The Place of Dead Kings

by Geoffrey Wilson

  There was nothing good about killing a man. Even a man like Wulfric. Jack wasn’t proud or pleased. He just felt numb and dazed.

  He lurched up, stuck the knife in his belt and grasped the scimitar. He yanked and wriggled it until the blade finally came free.

  Good. At least he had a better weapon now.

  He looked up the slope and saw the gouges in the earth where he and Wulfric had slid downhill.

  There was no sign of Saleem.

  It was good that the lad had kept running, but it was going to be difficult to find him now. He went to shout Saleem’s name but then paused. The gully had gone silent. He no longer heard cries, musket shots or pipes, only the distant gurgling of the river.

  Strange.

  Then he noticed voices off to his right. It sounded like several men talking.

  Someone suddenly cried out, ‘No.’

  Jack went cold and the ground seemed to drop an inch. That last voice was unmistakeable.

  Saleem.

  Jack gave an involuntary hiss and struck off through the mist in the direction of Saleem’s cry. The sound hadn’t come from further up the slope, but instead almost at the same level as him.

  He went as quickly as he could, but at the same time tried to make as little sound as possible. In an instant he was an army scout and a tracker once again. His feet found the stable spots of ground and avoided the twigs and loose stones. All his senses quivered into life and he took in every tree branch and shrub about him, searching for the telltale signs of movement.

  After about a minute he heard the voices again, but this time they came from below. He crouched and concentrated on the sound. There were three men – or was it four? And they were speaking in the strange tongue of the savages.

  Saleem gave another muffled shout.

  The lad was still alive. Thank God.

  Jack stared hard into the mist, but couldn’t see further than forty feet at the most.

  He set off down the hill. The voices grew louder and now he could also hear the crunch of the men stepping on leaves. They were close, perhaps only sixty feet away.

  His breath shivered and his heart trembled. He couldn’t make a mistake now, couldn’t make a sound. He didn’t have a plan yet, but whatever he did, the element of surprise would be key. He flexed his fingers around the scimitar’s grip, his palms so wet with sweat he was worried he’d drop the weapon.

  He paused for a second and took a deep breath.

  He had to get himself under control. How many times had he crept up on enemy forces when he was in the army? Countless times. So why was he faltering now? He had to focus, just like the old days. Fears about Saleem might be coursing through his head, but he had to block these out.

  Your mind is a rippling pool. Still it.

  Now he heard more voices. The men seemed to have met further savages and were speaking rapidly to them.

  He crept downhill, crouching and trying to stay behind the thickest clumps of undergrowth. Within a few seconds the mist parted enough for him to see the silhouettes of around twenty figures standing at the bottom of the hill. He froze, ducked behind a thorn bush and strained to make the men out more clearly.

  Most of them were savages – he could tell by the distinctive shape of their long cloaks. But with them were three other men who wore tunics and trousers, and a further figure who was on his knees.

  Jack tightened his grip on the scimitar. He sneaked further down the slope in order to get a better look. He stepped on a pile of leaves and winced at the loud crackle they made. But none of the savages reacted – they were too busy talking amongst themselves.

  On Jack stalked. One step at a time. Slowly. Cautiously.

  Then he trod on something soft and heard a yelp beneath him. His heart jumped and he leapt back, doing his best to stifle a gasp.

  For a second he had the strange thought that he’d stepped on a dog. But when he looked down he saw the truth.

  Cowering in the undergrowth, pointing a pistol up at Jack, was Captain Rao.

  Jack blinked a few times. What the hell was the Captain doing here?

  Rao’s hand shook as he held the pistol, sweat beaded on his forehead and there was a look of almost comical terror on his face. His chest was going up and down so rapidly Jack thought he might pass out.

  ‘It’s me,’ Jack hissed. ‘Put the pistol down.’

  Rao frowned and raised his other hand to help steady the weapon.

  ‘For Christ’s sake.’ Jack squatted down. Rao didn’t look as though he were about to shoot. He didn’t look capable of doing anything at that moment. Jack decided to ignore the pistol for the time being and nodded at the figures down the hill. ‘What’s going on?’

  Rao kept the firearm trained on Jack. His eyes quivered. He frowned, went to speak and then closed his mouth again. He gripped the pistol tighter, gritted his teeth and finally lowered the weapon. ‘They’ve got Lieutenant Parihar.’

  Jack parted the branches of a bush and peered down. He was close enough now to make out the figures at the bottom of the hill. Fifteen savages stood in a group. Beside them were two Saxon soldiers and Parihar, who all had their hands tied behind their backs. Saleem was kneeling on the ground, his hands also bound. Jack could see the lad’s ginger hair and beard clearly.

  Saleem.

  Jack felt dizzy for a moment, but quickly pulled himself together.

  He studied the savages more closely. They carried spears and bows, and wore the usual shaggy cloaks and tunics. But they all bore the white skull emblem on their chests. Jack was also surprised to see that one of them, a giant with black hair tied in a topknot, had a longsword at his side and a chain-mail shirt under his cloak. Over the chain mail he wore a black surcoat, on which was also emblazoned the white skull.

  ‘Where’s everyone else from our party?’ Jack whispered.

  ‘Everyone else?’ Rao’s eyes shone wildly. ‘They’re all dead.’

  Christ. ‘All of them?’

  Rao nodded. ‘I think so. I saw many fall.’

  Jack tightened his jaw. There might still be a few survivors hiding like him and Rao. But it didn’t sound as though there could be many. ‘My friend’s down there too. We have to free them.’

  ‘Free them?’ Rao’s eyes widened even further. He wrenched out a perfumed handkerchief, pressed it to his nose and inhaled.

  ‘We can’t just sit here.’

  ‘But there must be hundreds of them down there.’

  Jack cast his eye about the gully but couldn’t see far in the mist. He made out more savages standing near the edge of the pool and noticed flickers of movement further away.

  Hundreds? That could well be right. The savages wouldn’t have risked attacking unless they had sufficient numbers.

  Jack’s eyes fell upon Saleem again. He couldn’t see the lad’s face, but he could imagine the sorry expression that must be on it.

  What should he do? Rao had a pistol but no scimitar. He had a scimitar, but couldn’t risk taking the time to clean and dry his own firearm. There were only two of them, against fifteen savages. And as soon as he and Rao attacked, the rest of the horde would fall upon them.

  But what else could they do but attack?

  They would have to creep down the slope. Then, when they were close enough, Rao would shoot as many savages as he could, while Jack would rush at them with the scimitar and free the captives. Then they would all have to run up the hill as quickly as they could and hope for the best.

  Would that work?

  Probably not.

  Jack glanced at Rao. The Captain was so jumpy Jack wasn’t sure that he would be able to shoot straight. Had he ever even shot anyone before?

  Rao drew another deep breath through his handkerchief and whimpered. ‘Look, they’re moving.’

  What? Jack pushed aside the leaves in front of him. The savages had been joined by about thirty more of their tribe. The new arrivals had been collecting Saxon muskets and now carried them on their backs in bundles, l
ike firewood gathered from a forest.

  Saleem was standing, and the savages were pushing him, Parihar and the two Saxons forward. The group began jogging off up the valley. A stream of further savages followed. Jack couldn’t tell exactly how large the party was, but scores of men swept past immediately below and he could see the faint trace of many others moving across the floor of the gully.

  Pipes wailed somewhere and several savages gave wild cries.

  Jack shivered slightly.

  The savages were leaving.

  And they were taking Saleem with them.

  PART THREE

  13

  Jack sat back against an oak. The mist swirled between the black trees in every direction he looked. He felt as though the breath had been knocked out of him.

  How was he going to free Saleem now?

  ‘Where are they taking them?’ Rao whispered.

  ‘Not sure.’ Jack tapped the pommel of the scimitar. ‘I could make a guess, though. You notice the emblem they were wearing on their chests?’

  ‘A skull or something like that.’

  ‘Didn’t that old chief tell us that was Mahajan’s sign?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘At the ruined castle. When the natives came down the hill.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Rao lowered his handkerchief. ‘I remember now. He said Mahajan’s men were killers who were attacking the lands around Mar.’ Rao’s eyes widened and he stared at Jack. ‘Then we’re close to Mar.’

  ‘Looks that way.’

  Rao narrowed his eyes and looked downhill. ‘You think they’re taking Parihar and the others to Mahajan?’

  ‘Could be. If they’re not going to kill them first.’

  Rao shot a look at Jack, then frowned and tightened his grip on the pistol.

  Jack shut his eyes for a second. What to do? He didn’t care about Parihar, didn’t even care about the Saxon soldiers. But he couldn’t abandon Saleem. And he wouldn’t give up on finding Mahajan. The crusaders in Shropshire were counting on him succeeding.

  Elizabeth was counting on him.

  He sat forward again. ‘We’ll follow the savages and wait for a chance to free our comrades.’

  Rao frowned. ‘Follow them?’

  ‘What else can we do?’

  Rao licked his lips. ‘We’ll go back to Dun Fries. Get help there.’

  ‘Dun Fries? That’ll take weeks.’

  Rao’s cheeks flushed. ‘Now, see here. I’m in charge of this expedition. You must do as I say.’

  Jack felt his face grow hot. Do as I say? Did Rao really think he could order him around now? By rights, Jack should punch the Captain in the face and leave him there.

  But instead he took a deep breath and calmed himself. There was no point in the two of them fighting at the moment. They had to work together.

  ‘Listen,’ Jack said. ‘Our friends could be killed. We can’t waste time going all the way to Dun Fries. We have to do something now.’

  Rao stared into space, his nostrils flaring and his eyes glistening. Finally, he said, ‘All right. We’ll follow them. But you’ll do as I say, you understand?’

  Christ. Jack felt his face getting hot again. He gritted his teeth and said slowly, ‘As you wish.’

  ‘Sir.’ Rao fixed his gaze on Jack. ‘As you wish, sir.’

  Jack took another deep breath. ‘Don’t push your luck, sir.’

  They crept through the trees and down to the floor of the gully. By now all the savages had left, but corpses lay scattered across the ground and the groans of the dying drifted through the mist. A Saxon coughed, moaned and tried to drag himself across the rocks beside the pool. But he couldn’t get far and collapsed again after a few seconds.

  Rao grimaced and put his handkerchief to his nose.

  To Jack’s left, the numerous tracks of the savages stood out in the soft ground and led off up the gully. Jack wanted to follow the trail as soon as possible, but he also wanted to make sure he and Rao were properly armed.

  He glanced at the Captain. And now he noticed that Rao still had Atri’s satchel hanging from his shoulder. The Captain had lost his scimitar, but had made sure he kept Atri’s notes. Interesting.

  ‘You got any more bullets?’ Jack asked.

  ‘With my horse.’

  ‘Better get them. And any other weapons you can find.’

  Rao nodded and set off around the side of the pool. Jack scoured the bottom of the gully for muskets. He trod around bodies and looked under discarded knapsacks, blankets and canvas sheets. All the while, the thought of Saleem beat insistently in his head.

  He saw at least thirty dead Saxons, but many more savages – perhaps three hundred. In some places the natives lay piled on top of each other, no doubt having been killed in droves by the firearms.

  But he found no muskets. The savages appeared to have taken them all. Did they know how to use them?

  After a couple of minutes, he gave up and instead grabbed a knapsack. He tipped out the contents and stuffed a box of matches and a bag of army biscuits back in. He found a water canteen and a couple of blankets and shoved these in too. Finally, he transferred the pistol, powder flask and other equipment from his wet satchel to the knapsack.

  As he swung the bag on to his back, he heard a groan nearby. He looked around and saw a Saxon slumped under a tree. The man’s stomach was a red mess and his skin was pale and covered in sweat.

  ‘Water,’ the Saxon said hoarsely.

  Jack spotted a canteen on the ground and carried it over to the soldier. As he approached, he almost choked on the stench of excrement. The man’s bowels must have been cut open. He handed over the canteen and the man nodded in thanks. Jack wished there was something more he could do to help, but there was no chance of the Saxon surviving.

  ‘Good luck,’ Jack said, then jogged back to the other side of the gully.

  Rao stood beside the pool, staring at the floating bodies.

  ‘Find anything?’ Jack asked.

  ‘No.’ Rao looked up. His face was stiff and his eyes were raw. ‘They’re all dead. Officers, batmen, soldiers. Even the horses have been slaughtered.’

  Jack understood what Rao must be feeling. But all the same, they didn’t have time to stand about talking. ‘How many bullets do you have left?’

  Rao waved his pistol. ‘Just the six in here.’

  ‘Right. I’ve got eighteen. That’ll have to do.’

  Rao stared glumly at his pistol. ‘We’re going to fight hundreds of savages with this?’

  ‘Not just that.’ Jack fished his own pistol out of the knapsack. ‘Got this too.’

  Rao frowned. ‘Where did you get that?’ He then stared at the bloody scimitar stuck in Jack’s belt, seeming to only notice it for the first time. His eyes widened. ‘And that? That’s an officer’s blade.’

  ‘Calm down.’ Jack hurriedly put away the firearm. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to show it to Rao. ‘The pistol belonged to my father. He was in the army.’ He patted the scimitar. ‘This I just found on the ground.’

  Rao looked at Jack sideways, pursed his lips and finally said, ‘I see. Shouldn’t you at least clean that blade?’

  ‘No time. We have to go now.’

  Rao searched Jack’s face for a moment. Then he relaxed his shoulders and slid his pistol into its holster. ‘Very well. Let’s go.’

  They ran up the gully, leaving the pool, the dead and the dying behind. The knapsack bounced on Jack’s back but he barely noticed it – in the army he’d marched for days and even fought with a knapsack on his back. The scimitar swung at his side and the knife was still tucked into his belt.

  He glanced at Rao. The Captain ran stiffly, as if he were trying to maintain some level of decorum. His overcoat was unbuttoned and flapped open at times to reveal his blue uniform beneath.

  The savages’ footprints were easy to make out in the black soil and their rough hide shoes left distinctive markings. Their tracks were spread out across the ground – they hadn’t been
running in any kind of formation.

  After half an hour, Jack and Rao reached the head of the gully and scrambled up a bare slope. The mist began to clear and the surrounding hills came into focus.

  Rao fell behind and Jack paused beside a rock to wait for him. The Captain was sweating and panting heavily by the time he caught up. He slung off Atri’s satchel, slipped off his coat and bent double, trying to catch his breath.

  Jack pulled out the water canteen, took a swig and offered it to Rao. ‘Here.’

  Rao raised his head and frowned, his chest still heaving.

  Jack waggled the canteen. ‘Go on.’

  Rao swallowed and licked his lips, but still didn’t reach for the canteen.

  Then Jack understood. Of course. He’d been away from Rajthanans for so long he’d forgotten. ‘I see. Don’t want to share water with me.’

  Rao’s eyes flickered. ‘You’re an insolent native.’

  Jack snorted, looked away and took another gulp of water. ‘Up to you.’

  Rao hesitated, then grasped the canteen out of Jack’s hand, wiped the opening with his sleeve and drank by pouring the water through the air to purify it. He didn’t let his lips touch the container. He drank for several seconds, taking large gulps so that his Adam’s apple rolled in his neck.

  ‘Calm down,’ Jack said. ‘Don’t drink it all.’

  Rao handed back the canteen. He glared at Jack but didn’t say anything further.

  They pressed on up the incline. When he reached the summit, Jack stopped again to let Rao catch up. He peered down the far side of the hill and saw a slope descending to a wide valley. Shreds of mist still floated about the valley floor, but he could see patches of the ground beyond.

  Suddenly he drew his breath in sharply. He could make out the black specks of the savages charging up the valley. There looked to be four hundred of them at least.

  He shrank behind a knoll. Rao was still toiling up the slope and Jack waved for him to keep his head down. Rao stooped, ran up the last few feet and flopped down beside Jack. He panted, winced and pressed his hand to his side.

  Jack pointed over the knoll. ‘They’re in the next valley. If we go down now they’ll see us.’