Cedi were
drenched in the Soul Warrior’s blood. Or observe the gushing wounds
on his body, despite his armor, that would make the hardiest of
warriors bellow in agony, but not him. It wasn’t embellishment to
write that the Heavens were empty for the Celestials had come to
Earth to watch the battle, firelight cupped in their palms to light
the warrior’s way.
The
Naga, the Serpent People, also looked on, hissing from the mouth of
the portal that led to their underground realm beneath the hills. The
Serpent King will not choose a side. Vrtra and Vala were half Naga,
after all. All across the Human Realm, demons roamed free, taking
advantage of the darkness and preying on human flesh and human souls.
It was a terrible moment in history. The asuras had the upper hand in
the eponymous age of Demon Kali.
Vala
did not have arms and half a leg, but still he came at Karna. He had
an ace up his sleeve. There were plenty of creatures about, an entire
mountain close at hand. He began to chant the spell of soul
transference. It was the darkest of all magic, the possession of
another’s soul. Soon, he would be whole again and stronger than
before.
Battered
and bleeding, the Soul Warrior veered away from the Stone Demon. He
leapt over boulders and charred vegetation. The onlookers called him
a coward. Had he forfeit the duel? Has he forsaken mankind?
Karna
dove for Manav-astra, the spear of mankind, he’d thrown aside
yesterday after his bow, Vijaya, had shattered under repeated use. In
one smooth motion, he rolled, picked up the astra, coming up in the
spear-thrower’s stretch. His tattered lower garment billowed about
him as a gust of wind shot through the air. His muscled torso
glistened with blood and sweat, tightened as he pulled the arm
holding the spear back.
He
meant to throw Manav-astra at Vala. A futile attempt, to be sure? As
long as Vala was made of stone, broken or not, his body was
impregnable. Karna should have waited for Vala to transfer his soul
to an onlooker. Then Karna should have vanquished the possessed
creature.
Taunting
laughter reverberated through the foothills of Cedi. Vala had reached
the same conclusion. The Celestials looked at each other in angry
silence, unable to interfere. A dwanda-yuddha duel was fought between
two opponents of equal size and strength alone. The humans hadn’t
stopped screaming in three days, the din simply background noise now.
The
Bard scribbled the observations onto the parchment in no particular
order. He wished he was a painter, for surely this was a picture
worth a thousand words.
The
demon hobbled toward the warrior, who stood still as stone with his
arm drawn taught behind him. Then finally, with a roaring chant the
Soul Warrior shifted his weight from his back leg to his front and
let fly Manav-astra at the Stone Demon with all his remaining might.
Karna
didn’t wait to see the ramifications of his action. And there were
plenty to come. He ran into the mountain cave to free Vala’s
hostages. Within moments the rock face rent in half, and bright
streams of light speared through the terrible darkness. A new day had
dawned on the Human Realm after three days of perpetual night.
The
sun’s power was too bright, too full of hope. Yet, the Bard looked
on pensively, wondering if the Soul Warrior knew this wasn’t a
victory. It was merely a reprieve.
About
the Author:
Falguni
Kothari is a New York-based South Asian author and an amateur Latin
and Ballroom dance silver medalist with a semi-professional
background in Indian Classical dance.
She’s
published in India in contemporary romance with global e-book
availability; Bootie and the Beast (Harlequin Mills and Boon) and
It’s Your Move, Wordfreak! (Rupa and Co.), and launches a mythic
fantasy series with Soul Warrior – Book 1, the Age of Kali.
Website:
http://falgunikothari.com/
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/F2tweet
Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/falgunikothari
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