ASH MISTRY AND THE CITY OF DEATH

by Sarwat Chadda

  He hit the river bottom and rolled in the mud upon the stones, some small and others the size of boulders. He blinked the mud from his eyes and saw the metal object three metres away. It was the rusty skeleton of a motorised rickshaw, half submerged in the bank. The cloth canopy had long since disintegrated and the front wheel had sheared off. It was this, half buried in the mud, that Ash wanted.

  Oh God, he had to breathe! Lungs and chest aching, he could barely think; his head felt fat and swollen in agony. His jaw throbbed as he locked it shut.

  He twisted his arms and something creaked. Even with his ears filled with the raging waters, he heard, he felt, the monkey’s left arm give. The impact with the plinth must have cracked the loha-mukha’s arm, weakening it. Driven insane with desperation, Ash pulled and shoved, not caring if he broke his own arm, needing to get out. The stone groaned as he worked his entire torso from side to side. The monkey’s arm began to give way. It was a battle now, Ash’s body both his saviour and his enemy. If he could just hold his breath a few seconds longer… but the more he struggled, the more he wanted to open his mouth; instinct fought will.

  The monkey’s arm bent. It snapped.

  Left arm free, Ash pushed and stretched towards the wheel rim jutting out of the mud. He leaned as far as he could, kicking the water with his heels to tilt him another couple of centimetres. If he could just reach it…

  His first two fingers scratched the rim, and that was enough.

  Ash dragged the rim closer, pulling against the muddy grip. It was about a foot in diameter, a heavy steel circular disc weighing about fifteen pounds. The edge wasn’t particularly sharp, but it was all he had.

  Bubbles slipped from his lips. He couldn’t hold on much longer.

  Ash lifted it up with his left hand and swung it as hard as he could through the water against the monkey’s right arm, aiming at the fingers.

  The blow glanced off, barely chipping it.

  Oh God, he couldn’t do it. More bubbles burst out, and Ash’s arms and legs felt heavier than the monkey now. He struggled to lift the disc.

  Concentrate. Concentrate. He glared at the thick fingers that held him trapped. His own tightened round the heavy steel disc.

  Ash rammed the disc against the monkey’s hand. Its fingers shattered as the last of Ash’s breath tore free in a burst of bubbles. He dropped the disc and pushed. He pressed his heels against the inanimate stone, heaved with his left hand, and twisted his body as far as it would go. The jagged edges of the broken limb dug into his belly, tearing deeper into his flesh the harder he struggled. Blood, black and cloudy, swelled from the tears. He didn’t care.

  Ash spasmed as his body began to give up. His will, his heart raged, but he wasn’t strong enough.

  Savage wins.

  No. That could never happen.

  The thought pushed him harder, beyond the madness of this fight. Beyond the dark river and the mud and the bubbles disappearing above him.

  Another centimetre. That was all there was between him and Savage. It came down to a distance shorter than a fingernail. If he couldn’t get that much further, Savage would have won.

  Not in this universe.

  The monkey’s fractured hand snapped, and Ash kicked free.

  Thrashing upward, his neck stretched as far as it would go, Ash kicked and flailed towards the surging surface, eyes locked on the undulating patterns of moonlight above him. The current, still strong, carried him three metres downstream for every one he rose. His arms felt like lead, and each stroke took double the effort of the last. His legs barely kicked now. The surface seemed miles away.

  He gave up. His arms sank to his side, slowly, and his feet dangled loose and powerless in the flowing water.

  Then someone touched his shoulder. Long, stiff fingers caressed his hand and Ash snapped hold. He locked his hands round the extended limb and pulled.

  He gasped and swallowed as he rose free of the water. Then he looked for his rescuer. No, not someone, he realised – the branch of a tree, leaning over the water’s surface, its tips submerged. It had been the twigs he’d felt on his back.

  His heart pounded with joy and fear. He’d come so close, so close. Every part of him quivered with exhaustion, but Ash heaved himself up the branch until only his legs dangled in the river. Then, clumsy as a snail, he slid along on his belly, wincing as the twigs and stubs poked him. Eventually he dropped down along the marshy edge of the river. The bridge was a quarter of a mile away and dark. Savage was gone. Shivering, aching, bleeding, puking river water, Ash waded the last few metres and crawled up the muddy bank.

  C’mon, the hard bit’s over.

  Savage was on his way to get the Koh-i-noor. Ash had to warn Parvati. Not only did she have no idea Savage was coming with an army of indestructible statues, but her deadly bite was useless against the loha-mukhas, and Khan’s claws would snap on their impenetrable skin. If he didn’t get going, Parvati and her rakshasas would be slaughtered. Ash couldn’t let that happen, not when they’d parted the way they had.

  I have to get back. Warn Parvati that Savage is coming with an army of stone.

  But as he crawled through the long grass, Ash collapsed into the wet earth and knew no more.

  e looked like one of the kids that clogged the streets of Kolkata, begging at traffic lights or waiting at hotels and posh restaurants for tourists. Ash didn’t care. Covered in dirt and dressed in rags, he headed back to the city by hanging on to the back of a truck as it rattled along the road with the rickshaws and bullock carts.

  How long had he been unconscious? He wasn’t sure. A day at least. It was evening by the time he reached the outskirts of Kolkata. He’d managed to beg some bananas and a chapatti, but still shivered with fever. His dip in the river had been almost too much. He closed his eyes.

  I want to go home. There, he’d admitted it. He wanted to see his mum and dad, see Lucky. He’d thought he was tougher. He’d thought he couldn’t be beaten, now that he was the Kali-aastra. Savage had shown him the error of his arrogance. Whatever move he made, Savage countered. Last night had almost been checkmate. And next time?

  But he couldn’t leave Parvati. He needed to see her, know she was OK, and make everything good between them.

  Thunder rumbled overhead and the clouds, black and fat, hung over the city, ready to burst. The downpour hit just as Ash turned the corner into the English Cemetery.

  Something was wrong. Police vans blocked the road and there were crowds gathered at the cemetery gates. People had gathered round a massive hole in the cemetery wall. Piles of rubble lay scattered on the street, over the tombs, and in the undergrowth. Khaki-uniformed policemen held the gawkers back with their long wooden staves, and a lemonade maker had set up his stall beside the broken masonry.

  Ash pulled at a man’s sleeve.

  “Excuse me, but what happened?”

  The man scowled as he looked down at Ash, who was filthy with mud and dust and his clothing in tatters. He brushed his sleeve off, and his hand went to protect his wallet in his pocket. “Begone, boy.”

  “What happened?” Ash said, with more than a little firmness, a little more anger.

  The man looked down again and took a step back. He touched his neck as if Ash was about to wrap his fingers round it, and swallowed. “No one knows. It happened last night. They say some beggars have been killed.”

  “Beggars?”

  “Beggars who were using the graveyard for shelter. One of the big mausoleums has been vandalised.”

  “Whose?”

  “The old Company president. Cornish or something.”

  “Cornwall?”

  The man nodded.

  Ash ran round the back of the graveyard and sneaked over the wall. All around him were shattered gravestones, torn-up trees and demolished tombs. The mausoleum Parvati had used as her headquarters, and as the hiding place for the Koh-i-noor, was nothing but rubble. The domed roof had been smashed in. The bronze doors themselves lay twisted and buckled i
n the grass five metres away. The surrounding trees were snapped in half, as if something huge, unyielding and incredibly strong had just marched straight through them. The grass and earth were a mess of heavy footprints. Some were way too large and too deep for normal humans.

  Savage and his loha-mukhas had struck hard.

  Then, on the edge of his hearing, Ash picked up a quiet step. Someone else was hiding here. The bough of the branch above creaked with the weight of a body.

  Ash jumped. Ploughing through the branches and curtain of leaves, he grabbed the scruff of a neck and pulled the figure down with him, throwing him to the ground. Then he saw the frightened face.

  “John?” Ash whispered. “What are you doing here?”

  “Where else could I go?” The boy stared up at him. John was scared, but his big eyes hardened with defiance. “Are you going to kill me now?”

  Something black and angry stirred inside Ash as he loomed over John. He had betrayed him and given Savage the Koh-i-noor. What would Kali want? What would Ujba tell him to do? That was easy. But that wasn’t going to happen.

  “You put your family first. Who can blame you for that?” said Ash.

  “You’re not going to kill me? What about what you said at the cantonment?”

  “I had to call Savage’s bluff. I needed him to believe I wanted you dead to absorb your death energies. Sorry if I scared you, but it was the only plan I had.” He held out his hand. “Get up, mate.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “So am I, John.” He really was. John had been desperate, and Ash knew what that was like. There’d been a breakfast, not so long ago, where Savage had promised Ash and his sister freedom in exchange for the Kali-aastra. Ash had given it to him almost immediately when Savage threatened to kill Lucky. He’d handed over the most dangerous weapon in the world to save his sister. John’s crime was no bigger than his. Ash turned back to the broken mausoleum. “Savage and his loha-mukhas?”

  “Yes. I got here just before them. I thought maybe I could warn Parvati, but it all happened so fast. Savage just… appeared.”

  “Appeared how? In his trucks?”

  “No. Just like out of a cloud of smoke. Like a magician. He had his loha-mukhas with him.”

  “Then what?”

  “A big fight. Savage hung back and got the stone monsters to do all his dirty work. But there was more.” John tapped a fallen slab. “I saw him. He waved his hand and the tombstones just flew through the air. The big doors – he wasn’t even near them and they tore themselves off their hinges.”

  “What about Parvati? And Khan?”

  “They knew they couldn’t win. She went for the Koh-i-noor, but Savage practically dropped a tree on top of her.” John sighed. “My fault, Ash. I told Savage everything. Where you were, and where they’d hidden the diamond. It was all over in five minutes. He used his magic. It was unbelievable. He was all over the place.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, just ‘poof’.” John pointed at one corner. “One second he was there.” He pointed at another. “Then in an eye-blink, over there. He had his statues doing the same. How can you beat someone like that?”

  Teleporting. Savage had mastery over Space. That was a bad thing. “Do you know where Parvati is?”

  “I don’t know where any of them are. I’ve been here all day, but no one’s come back.” John glanced around. “What should we do? Wait here?”

  “No, we need to go after Savage.” He could wait for Parvati, but there was no guarantee she’d come back here; there was no reason to. Maybe she had gone to chase down Savage already.

  “We’ve no idea where he’s gone.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I saw a stamp on the crates he was using to carry some of his statues. It was for the Indian Railways and there was a number, 2841. You have any idea where that goes?”

  “Easy to find out. But what difference will that make? He’s got the rakshasas, the stone men, and now the Koh-i-noor,” said John. “There’s no way we can beat Savage.”

  “There’s always a way.”

  And Ash could think of one, but he didn’t like it.

  “’ve been waiting,” said Ujba.

  Only the spluttering light of mismatched candles opposed the gloomy darkness of the temple. Weird shadows drifted back and forth across the uneven walls – creeping phantoms and ghosts of victims past, trapped where their lives washed the altar. The statue of Kali was glossy red. Blood dripped from her face, into her open mouth and down her bare chest.

  “A sacrifice?” said Ash. “Anyone I know?”

  “Just a goat,” said Ujba.

  “Glad you could restrain yourself.”

  Ujba lit another candle. “So, you’ve failed. Again.”

  “You know what happened at the cemetery?”

  “Of course. I have as many spies here as I do in Varanasi.”

  “Then why didn’t you help find Savage? You could have stopped all this.”

  Ujba’s lips turned into a fierce frown. “I offered you my help and you rejected it. Why should I offer more?”

  “Is this where you say ‘I told you so’? Let me save you the effort. You were right; I was a fool. I can’t beat Savage, not as I am. I need more power.”

  “The Soma?”

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  Ash’s heart trembled as he watched Ujba nod. He’d thought the guru might say something, maybe even object because he’d rejected him earlier. But the guru acted as if this was all part of his plan. Like he knew Ash was always going to take the Soma.

  “This will show me how to fight? How to destroy anything?” Ash asked. If it worked, then Savage’s loha-mukhas would be no threat.

  “Do you know what Kali is?”

  “The goddess of death and destruction. What else is there?”

  “Kali means black, but the word also comes from Kala – time. Kali is the essence of time. Time is the ultimate force of destruction. Even the universe, in time, will end.”

  “And that helps me how?”

  “Parvati spoke to you about your past lives, I assume?”

  “I’ve even met a few.”

  “Once you have taken the Soma, you may step out of time yourself, according to the priests, but the effects vary.”

  “I can time travel?” Ash said. If he could do that, then he could repair all his mistakes. He could fix everything. Just hop back and save Gemma.

  “No. That is one of the sorceries, and that you will not be taught. No man should have that power. It is the path of fools. Even Ravana, though he knew how to travel back and forth through time, dared not use it. He understood that whichever path we take, it all leads to the same place.”

  “Then how will this Soma affect me?”

  Ujba tapped his temple. “Inside here is all the wisdom, all the knowledge of all your past selves. Nothing is forgotten, as it is stored in the soul, and you, the Eternal Warrior, have only one soul. You may have been a hundred other people, a thousand, but that is just a suit of clothing upon your true self. Your self is unchanging. The soul remembers all those lives. If Kali is generous, and you devout, she will open the paths to all those memories and skills. If you are afraid, you will be able to draw on the courage of Rama. If you are confused, the wisdom of Ashoka. Think what it would be to know all the arts of war, every martial art, every weapon skill.”

  “I feel there’s a massive ‘but’ coming.”

  For the first time ever, Ujba smiled. Ash couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t a nice smile – too wolfish to be warm – but the lips curled upward and some teeth showed, so technically, Ujba smiled. “Yes. But with so many lives, so many personalities, all advising, all demanding, all trying to control you, your own willpower will be your only defence. Let it waver, even for a moment, and your own personality will be washed away into the sea of all the others. Perhaps for ever, and who knows who may take charge.”

  “Oh joy.”

  “But the advantages outweigh the ris
ks. Time stretches forward as well as back. You will see the threads of the future, see how one thing affects the other. Glimpses of what lies ahead. If you can understand them, you will be considered wise indeed.”

  See the future? Now that was something. “Then let’s get this over and done with.”

  Ujba went to his medicine box. Over the next few minutes, in the dim candlelight, Ash watched him mix his ingredients. He ground leaves into a small silver bowl until all was a fine black powder. He worked in silence, whispering mantras as he worked. Ash tried to keep still, but he fidgeted impatiently. He just wanted the medicine and wanted to get out of there, after Savage.

  Ujba stroked the razor round the rim of the bowl, making the metal hum. Then he faced Ash. “Blood,” he said.

  Ash held out his hand. A moment later there was a small cut and Ash let a few drops drip into the bowl. Ujba stirred as Ash tied a cloth round the thin red line.

  “What exactly goes into this Soma?” asked Ash.

  “Best you not know.”

  “And what will happen to me, when I drink this?”

  “It’s poisonous, so you’ll probably die. At least for a while.”

  Ash took the bowl and sniffed the contents. Putrid didn’t begin to describe it. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to swallow it, and if he did, there was a good chance it would come straight back up, along with his supper of lentils, potatoes and spinach. “Don’t you have something of a less… fatal full-fat flavour? Y’know, diet Soma or something?”

  “You are the Kali-aastra. It will protect you. The Soma will show you Kali.”

  “And what if Kali doesn’t like me?”

  “Then she will eat your soul.”

  “You’re so not selling this,” said Ash.

  “Do you want to defeat Savage or not?” asked Ujba. “Did you think it would be easy? That Kali would just give you her blessing, merely because you asked? Gods want sacrifices. They want payment, like everyone else. There is nothing for free in this world or any other.” He reached over to the Soma and drew it back. “I thought we had a deal. But I understand. Next time, when you’re crying over the corpse of another friend, remember I could have helped you.”