Shadowland

Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

Description

Shadowland is a novel that begins with the readers being told that Anand, the protagonist of the story has just started getting used to life as an apprentice in the Silver Valley, which is located in the Himalayas. Anand also endeavors to master the arts of the Brotherhood, while he is staying there. However, this plan is rudely interrupted when Anand discovers that a mysterious, evil force has stolen the conch, which provides magical power to his Himalayan home.

Now Anand, and his friend Nisha must make every attempt to recover the stolen conch in order to restore power to Anand’s home. This marks their adventurous journey into the mysterious and forbidden Shadowland.

Sujets

• Magical Realism
• Young Adult
• Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)
• Adventure (Guyana)
• Realism
• Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
• Magic (paranormal)
• Brotherhood
• Adventure
• Fiction
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: Roli Books
• Date de parution: 01 janvier 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9789351940555
• Langue: English

Extrait

Shadowland
Award-winning author and poet, Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni is widely known for her novels, Sister of My Heart, The Mistress of Spices, The Vine of Desire, Queen of Dreams and The Palace of Illusions. Translated into 13 languages, including Dutch, Hebrew and Japanese, her other writings include two prize-winning short story collections, two volumes of poetry, and her novels for young children. Among the awards and citations she has are the O. Henry Prize, two Pushcart Prizes, and the American Book Award. Born in India, she currently lives in Texas where she teaches creative writing at the University of Houston.

ROLI BOOKS
This digital edition published in 2014
First published by Roaring Brook Press, USA, 2009
Published in 2011 by IndiaInk An Imprint of Roli Books Pvt. Ltd M-75, Greater Kailash- II Market New Delhi 110 048 Phone: ++91 (011) 40682000 Email: [e-mail] Website: www.rolibooks.com
Copyright © Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, 2014
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, mechanical, print reproduction, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of Roli Books. Any unauthorized distribution of this e-book may be considered a direct infringement of copyright and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Cover Design: Pinaki De
eISBN: 978-93-5194-055-5
All rights reserved. This e-book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated, without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form or cover other than that in which it is published.
Contents
one
Disaster!
two
The Hermit’s Cave
three
Shadowland
four
The Farm
five
Scientists
six
The Party
seven
A Way Out
eight
The Magicians
nine
The Laboratory
ten
What S Remembered
eleven
The Announcement
twelve
Friends
thirteen
Showdown
fourteen
The Vision
fifteen
Trouble
sixteen
An Unexpected Turn
seventeen
The Return
eighteen
A Final Lesson
one
Disaster!

Anand paced up and down the length of the cave, which was dimly lit by a sputtering lamp that was threatening to extinguish itself. His footsteps echoed against the cave’s damp, roughhewn walls. He was vexed, and who could blame him? He’d been waiting here in this freezing hole high on a cliffside for four days now – the last twenty-four hours without food or water. And there was still no sight or sound of the hermit he’d come all this way to meet! If he hadn’t seen the man himself on a couple of occasions in the past year, clambering up the side of a distant crag like a skinny goat, his gray hair blown helter-skelter and his robe billowing in the wind, he would have doubted his very existence in spite of all that Abhaydatta, the Master Healer, had told him.
Though Anand, as Abhaydatta’s apprentice, held the healer in the greatest esteem, right now he was angry with him as well. If it weren’t for Abhaydatta, Anand wouldn’t be here, starving half to death, and probably coming down with a terrible cold, too. His head felt like it was stuffed with wool, and the sounds he heard were distorted and indistinct, as though reaching him from very far away. Anand was partially to blame for the situation in which he found himself, but when this unpleasant thought pricked at his conscience, he pushed it away.
I’ll wait until the lamp burns out, he thought. Then I’ll go back down to the Silver Valley, where I’ll have to tell Abhaydatta that I failed.
He sat down on the clammy, uncomfortably sharp rocks just inside the entrance to the cave, crouching a little, for he’d grown a great deal in the last year since he turned fifteen and wasn’t yet used to his height. From this vantage point he scanned the hillside for the hermit, though his hopes were not high. He drew his yellow wool tunic, the one that all apprentices wore, closer and pushed his long hair away from his eyes. The despondence that tormented him today was unusual for him. Generally he was cheerful and responsible, much liked by the healers. His fellow apprentices liked him, too, though they sometimes complained that he took the world too seriously. But mostly they held him in awe because he held a special position in the Brotherhood. He was keeper of the magical conch from which the healers drew their power, and the only one with whom the conch communicated. Anand, however, was rather modest and did not consider himself special. If anything, he had many doubts about his abilities – and all of them seemed to have surfaced today.
After four days of harsh winds and sleet, it was finally bright outside, the sun shining on piles of snow. It was still cold – but then, up this high in the Himalayas, it was always cold, except in the Silver Valley, where right now Anand’s schoolmates would be sitting down to a hot, savoury lunch. Gloom descended on him as he imagined their meal. On Tuesdays – today was Tuesday, wasn’t it? – the cooks served a hearty rice-and-lentil stew filled with fresh vegetables grown in the valley, with fried potatoes on the side. His stomach growled as he imagined biting into a succulent, spicy potato. Then his appetite ebbed. How would Abhaydatta react to his failure – and to his disobedience, for he had given Anand strict instructions to return to the valley yesterday? Abhaydatta wasn’t given to ranting. He would probably stride away, lips clamped together in disappointment. But some of the other apprentices were sure to make fun of Anand.
Anand did not know that none of the things he dreaded was going to happen, that something far worse was waiting for him in the valley.
>
Five days ago. That was when it had all started.
Anand had been in the middle of a lesson with Master Mihirdatta, the healer who specialized in Transformation, a skill that allowed a healer to examine the very essence of objects and change the whirling particles of energy that were at their core.
‘If you can focus your intellect enough to get down to the level of this energy in something, if you can feel its particular vibration, then you can change it when necessary to something else,’ Mihirdatta explained. ‘But it is an advanced skill even for those of you who are senior apprentices, and not to be undertaken lightly, for to change the essence of even the smallest object is dangerous and may have far-reaching consequences, either on the universe or on the healer.’ He gave the students a simple exercise: to change the palm leaf on which they were writing their notes into parchment.
Anand concentrated the way the healer had explained, closing his eyes, drifting into a state that could best be described as alert sleep, and trying to feel deep into the fabric of the leaf. Just when he felt as though the leaf was dissolving into a pool of rapidly moving pinpricks of light, he was distracted by the arrival of a messenger. It was Raj-bhanu, a friend of Anand’s. They had been on an adventure together when Raj-bhanu was a senior apprentice. He had recently graduated and had been given a junior healer’s robes. He bowed to Mihirdatta in apology for the interruption. However, he said, he had an urgent message from Abhaydatta. Anand was to meet him in the Hall of Seeing as soon as he finished this class.
This was highly unusual. The apprentices’ days followed a strict and – in Anand’s opinion – overly predictable routine. The other boys whispered among themselves, throwing Anand curious glances. Anand sat up very straight, his heart beating fast as he wondered why his mentor had summoned him. He knew it was important. Otherwise Abhaydatta would not have interrupted his lessons. He hoped it was something exciting.
Anand loved being part of the Brotherhood and learning the secret arts with which they aided the world. He knew how lucky he was to live here, in this sheltered valley with its winding paths lined by silver-barked parijat trees, its airy dormitories, and its magnificent Crystal Hall where the conch was housed. He felt especially fortunate to be keeper of the conch because he loved the tiny but immensely powerful shell more than he had ever thought he could love anything – or anyone. Still, it had been two years since his last adventure when, along with his best friend Nisha, he had travelled hundreds of years back to the court of Nawab Najib and saved his subjects from being destroyed by an evil jinn. He had been happy to return to the Brotherhood after having completed his task, and in the last couple of years he had learned many valuable skills. But he was ready for a new quest.
Distracted by all these thoughts, he bungled the Transformation he was attempting, turning his palm leaf, quite inexplicably, into a large and extremely blue turban. His classmates snickered, and Mihirdatta stared in disbelief.
‘However did you manage that? In all my years of teaching, I’ve never seen a student come up with that particular result. Ah, well! It’s obvious that you’ll be of no use until you’ve found out what Master Abhaydatta wants. You might as well go to him right now.’
Anand bowed gratefully, handed the turban to the apprentice next to him, and hurried to the door, almost tripping over a stool in the process. Mihirdatta shook his head, but Anand noticed a small smile playing on his lips as though he hadn’t forgotten what it was to be young and hungry for heroic exploits.
>
Anand ran all the way to the Hall of Seeing, a small, elegant building formed entirely out of intertwining trees with shining green-gray leaves. Pausing at the threshold to catch his breath, he could hear the murmur of voices inside. He had arrive