He’s delirious. He thinks I’m the prince.
“What can I do?” Ash asked. “Tell me how to save you.”
“Not important,” said Vibheeshana. “You must stop Savage from getting the Black Mandala. Ravana wrote the secrets of all ten sorceries upon it. Savage aspires to be as great as my brother.”
“But how? No human can contain all that magic. Savage would be torn apart.” He could barely handle the seven sorceries he had already mastered, twisting into hideous shapes each time he cast a spell.
“That’s why he wants the Brahma-aastra. It would counteract any changes, prevent the colossal energies from destroying him.” Vibheeshana sighed as he sank into Ash’s arms, then a humourless smile spread across his bloody lips. “But he’s twice the fool. Ravana cursed the diamond. He told me that if he couldn’t use its powers, then no one could.”
“No…”
Ash stopped himself, and there in the flooded hall, cradling the demon lord, he knew Gemma was never coming back. That he’d failed as completely as anyone could. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair. A sob caught in his throat and he tightened his grip on Vibheeshana, as if he could squeeze another answer, a better one, out of the dying rakshasa prince.
He could picture her in the canteen, looking at him with her hazel eyes. Her shivering in her thin jumper on Bonfire Night. Her standing in his hall.
Her smile.
All that was gone, and for ever. “It’s my fault. All of it.”
Vibheeshana looked at Ash with immeasurable sadness and put his blood-stained hands on Ash’s cheeks. “No. Never think that. Parvati told me why you were here. You wanted to save your friend.”
“I should have listened to Parvati.” He looked hopelessly at the mountain of rubble. She was still there, somewhere. Had he lost her too? “I should never have come.”
“You came because you hoped, and few things are as powerful as hope. That is how the world changes. Now let her go. Give her, and yourself, peace.”
Ash should have known Savage was lying. Deep down, didn’t he know that? His own desires had blinded him. He’d only heard what he’d wanted to hear. Now the terrible truth came to him. There was one mastery Savage wanted above all others. The sorcerer had talked about fixing his past mistakes. “He wants to go back in time.”
“Savage is insane; he doesn’t understand,” Vibheeshana whispered, his strength fading. “To change the past destroys the future. That is why Ravana never used his mastery over Time. My brother was wise enough to know that, at least.”
“Where is the Black Mandala?”
Vibheeshana pointed to the opposite doorway. “Quickly now. Lanka will not last long without my magic to maintain it.”
“But what about Parvati?”
The demon lord smiled. “My niece has escaped more deadly traps than this. Please, there is little time. You must stop him.”
Ash gritted his teeth and hissed. “Savage is a dead man.”
Vibheeshana didn’t reply. A last breath whispered out as the demon lord, the brother of Ravana and the last king of Lanka, died.
“AVAGE!” Ash ran through the hall. “SAVAGE!”
There was just one exit. Ash barrelled towards the crooked archway as the lintel bent and split and the roof above him cracked. Jets of seawater sprayed down. A huge crack rent the wall above him and a waterfall burst through, creating a mighty roaring wall of water twenty metres high. Foam fizzed and sprayed everywhere, soaking Ash as he raced through it. Vibheeshana’s death had revived him, closing up his wounds and adding power to his rage.
“Savage!”
The corridor was lit by spluttering lamps. The floor shifted to the side and Ash grabbed hold of the wall. There was a sharp hiss and a sudden shot of water as another fracture appeared in the ceiling.
We’re all going to drown.
But he would kill Savage first. His uncle and aunt. Gemma and Vibheeshana, dead, all because of Savage.
And him. He’d led them down the path of destruction.
Why fight destiny? You are the Kali-aastra. You are the death-bringer.
His fingers tightened round Parvati’s urumi. Unable to find his katar, he’d grabbed her weapon instead. Two blades were missing, but it was lethal enough with the remaining pair.
A light shone ahead of him – not the flickering flames of a lamp, but a bright, clear, steady glow of pale blue. Ash slowed down. He carefully wrapped the two remaining blades of the urumi into a loose loop. He didn’t want the metal to scrape together and alert Savage.
The door in front of him was open just wide enough for Ash to look into the room beyond. Ravana’s treasury. The light reflected off the extravagant bronze panelling, engraved with glorious scenes of beautiful nymphs and mighty demon lords. It was studded with precious gems, each one glittering. Ash, as silent and as certain as death, slipped in through the narrow gap.
The entire ceiling was made up of millions of small crystals. It was like being inside a diamond. Gold coins, jewellery and gems lay scattered across the carpeted floor. There were statues of silver with eyes of sapphire. Crowns lay gathering dust, discarded in the corners and now home to spiders. Here were Egyptian statues, Mesopotamian engravings on golden plates, and cups wrought with swirling Chinese dragons. Ash recognised some of the styles and designs. His bare toes sank into the mouldy, algae-covered carpet, which smothered whatever sound his footsteps might have made. The thunder of the collapsing hall behind him and the encroaching sea seemed dull and distant.
The glow of pale blue still came from round the corner. Ash stepped towards it and peered ahead.
The air crackled and sparks jolted out of thin vapours that seemed to be emerging from a black surface on the far wall. A vast circular scroll hung there, suspended in a frame of iron.
The Black Mandala.
It was glossy black and decorated with shimmering patterns, also in black. Concentric circles seemed to turn and spiral in and out, trapping Ash’s gaze. Minute figures guarded each ring, demons and things yet more hideous, so that his eyes burned with pain looking upon them. The painting gave off a low, powerful hum, something soul-deep, and it drew Ash irresistibly towards it. He struggled to breathe, captivated as he was by the Mandala. The painting sucked in everything, an abysmal void as all-consuming as any black hole. In the patterns he saw galaxies, stars, the endless depths of the universe, as if the Mandala held it all within it. But even deeper within that infinite darkness, Ash sensed a lurking presence, something beyond the boundaries of existence.
Savage sat facing the Mandala. His back to Ash, his ankles up on his knees, he meditated in the classic yoga lotus position, his attention completely consumed by the painting. The Koh-i-noor blazed in his left palm, casting a blue light out in all directions.
Ash swayed, unable to take his eyes off the blackness. It was as though he was tottering on the edge of a fathomless pit, some unknown power tempting him to jump. There would be no pain, because the fall would never end. He would tumble through all time, over and over. How long? It would have no meaning. Time wouldn’t exist if he fell.
His heart pumped harder and harder in desperation. He grabbed hold of the table beside him and knocked over a pile of stacked jewels. Plates and bowls and countless jewels chimed and rang as the treasures fell upon each other. But the ringing noises distracted him from the hypnotic patterns on the painting. Distracted him – and Savage.
Savage was on his feet, tiger cane in one hand and the Koh-i-noor in the other. “You’re becoming quite annoying, boy.” Already his flesh was firm and strong, his skin smooth and unblemished.
Ash released the urumi. The two blades unravelled and lay along the floor. He flexed his wrist and the steel rattled with anticipation. Ash peered through his death senses, using Marma Adi to find the way to kill Savage.
But all the golden points dimmed on Savage. Rather, paths of power radiated from the Mandala, strengthening him. Through his shirt glowed the outline of a new skull, the eighth, which ha
d begun to take shape upon his chest. Soon he’d be as powerful as Ravana ever was. And as invulnerable.
The skulls on Savage’s chest burned, first a brilliant, bloody red, then brighter, turning yellow and finally blinding white. The air buzzed and the table shook. The weapons hanging from the wall clattered against each other. The hairs on the nape of Ash’s neck rose, and the air around him thickened, making it hard to breathe.
The paths of power between Savage and the Mandala multiplied. The eighth skull was almost complete. Two more were appearing as faint outlines.
Then the colours of the Koh-i-noor changed. The brilliant azure light dulled and turned foul with sickly greens and vile browns, pulsing in the sorcerer’s hand. The hand began to melt. The flesh bubbled as Savage’s fingers fused together.
“What’s happening?” Savage stared at the hand as the arm twisted, the muscles flexing unnaturally. His bones distorted under the skin, and Savage howled as his neck twisted sharply, almost turning his head backwards. His skull inflated on one side as the other sank, his cheekbones collapsing. Teeth tumbled from his slack jaw.
“Ravana cursed the diamond, Savage. You should have known better than to trust a demon king.”
“No, it can’t be.” Crackling sparks jumped over Savage’s body and his eyes filled with lightning. “This is your doing. Time to die, boy.”
avage swept up the cane, and the air burst as a lightning bolt erupted from the tiger’s eyes.
The urumi screamed as Ash flicked out the two blades.
Electrical sparks from Savage’s magical attack shot off in all directions, shattering mirrors and punching holes in the walls and ceiling. Ash shimmered with blue light, uncontrollable energy screaming along his nerves. But he gritted his teeth, sweat evaporating off him, and stood up, his skin tingling as the sparks danced across him, leaping from his fingertips on to the rattling metal around him. The shock waves hit him again and again as the very air burned. His flesh blackened under the scorching heat and he thought he’d burst apart, but something held him, an iron core of strength that protected him from incineration.
He almost collapsed the moment the lightning ended. He groaned as the smoke rose off his skin and the stench of his own burning flesh filled his nostrils. But, slowly, strength returned, and the wounds covering him began to heal. The blistered flesh cooled and turned back into a healthy, firm brown. He stood in a smouldering crater of molten rock, but he was fine, when he should have been a pile of ash.
Vibheeshana. That was why he was alive. He’d been with the demon lord as he died and had absorbed his magical powers. And a master of nine sorceries always trumped a master of eight. Instead of being fried by the lightning, Ash had survived.
Ash gazed at the urumi. The metal had completely rusted. The hilt crumbled as he closed his fist. The carpet under his feet was burned away and smoking, and the wall had a big dent in it. The only sound was the chink chink chink of gold coins falling off a broken table.
“No…” Savage said.
Ash looked at the Black Mandala. It was powerless now. One tip of the urumi had ripped it in two, destroying its magic. The ragged paper flapped in the breeze.
“No…” Savage stumbled over, cradling his left arm, which now ended in a bloody stump. He moaned with impotent rage and slumped down to his knees. “It’s too much…”
Savage’s massive, deformed head now rested upon a stick-thin neck. The skull was so huge that the skin across it was stretched to a tearing point. The flesh, yellow, cancerous and flaky, hung upon a twisted, mutated skeleton, the legs different lengths, one with a huge foot twisted backwards. The fingers of his remaining hand had melded together as well and were more like a flipper, the nails curled and thick. Any resemblance to a human being was purely incidental.
But his eyes – his eyes shone with feverish power. Black upon black, they were the eyes of night, or pure darkness. One was swollen, a bulbous growth stricken with yellow pus that dripped from sores across his brow.
Savage’s severed left hand lay near Ash’s feet, its fingers still curled round the Koh-i-noor. The second blade of the serpent sword had cut his hand off his wrist.
Ash pressed his foot on to the severed appendage and the fingers opened. He took the bloody diamond and put it firmly in his waist sash. He looked down at Savage, moaning on the floor, pale and deformed.
The room shook and the walls bowed, cracks burst along them and the columns began to splinter. Ash sat down.
He’d stopped Savage. Destroyed the Black Mandala once and for all. He’d done it.
But there was no escaping. They were deep under the Indian Ocean, and water was already spilling into the room. Outside he could hear the dull roar of the sea flooding the corridors and hall. The route back to the surface would be underwater by now. What he would give to just magically appear at the shore.
Hold on…
“Get us out of here,” said Ash. “Teleport us back to land.”
“Do it yourself,” Savage snarled back. “You’ve absorbed Vibheeshana’s powers, haven’t you?”
He could be right, but Ash had no idea how to make use of the demon lord’s energies. He could end up on the moon or send different parts of his body in a dozen different directions.
“We had a deal, Savage.” Million to one shot, but things were desperate. He pulled out Savage’s belt and buckled it as tight as he could around the man’s forearm. The blood flow from the stump lessened, then stopped. He needed Savage alive, just a bit longer.
“Look at me. One more spell and I’ll explode.”
Ash grinned. “Now that I’d like to see. But at least you’ll die trying.”
“I can’t do it. I’ve never moved that far. And I don’t know where to go. I need coordinates, a sense of the target arrival area. I need—”
“Just get up!” Ash lifted Savage up and dragged him to the door. If they could get nearer to the surface Savage might stand a better chance. Better than no chance at all.
Water flooded the corridor, and they had to fight against the rapidly swelling current. The hallway rocked and fractured, and with each shudder more water burst out from between the cracks.
The roaring sea deafened him as it was amplified by the narrow confines of the corridor. The water was waist deep by the time they got to the entrance to the hall.
The waterfall that had erupted from the wall slammed down over them as they entered. Ash disappeared under the water, but never let go of Savage. He came up coughing and spluttering, shaking the water from his ears.
“Come on!” Ash shouted.
Savage struggled to escape, but he was too weak from blood loss. One foot was now so enlarged that the toes had torn through the leather boot.
Then Ash heard something above the roaring water.
Perched on one of the broken columns was a tiger, its fur gleaming and soaked. The waters swirled around it as it flicked its tail back and forth. Round its neck hung a girl in green-scaled armour. Her cobra eyes met Ash’s, and there was something that looked like a smile.
Ash pointed at them. “We’re bringing them with us.”
Savage stared in horror. “I can’t! I can barely take the two of us.”
“Then let’s hope you can hold your breath for a really, really long time,” said Ash as he waded across to them.
Parvati and Khan leaped into the water and joined them. Parvati hugged Ash very hard like she was never going to let go. Then she peered at him and gave him a light slap.
“Ouch,” said Ash. “What’s that for?”
“Being suicidal,” she said. She stared up at the mighty wall of water descending from on high. “You should have got out while you still could.”
“Where’s Jackie?”
“She fled. Should have followed her. Now it’s too late. The exit corridor’s collapsed. We’re not leaving here, Ash. I’m sorry.”
Ash dragged Savage forward. “That’s why I brought him.”
Parvati frowned. “What?”
Savage stared at Ash with pure, volcanic hate. He gritted his teeth so hard Ash thought they’d crack. His veins throbbed in his forehead. “I do this, I go.”
Ash glared back. “Get us out, Savage.”
Parvati grabbed Ash’s hand. “Are you totally sure about––”
unlight shimmered above him, fragmented upon the waves, and long beams shone down into the deep blue depths of the sea. The water surged, and Ash swam upward through it, kicking hard towards the light. Bubbles slipped out from between his lips. He fought the water, pulling himself higher.
He gasped as he broke the surface. He stared around frantically and saw Parvati burst out of the sea nearby. The sun was bright, warm and oh so welcoming. He felt like he’d been underground for ever.
Khan, back in human form, had Savage round the waist. He pointed beyond Ash’s shoulder. “The shore.”
They swam and spluttered the last hundred or so metres until Ash felt sand under his toes. Waves rose over his head and he was knocked over twice before he decided to just crawl back to the beach. Even on his hands and knees, he barely had enough strength to do so, and he was embarrassingly glad when Khan dragged him the last few metres and dropped him on to the sand.
Ash lay there, on his back. “I thought cats hated water.”
Khan grinned, his canines still long. “Not tigers. We love it.”
Parvati gazed back at the sea and raised her hand in farewell.
Ash struggled up to see what she was looking at. Great waves were pounding the cliffs and walls of Lanka as it slowly sank beneath the swell. The earth shook as the walls protecting it crumbled, gigantic slabs of pearly marble tumbling down as towers toppled into them. Palaces slipped into the foam, hills disappeared back into the depths. The Jagannath swayed as the waves crashed against it again and again. The giant statue fought back, bracing itself as the waves grew higher and more powerful. Finally one towering wall of water engulfed it. The waters frothed and great jets shot up high into the sky as the last of the towers descended into the abyss. Then the churning sea settled, finally at peace.
ASH MISTRY AND THE CITY OF DEATH Page 24
