Iora and the Realm of Legends

By Arefa Tehsin

What if an evil character escaped into the real world?
Iora, Owlus, and Chinar, 12-year-olds now living in the rainforest school Gurukul, enter the realm where the rainforest legends and stories are kept. They must capture the Ghost of Echo, who has joined hands with Homo diabolus, to prevent an ancient prophecy from favouring the dark forces.
Will the three friends, along with their reluctant guide, The Laughing Boy Who Never Dies, be able to stop the deadly Ghost of Echo? Or will they be forever caught in the realm and become a legend themselves?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crimson Dragon Publishing
• Release date: Nov 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781944644420

Arefa Tehsin

Arefa Tehsin is the author of 16 fiction and non-fiction books, both for children and adults, and contributes columns, features and travel articles to various publications like The Indian Express, The Hindu, Deccan Herald, Outlook Money and TerraGreen. Her book The Chirmi Chasers has been shortlisted for Neev Book Award 2021. Amra and the Witch was shortlisted for FCCI’s Best Book of the Year Award 2019. She was shortlisted for the The Hindu Young World-Goodbooks Best Author Award 2017 for her book Wild in the Backyard (Publisher: Penguin Random House). The picture book The Elephant Bird was read at 3200+ locations in India from the slums to the Presidential library on the International Literacy Day, 2016 and translated in 30 languages. Do Tigers Drink Blood and 13 Other Mysteries of Nature is being translated in Chinese. A few schools in India and Sri Lanka have taken up her books as textbooks and supplementary readers. Daughter of the renowned naturalist Dr. Raza H. Tehsin, Arefa has spent her childhood days treading jungles with her father, exploring caves and handling snakes. She was appointed as the Honorary Wildlife Warden of Udaipur district and has pursued nature conservation through her writings and columns.

Book preview

Chapter 1

A few Ghosts of Yellow Leaves have come out of their underground caves to live in the jungle. Even the Head Hunters greeted them with open arms! said a little red frog-like man with a large head and huge bulging eyes.

My life was spent in vain. A tall bony man sat half-concealed in a dark corner of the hollow.

The slanting rays of the setting sun entered the large hollow situated high up in the trunk of an enormous fig tree. The tree stood on a steep slope of a mountain. From the valley surrounding it rose a thin layer of fog and hung around the waist of the mountain, shrouding it with mystery.

The sun sets but the jungle rises, the frog man chuckled.

"I’d give anything to rouse Homo diabolus again. The bony man scratched his head viciously. I was almost there … almost! I mobilised so many dark agents to aid Homo diabolus before that rare moonless night when the Animal Angel was at his weakest. After centuries! We could have overcome him and the other four Angels of Nature, one by one, gathered there to revive him. Last year could have seen the rise of Homo diabolus and his followers like me.

The wind moaned as another day died. Almost there, he repeated. "Had Iora, that pesky little Twitter, not realised that she was the Spirit of the Jungle and helped the Angels complete their Circle of Life at the last moment! That revived the Animal Angel and Homo diabolus had to retreat. All my hard work in vain …"

A squirrel wandered inside the hollow. The frog man sat still watching it. It picked up a shoot and started nibbling. Waiting for the right moment, the frog man brought down his webbed hand that contained sucker-like appendages on the squirrel. A squeak escaped and its furry tail twitched before the squirrel was turned into a brittle piece of bones and skin. He threw it on the floor after draining it of all its substance.

What a stale substitute. Nothing like fresh juicy children. I don’t even feel like swallowing it. He looked up at the tall, bony man sitting on the other side of the cave and winced. Don’t look so miserable! I lose my appetite seeing you.

What do you expect, Yara-ma-yha-who? The bony man spat. "I spend a lifetime planning the rise of Homo diabolus and then what happens?"

The world has not ended! You can wait for another Angel to complete the cycle. Yara-ma-yha-who curled his thick frog-like lips.

The bony man laughed aloud. That will take hundreds of years. You think I’ll live that long?

Nah … you’re old and skinny, said Yara-ma-yha-who with disgust, closing and opening the suckers in his webbed hands and feet. You won’t live that long.

Chiiiiiiiiik … A shrill shriek from a hawk sitting near the bony man echoed in the hollow.

Yara-ma-yha-who closed the small ears on his oversized head. Tell your bird to shut up or I’ll suck the life out of him.

"I think he’s telling you to shut up in Hawkish since it can’t speak Jungly." The bony man patted the hawk fondly.

"Oh yeah, you take refuge in my home and you’re telling me what to do!" Yara-ma-yha-who had a toothless grin.

Let’s not start a fight here. The bony man rubbed his knee. "Don’t forget we’re both loyal servants of Homo diabolus. Let’s just try to find a way to bring him to power. Yaya the Spirit and Chirkut are gone. The Rainbow Death Snake was killed.

There are so many other followers like me, Yara-ma-yha-who offered.

"But none is powerful right now. The powerful ones are guarding Homo diabolus. He’s vulnerable. They can’t be called for help at this moment."

I’ve heard of fierce and strong creatures, but they’re only legends. Pop-pop-pop … the suckers on the frog man’s fingertips opened and closed in a hungry rhythm.

Stories … not from the real world … pondered the bony man.

In the real world, we have bony juiceless followers like you. Yara-ma-yha-who’s chuckle was the glug-glug of a drain.

Chiiiiiiiiik … The hawk again let out a shrill cry that echoed in the hollow of the tree.

Tell your damned bird I’ll pluck his last feathers! Yara-ma-yha-who covered his ears.

Echo … Stories … Legends … hmmm … what was that … The Ghost of Echo! The bony man straightened up.

What?

You illiterate sucker! The bony man glowered. Haven’t you heard the legend of the Ghost of Echo?

No … I happen to be quite young, old grouch. My time hasn’t come to learn stories for my great-grandchildren.

Fool! The tall man began to knead his knuckles. The Ghost of Echo can create an echo — a replica of anyone in the wilder lands. The story goes that the Ghost, wandering in the wilds, and unaware of its powers, unknowingly created an echo of the Water Angel and raised the waters of the rainforest rivers. Half of the jungle drowned in it! What if he’s brought out in the real world?

What then, do you want to drown the jungle again? I can hide up in my fig tree, but what will happen to you? Yara-ma-yha-who looked confused.

If the Ghost of Echo can escape, we can create a dark echo of the strongest of Angels! It will be an alternate dark Angel with the same powers! The bony man got a glassy sheen his eyes.

You mean … but he must be locked in one of the Realms of Legends.

You can lock the body, but you can’t lock the mind. On the edge of our consciousness live the stories. The bony man, pleased with himself, crawled to the mouth of the hollow.

Did I ever tell you that I hate riddles?

Well, it’s just about crossing that edge, the bony man went on. "Homo diabolus taught me how to make contact with the mind. Why can’t I try contacting a character in a story?"

Now that sounds interesting. You have some brain in your shriveled head, Kookaburra.

Iora … I’ll not let you ruin the mission of my life. Just wait till I strike you this time. Ha! Ha! Ha! Kookaburra’s cackle burst out of the sinister hollow and vanished into the dark foggy night.

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Chapter 2

If I have to carry on for one more week with this, I’ll run back to Twitterland! said Owlus, agitated and sweating.

You’ve missed some leaves there, nitwit, the long broom in his hands trilled.

You shut up or I’ll throw you in the fire with the dry leaves! Owlus fumed.

Thornbill and Hornbill were sweeping and collecting leaves, but they were more interested in upsetting the piles collected by others. Thornbill’s missing teeth had grown since last year and he didn’t fail to flash a smile.

They upturned Owlus’ pile as he turned his back on it.

Now, who’s the wise guy! Owlus looked menacingly at Thornbill, who stood chuckling.

The avenue they were cleaning was lined with thick-canopied trees laden with white flowers. At the end of the avenue a heap of large boulders, placed precariously one above the other, leaned on the slope of a hill. A little to the right flowering vines surrounded a frothy waterfall that cascaded into a pool, which divided into two streams. One stream passed through vegetable gardens and fruit orchards, disappearing inside a marsh, which extended for a considerable distance. The jungle was thick on the other side of the marsh. The other stream disappeared under the heap of boulders. There was a small, secluded cave just before the marsh at the deep end of the orchards. The roots of a towering tree covered the cave.

Iora had finished her patch and was standing with Owlus’ elder sister Fowlus.

Can you believe it’s been a month since we came to Gurukul? said Iora, braiding the long curly hair that tumbled down her shoulders.

Fab, isn’t it? You know, I’d never stepped out of Twitterland before. And I love these bark and leather clothes! Fowlus grinned.

Owlus walked towards them. He hadn’t finished sweeping his patch. Clean up in the morning, attend lessons, collect firewood in the afternoon. What’s fab about that, huh?

Well, don’t forget the games we play in the evening and the exciting creatures we meet in the jungle excursions, countered Fowlus.

A faint cry came with the wind from the direction of the secluded cave.

There’s so much that we don’t know about Gurukul. Owlus looked around dubiously.

One-legged ape-men called Bottle Foots were hopping about the vegetable garden. Their footprints left tracks that looked like the bottom of a bottle. In each such hole made by the tracks, seven-foot-long Tatzelwurms were planting seeds with their two stubby hands.

To the east of Gurukul adjoining the marsh was Pierced Patch--a dry and impenetrable thorny jungle. Huge thorns protruded in all directions, making it a labyrinth of needles.

Beyond the Pierced Patch, the marsh, waterfall, and boulder mound, heavily wooded mountains surrounded Gurukul, making it difficult to enter or leave from any side. Only one path went to the outside jungle. Two giants Homo gigantis sat on guard there.

Yeah, for instance that mound of boulders. Or that secluded cave in the orchards. Iora swung her braid to the back.

I thought I’d find at least one tree in Gurukul who could speak Jungly. But the trees are all silent, Fowlus complained.

The trees are silent even in the outer forest, Fowlus, said Iora. Talking trees are rare. We just have one in Twitterland.

Here only the brooms do all the talking! Owlus threw his straight hair off his eyes. Aren’t we supposed to know a bit more about the place we have to spend five years in? He left his broom leaning on a tree trunk. It wiggled to make itself comfortable before dozing off.

Fowlus’s face crumpled. No Twitterland for five years … I miss home so much. I wish Guru had taken a batch of Agogwes this year instead of us, the Twitters.

Seriously, Fowlus? A minute back you were calling it fab! Just think, our parents were also taught by Naga Guru! Owlus moved his straight hair away from his eyes. I am glad he hasn’t retired, and we don’t have a young guru … Ouch?

A long stick hit him on his backside. They turned around to see an ancient woman wrapped in a brown woven cloth and bent double. She held a long, crooked stick, with which she had poked Owlus. The stick started shrinking. When it was the length of a staff, she put it back on the ground and leaned heavily on it. The old woman looked tall in spite of the bent back.

What was that for? asked Owlus, rubbing his backside.

Don’t show me that attitude or I’ll hang you from the top of the Observatory Tree, she said softly, pointing her stick at a tree standing in the middle of Gurukul. It was so tall that they could barely see its top even from a distance.

Why haven’t you finished your work? She went on in a low voice, looking at the scattered leaves.

The broom leaning on the tree let out a snore and Iora giggled. The old woman fixed her with tiny eyes set in deep sockets.

You, Twitter, are not special just because you’re the Spirit of the Jungle. I’ve seen many spirits come and go. Next time you do not show respect, you will be cleaning the entire Gurukul by yourself.

She looked at everyone with a healthy amount of distrust. Guru is waiting for you to start the lessons. Go there right away. And you … She turned to Owlus. … finish the work and then show yourself.

Owlus murmured under his breath . Once she left with the students, he resumed his work and was done in a short while.

He proceeded towards the open patch mumbling, This relic of the Stone Age needs to be told that I am the Chieftain’s son! He lifted a flower of a pitcher plant and drank the water stored in it. Guru’s voice trailed from a distance amid the chitter-chatter of birds.

… what you need to survive in a rainforest is skill, agility, and knowledge of creatures. Who’ll tell me the basic survival tips? Hornbill. A dwarf with long white hair sat on a mud platform below a shady banyan tree. A black snake was coiled around his white beard. A flock of brightly coloured macaws perched on the banyan tree kept dropping bits of fruits while nibbling on them.

Well, ahem … Hornbill ran his tongue over his buck teeth. The basic is to know where to get fresh water — such as cisterns in tree trunks, water storing lianas and pitcher plants — and what to eat.

That’s right, said Guru. And what to avoid eating at all costs. I’ll elaborate on that tomorrow on our jungle trip. Today, I want you to meet a fellow Gurukul dweller, whom you’ve not met as yet.

Twitter students sat around the tree, listening attentively.

Guru turned his grey eyes towards Owlus trying to sneak in. It seems you were detained, Owlus.

Yes, Guru.

Well, then, sit down. We’ve just started our class.

A short, stout woman hurried towards them from a hut at the end of the clearing. Owlus, you missed your breadfruit soup. She placed a half coconut shell before him.

She went fluttering back to the thatched hut, outside which there were large earthen pots and pans. There was a small pond shadowed by a tree behind the hut from where water was drawn for kitchen needs. A little away from the kitchen hut there stood four large banyan trees with hanging roots. One rustic hut was perched on the sprawling branches of each tree.

Owlus called after her, Thank you, Gurumayi!

She was Guru’s wife.

Finish it, Owlus. We have to meet someone, said Guru getting up.

Once Owlus had finished, Guru led them to the waterfall and its glistening pool. He was no taller than the students and his long white hair trailed on the ground behind him. The students eyed the snake in his beard with apprehension.

On the fringe of the pond were a few pink and purple water lilies and soft grass on its banks. Droplets from the waterfall sprayed their faces. There was the smell of water all around.

I understand you’re all quite fond of this waterfall. I’ve seen some of you swimming or playing around it. Today, I want to introduce you to the resident of your favourite pond. Guru turned towards the pool. Are you there, Lau?

As the students stood there expectantly, large ripples surfaced on the water. From the depths of the pool rose a hairy head bearing the mane of a lion. As it slowly rose, it was followed by a yellowish-green scaly body of an enormous snake. The creature roared and his deep throaty cry echoed in the surrounding hills.

This, students, is Lau--the Water Lion.

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