ASH MISTRY AND THE CITY OF DEATH

by Sarwat Chadda

  Jackie stood at the open tent, mouth agog and eyes saucer-sized on seeing Ash. She lunged forward, but halted as Ash dug the katar in deep enough for Savage to cry out. “Stay where you are,” Savage said.

  “Let me kill him, Master,” she snarled. “I want to eat his heart.”

  “I have other plans,” replied Savage. “Ash and I are now… partners.”

  “But Master—”

  “No, Jackie.” He met her gaze, and Jackie, growling deep in her throat, stepped back.

  “Shall we get down to business?” Savage said.

  The wind was picking up and lightning flashed on the horizon. Savage shuffled to the edge of the cliff, Ash close behind him. The wave tops frothed as the sea, so still and silent last night, churned far beneath them.

  “This will do,” said Savage. Ash realised they were on a square platform. Grass covered most of it, but bare stone could still be seen where the grass had been eroded. He looked back at the beach he’d swum from. Was this still part of that road that they’d found in the jungle? Then he turned back towards the storm, still so far away. Where did the road end? Somewhere out in the middle of the sea?

  Savage touched the scarf round his neck. “You can loosen this.”

  The nearest henchman was Jackie, and she was just a pounce away. But Ash let the cloth slip free and wrapped it round his waist as a sash.

  “Thank you,” said Savage. “And now, to work.” He raised his cane and peered far into the distance. His lips moving silently, his cane drew symbols in the air with sharp, swift cuts.

  The ground around them trembled and shifted.

  “What are you doing?” asked Ash.

  “Things you wouldn’t believe, boy.” Savage pointed out to the sea with his cane. “You’ve heard of Lanka, I suppose?”

  “Of course. Ravana’s kingdom.”

  Savage grinned. Ash had seen that face before, frighteningly hungry and obsessed. “Out in the middle of the sea. And Rama’s army, when he came for Ravana, was stuck on the land there, unable to cross.”

  Ash shook his head. “No. Rama’s army attacked Lanka. Rama had them build a bridge stretching all the way across the sea…”

  His gaze fell upon the stone slabs under his feet.

  “Not a bridge, but a causeway,” said Savage. “That was four thousand years ago. The sea was lower then. Now the causeway’s sunk under fifteen metres of water.”

  The waves rose and struck the island. Out in the distance the storm grew wilder. Great blinding flashes of lightning burst across the churning clouds. The wind howled around them, making Ash stagger.

  “Lanka was a series of island kingdoms,” continued Savage, “sustained by Ravana’s magic. When he died, they disappeared, one by one, under the waves. They’re still there, but many hundreds of fathoms deep. But that’s where we’ll find what we’re looking for.”

  All around them, rocks and small stones rolled and bumped into one another. The earth beneath them surged and buckled, flexing like a springboard. One after the other, the loha-mukhas each turned to face the sea, watching the storm.

  “I am master of the elemental sorceries, Ash,” said Savage. “Air, Water, Fire and Earth. I can make the very stones dance. And what else are these –” he spread out his hands to include the army of statues – “but stone, brought to life by me?”

  Ash stared as slabs of stone rose out of the waves. Covered in seaweed and coral and dripping with barnacles, one after the other they broke the surface, creating a road across the water.

  “You’re raising the road to Lanka,” whispered Ash.

  “Yes,” hissed Savage. His face was rigid with the effort. His skin peeled and flaked and his body withered and re-formed as the magic stole his life force. Ash watched as blue veins pulsed against his tissue-thin skin, and Savage bent double, as old and as frail as a skeleton. His white hair fell out in patches. “But not just the road.”

  By now the storm was in its full fury. Twenty-metre-high waves crashed against the rocks, followed by huge tidal waves and heralded by winds that caused the heavy statues to sway. Lightning dazzled the black sky and thunder roared like the screams of the gods.

  Palace spires, ancient, twisted, black and cruel, pierced the boiling waters from below. Ash watched tall towers, stout castles and gardens made of coral rise out of the ocean depths. Water cascaded down paths and off roofs, rivers running from the heights of the palaces back into the sea.

  Lanka, the capital of Ravana, rose out of the ocean.

  avage screamed, his bones stretching and melting as the magic backlash hit him. The skull brands on his chest pulsed with light. His face melted like wax under a blowtorch, obscenely running and re-forming, exposing raw muscle and bone as the body rearranged itself. Ugly blotches of pus and blood swelled under the skin and then sank away. His forehead bubbled and beads of blood dribbled from his eyes. He threw back his head and gave a hissing cry.

  Ash watched with morbid fascination. This was more than just Savage’s life force being robbed and fought over.

  Savage groaned and stiffened. He clutched his head and pushed against the bloated lumps upon his skull. The magical energies within him twisted his limbs and marred his flesh with grotesque, cancerous growths. But Savage fought against them, and eventually he returned to his normal, though decrepit, shape.

  Panting, saliva dribbling from his lips, he stared at Ash. “Now you understand why I need the Brahma-aastra. I cannot go on like this.”

  “I think you’re mistaking me for someone who gives a damn, Savage.” But briefly, Ash pitied the Englishman – and felt something akin to awe. Out where there had been nothing but sea, there now stood an island. If Savage could raise whole lands, then maybe he was telling the truth about the diamond. “I just want Gemma back, as she was.”

  “A promise is a promise.” One of the loha-mukhas came up behind Savage and helped him slip on a fresh white linen shirt. “The secret to that lies in Lanka, upon the Black Mandala.”

  Mandala? Ash’s dad had one at home. It was a religious painting, usually circular. Monks and other holy people used them to aid in their meditations. But he’d never heard of a black one. All the ones he’d seen blazed with colours.

  “What is it?” Ash asked.

  “Something Ravana created. In layman’s terms, it is a scroll with the mantra of Brahma upon it. You give me an hour to study it, and I will awaken the aastra. I’ll transport us to England, and you’ll be holding hands with your friend before dusk.”

  Ash looked at the island. Water still cascaded down from the highest hills, and the entire place shimmered in the bright sunlight. The city of Ravana. He couldn’t believe it. “What else is in there?”

  “You tell me. You’ve been there before, as Rama.”

  Rama, the human prince who had conquered Lanka, and one of Ash’s past lives. But nothing of the scene before him stirred any memories. Ash’s focus was locked on to the first Ashoka. Maybe there wasn’t any room for other memories right now.

  “All I know are the myths,” said Ash.

  “Like me when I first came to India,” Savage said wistfully. “Back in the eighteenth century, this country was a land of myths, as mysterious and as fantastic as that island over there. You have no idea how awe-inspiring it was to see my first elephant, to see the Himalayas. The wonder of it all.”

  “What happened?” The way Savage talked about India made Ash envious, almost. The marvel in Savage’s voice was still there.

  “I discovered many new things. I acquired great knowledge of an esoteric nature. I learned much, but understood little.” Savage accepted a jacket from Jackie and adjusted a marigold in the buttonhole. “Look at Rishi. He was as powerful as I, but he restrained himself, avoided the traps I fell into. Magic’s a drug: the more you use, the less effect it has, so the more you need to do even the smallest of spells. It is an endless downward spiral.”

  “Then why don’t you stop? All the things you know, all the lives you’ve lived, c
ouldn’t you—”

  “Use it for good? Is that what you’re going to say?”

  Ash blushed. It sounded so childish, but that was exactly what he meant.

  Savage put on a pair of stout boots. “Don’t you think I’ve tried? I taught others magic, hoping to create a society of wise men, but that failed. They competed against each other for power, wealth and influence. Power corrupts.”

  “You had apprentices? Where are they?”

  “In hell, I hope. It’s as much as they deserve.” Savage checked his cane, sliding out his sword and giving it a flourish in the shining sunlight before clicking it back in place. “But there is Lanka, and the day is passing. You and I, boy, are partners on a great adventure.”

  “That doesn’t mean I trust you,” said Ash.

  A sly smile cracked over Savage’s pale face. “Of course not.”

  Lanka lay before them, at the end of the wave-washed causeway. The storm had vanished as suddenly as it had arrived. Blue sky appeared through the patches of cloud, and the wind now just ruffled Ash’s hair. Large waves broke on the beach, but they were half the height they’d been just five minutes ago.

  Lanka glistened in the morning sun. The city looked like it had been made of coral and sculpted rock, not built, but grown. The spikes and edges of the buildings were ragged and sharp. It was a place where if you didn’t watch your step, you’d be torn apart.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” said Savage.

  “And dangerous,” said Ash.

  “Dangerous indeed.” Savage’s eyes, two black obsidian orbs, narrowed. “Are you afraid?”

  “How can I be when you’ve got my back?”

  Jackie growled, but Savage laughed and she backed down, her fur rippling across her shoulders. “Come, we are wasting time,” said Savage.

  Savage assembled his party: Jackie, of course; five of the hyena rakshasas and five loha-mukhas. A pair of stone monkeys carried a set of heavy iron-bound chests on their heads. Then came the six-armed Shiva and two winged gargoyles that looked as if they’d just come off the roof of Notre Dame Cathedral. It was like some bizarre expedition from the Victorian era, the brave white explorer and his native bearers. Ash wouldn’t have been surprised if one of the trunks included a china dining set.

  “We need all of that?” Ash asked.

  “Lanka will be defended. Better we be cautious. I wouldn’t want something unpleasant to happen to you.”

  “Sure you wouldn’t.”

  The rakshasas led them down the steep path to the causeway, sniffing the route. Ash stayed close to Savage, his hand on the katar, the diamond in the satchel. The loha-mukhas trailed behind.

  The road lay about half a metre above the sea. Waves splashed across the weathered and seaweed-covered stone. Strange formations of coral had attached themselves to the causeway, decorating it with multicoloured foliage. Bright greens, radiant yellows, blues and golds all shone upon and within the rectangular slabs, as if they had been draped with gems.

  Ash fell into step with Jackie.

  “Glad to be going home?” Ash asked.

  “Lanka was the greatest city in the world, mortal. It is a holy place.”

  “Looks like it could do with a bit of paint.”

  Jackie glanced at him with a look of cold fury. “You killed my only two friends.”

  “And you killed Gemma,” Ash replied, his voice low and threatening.

  “A mortal? What was she?” Jackie snorted. “Mayar was a great, great rakshasa. He wore the skins of princes and feasted on the eyes of kings. Jat was a lord of birds; we ate the dead on countless battlefields. Carrion kings we were. And you killed them both. You, a small, pathetic child.”

  In spite of what he was, or was becoming, he didn’t want to kill anything or anyone. But this close, it was as if he could smell Gemma’s blood on Jackie’s claws.

  Jackie put her hand on Ash’s chest, her claws just scratching his tunic. Two hyena rakshasas stood just behind her, and the other three, somehow, had slipped behind Ash. He glanced at Savage, but the Englishman was not paying attention in that ‘I know what’s going on, but I’m pretending I haven’t seen anything’ sort of way.

  “Classic playground ambush,” Ash said. His punch dagger sat tucked in his sash. “Really, Jackie? This the best you can do?”

  Jackie knew how to grin – lots of teeth and bad attitude. “What’s to stop me from just taking the Koh-i-noor off you right now?”

  Ash dropped his shoulder and the satchel slipped off. He caught it by the strap just before it fell into the water. “This?” He swung the satchel back and forth, higher and higher, holding the strap by a finger. “And what’s to stop me letting go and sending it to the bottom of the sea?”

  Savage cleared his throat. “No more dawdling. We’ve still some miles to go.”

  “It’s not over between us,” said Ash as Jackie joined the other demons.

  Where were Parvati and Khan? Ash constantly looked back, hoping to see them on the shore, but he was too far away.

  He wished they could see what he saw. A bloody huge island with palaces and everything had just risen out of the sea. Even for Parvati, that had to be something special. And it was Lanka, her home.

  Ash searched the chopping waves, wondering if there might be some boat out there bringing the two rakshasas to the island.

  Instead he spotted the fins.

  uddenly the causeway seemed terribly narrow and slippery.”

  “Don’t fall,” warned Jackie. “I want to save you for myself.”

  “I can swim,” snapped Ash.

  Jackie pointed. “Won’t make any difference to them.”

  A few of the dagger-cruel fins darted off to the side, and Ash saw a froth of water jet out. A curving, dark grey shape glided along the surface before submerging again. A whale.

  The fins dipped under after it.

  The other sharks changed direction and shot towards the commotion. The water churned and turned red as more and more of the deadly sea hunters attacked the whale. The sharks piled into one another, utterly focused on feeding and ignoring anything else. They slithered over each other and fought and gouged as great chunks of pink meat were torn off and shaken loose.

  Ash stepped away from the edge as the waves lapped red over his toes. Even from here he sucked in the energy from the death, but it was sickeningly tainted, savage with mindless frenzy. The images of teeth and tearing and flesh slick with blood filled his mind, choking him. He wanted to stop it, but part of him craved more. A new strength surged through him. He licked his lips.

  It went on for minutes, and all of Savage’s party watched with mute horror or admiration. Savage, cane tucked under his arm, put a brass spyglass to his eye.

  Finally the sharks broke away from their feast. A few smaller ones lurked and dived near the kill, but the bigger ones pushed their way back into the open sea. However, one pack – there was no other word for it – swam towards the causeway. They were in formation, a tight, accelerating V with the biggest shark at the front.

  They wanted dessert.

  The sharks gained speed, and the waters rolled out in sharp waves. Black fins slipped parallel to the causeway, getting closer and… stopping.

  “But sharks can’t stop,” whispered Ash. It was one of those freaky bits of useless information he knew.

  Then slick, dark bodies with leathery skins and wide, long snouts clambered up on to the path ahead of them. Their beady black eyes were still fresh with desire and bloodlust, and in their grinning mouths Ash saw the serrated teeth of the ultimate predator. Their faces shrank and narrowed as their tails split into legs, melding into human limbs. Their side flippers grew longer and thicker and were soon strong human arms. They resembled humans, and would have passed easily for them from a distance, but their eyes stayed the soulless black buttons of a shark, and their teeth remained ferociously wicked.

  The leader of the sharks shook off the worst of the seawater. He picked a string of red flesh from h
is teeth and tossed it into the sea.

  Savage stood his ground, immobile, as the rakshasa approached. Whatever else Savage was, he was not a coward.

  The shark-man grinned, a smirk that could have fitted Savage’s head into it with space to spare.

  “Looking good, Alex,” said the shark-man.

  “The same could be said about you, you old rascal,” replied Savage. “Still chewing up Australian surfers?”

  Then Savage and the shark rakshasa laughed and embraced.

  After he greeted Savage and the other rakshasas, the shark-man came over to Ash. His grey skin shimmered with seawater, and Ash saw gill slits on either side of his neck. The rakshara frowned and walked round Ash, inspecting him from all angles. “Tell me, how exactly did this piece of fish bait kill our king?”

  “I agree, he’s not much to look at,” said Savage.

  “Hey!” Ash said. What did they mean, ‘not much to look at’?

  Half the pack remained in shark form, circling in the water. The other shark rakshasas waited ahead of the party. Of all the rakshasas Ash had seen, they were the least human, their skins thick and scaly. Two still had back fins, and all looked uncomfortable out of the water, moving unsteadily as they got used to having legs.

  The lead shark-man, ignoring Ash, glanced back towards Lanka. “There are a lot of curses still in place. We’ve dismantled the outer ones, but beyond the walls, you’ll have to tread carefully.”

  Savage smiled. “I would expect nothing less.”

  The sharks dived back into the sea, transforming before they’d even touched the water. Their fins sliced through the green waters and were soon lost among the waves.

  “Let’s move,” said Savage.

  Ash searched around him. There was sea in every direction. Even if Parvati and Khan were out there somewhere, with the loha-mukhas guarding the causeway and the sharks patrolling the ocean, the chances of them getting to Lanka without being torn limb from limb were pretty negligible.

  And – what curses?

  This was Ravana’s capital. This was the heart of the demon nations. There would be treasure, for sure. Magic? Yeah, pretty damn likely. And none of it would be lying around in easy-to-access locations. The word ‘deadly’ sprang to mind. So did ‘lethal’, ‘fatal’ and ‘extremely hazardous to your health’.