But the city was alive. People, mostly men, haunted the doorways, the streets and alleys, brandishing torches. They still wore torn remnants of uniforms, their badges decorated with the poppies and swords of the Savage family crest. Their bodies were twisted backwards, their limbs at odd angles. They walked, crawled, slithered. Some lay curled up, sobbing. Some moaned and others screamed, nothing more than tormented things, driven insane by their transformations.
“These people worked here, didn’t they?” asked Ash. “What’s happened to them?”
“The Iron Gates are weakening. The Kali-aastra must be near. My father’s magic is already seeping out, transforming the world,” said Parvati, keeping them both hidden in the shadows of a partially fallen wall. “This is only the beginning. Once he’s free, this will seem like a garden, a paradise, in comparison.”
Animals snarled and crept along the shadowy paths, some with two heads, others skinless but alive, their bodies turned inside out so their guts and arteries hung loose in the dust. The smell was a miasma of putrid gases and hot, rotting offal. The biting wind couldn’t lift it – it hung over the city like a foul fog.
Ash gripped his punch dagger tight. Otherwise it would have shaken like a tree branch. He had clamped his mouth shut to stop himself from puking. He stepped on something that slithered under his foot and squealed. He didn’t look. Lucky was somewhere in this place. If he did nothing else, he had to get her out.
Two long lines of blazing bonfires stood along either side of what must once have been the royal avenue. Ash and Parvati headed towards the centre of the city. Closer up, Ash realised they were funeral pyres. Even through the near-blinding flames, he could see human bodies twisted in torment, their limbs chained. So that was what had happened to the rest of the workers: they’d been thrown on to the blazing logs while still alive.
Ash could barely bring himself to move forward. He looked up at Parvati. Her ivory fangs were fully extended and oily with venom.
“Don’t let that happen to me, OK?” he said. “If you know what I mean.”
“You won’t feel a thing,” Parvati promised. She would finish him off. Better that than suffer the fate of those poor souls.
Screams, chants and cries echoed all around as the damned called up to the heavens. The clouds above them trembled. Wind roared through the streets, carrying clouds of dust.
“So this is Hell,” whispered Ash.
He felt a rush of air and pulled Parvati hard up against the side of a building. They just got into the shadows as a creature landed on top of a nearby wall.
The monster squatted, chewing some lump of meat. Its beak was black and slick with gristle, its scaled head decorated with globules of blood. The talons on its feet scratched the hard-mud bricks. The wings, dark and shiny, looked like those of a giant crow, and it clutched something in its claws.
Ash held his breath, squeezing Parvati’s hand. He watched the demon tear strips of flesh off the thing in its claws, cracking bones to get at the marrow and tossing back its head to gulp down the morsels. Then with a snap of its beak, it dropped the meal, spread out its wings and, with a triumphant cry, leaped skyward.
Ash let out a puff of breath and released Parvati. His gaze fell on the thing the crow-rakshasa had been eating.
A hand.
“There are patrols everywhere.” Parvati scanned the sky. “Above ground, on it, and no doubt below too. Savage isn’t taking any chances.”
She was right. Closer to the city centre Ash saw lumbering creatures barging their way through the mutated humans, scanning them and attacking at random. They tossed one man back and forth between them, his body flying and cart-wheeling through the air.
“What are we going to do?” Ash asked.
“What else?” Parvati unhooked the serpent sword. She shook out the coils and the steel edges hissed against each other.
“Wait,” said Ash. There had to be a better way of finding Savage than wandering aimlessly around the excavations. Ash searched his memory. All the Harappan cities had been designed the same way; he had heard his uncle talk about it. This one, the city chosen to be Ravana’s tomb, was on a far larger scale, but seemed to have the standard layout. They were in what archaeologists called the Lower City, the residential district for the main, common, population. The houses here were basic, two or three storeys high, and all built on a grid system. This wasn’t where they’d find Ravana. The tomb would be nearer the heart, where the more important buildings stood.
“He’s up in the citadel,” said Ash.
He pointed up the main road to the heart of the city. At its end was the huge central square, featureless but for a single black building. The square itself was surrounded by a deep moat and could only be reached by a single bridge.
Between it and them were ten thousand demons.
Parvati followed his gaze, and her serpent sword twitched, eager for battle. Ash had seen her fight: she was death incarnate, wrapped in the body of a teenage girl with pale skin and cobra eyes. Still, despite four and a half thousand years of fighting experience, even she couldn’t beat these odds.
What they needed was a diversion.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “You’re thinking this needs someone to do something brave, bold and stupid.”
“That’s me,” said Ash. “Just promise me you’ll save Lucky.”
Parvati’s irises dilated, then narrowed into the thinnest of slivers. “You’re going to die,” she said. “You know that, don’t you?”
Ash nodded once, unable to speak. He tried to smile, to act as though it was no big deal. If he were really brave, he’d make some cool joke and not stand there, trembling with fear, his throat as dry as ash.
“Just give me ten minutes to get closer to the tomb. Then create your diversion.” Parvati put her hand on his cheek, her palm cool and dry. “I’ll save her, I promise.”
“Then get a move on before I change my mind.”
She kissed him.
It took his breath away, his heart quickening as her lips pressed against his. When she stepped back the soft touch lingered and there was just the faintest scent, like grass after the rains, old but still fresh and ever renewed.
His first, and last, kiss.
Parvati tied her hair up into a knot, getting it out of her eyes, and retreated into the shadows. “Goodbye, Ash,” she said. The darkness thickened around her. “We will meet again.”
Then she was gone. Ash heard the softest of footfalls and the scrap of blade against blade, then nothing.
Perhaps they would meet again.
But not in this lifetime.
ingers locked round the dagger hilt, Ash wiped the tears from his eyes.
His father had told him stories of the ancient warriors – the Rajputs. Rajasthan was named after them. When they’d faced certain defeat, the men had dressed in their finest robes and adorned themselves with their brightest jewels. Then they would charge the enemy, fighting, knowing they would be slaughtered, but never hesitating, never surrendering. Like true heroes.
But Ash was no ancient hero. A month ago he was having his lunch money stolen by the school bullies.
Today is a good day to die. That’s what the Rajput warriors would say.
But it was never a good day to die.
He wanted to live, wanted it so badly that he shuffled backwards, ashamed of his cowardice, but unable to prevent it. He wanted to live! Surely Parvati could kill Savage without him? Maybe he’d underestimated her. She’d save Lucky and bring her here. He’d just wait on this spot. Safe.
No. If he stayed, Parvati would fail, Savage would win, and Lucky would die. If he stayed here, Ravana would be freed.
Look after your sister.
He could do that. He would do that.
How long had it been since Parvati left? He wasn’t sure. It must be ten minutes by now. If he waited any longer, he might never find the courage to act. This was it. He had to create a diversion – now.
; Ash crept forward, keeping himself in the shadows. The hideous servants of Ravana didn’t notice him. They screamed and wailed and danced, celebrating the imminent coming of their king, but he pushed his way through, eyes on the citadel ahead. Ash turned a corner and tripped over two crouching figures.
“I’m so sorry,” Ash said as he trod on a thick, leathery tail.
Two rat rakshasas glared at him as they squatted over their meal, a small mangy dog. One pushed Ash back, hard.
“Away, fool,” snapped one. “We’re having dinner.”
Ash stepped away. He needed to get a lot closer to the citadel if he was going to create a diversion that might work. Cold sweat crept down his back. Time was running out. He looked for an empty alley.
“Hold.”
One of the rat demons, a dog’s hind leg still in its hand, came up to him. It sniffed at his feet, then stood, smelling round his throat. Its pink eyes came close up to Ash’s.
“Why aren’t you changed, like the other mortals?” it asked.
Ash swallowed. He needed to think of something really clever. “I am. It’s just on the inside. Completely changed.”
And that wasn’t.
The rat widened its jaws to give Ash an extremely close-up view of its crooked yellow teeth. It clearly didn’t believe Ash’s cunning lie. And it wasn’t going to let him get away.
“Sod it,” said Ash and he rammed his dagger into the rat’s belly.
The cut bit deep and blood gushed out. The second leaped at Ash and the two of them fell. Ash lost his grip on his weapon so he punched the rat’s long nose, and the rat snapped its yellow, crooked teeth at Ash’s fingers. Its tail twitched and encircled Ash’s leg. This was a brawl, no skill or style, just the two biting, punching and kicking each other. The rat screamed as Ash pulled out a handful of whiskers. Then he kneed the monster between the legs and the rat groaned and let go.
Ash picked up his dagger as more creatures approached. He was panting hard from the scuffle and blinded with sweat, but he struck out at any who got too close.
“Fight then! What are you afraid of?” he roared.
A high-pitched cackle Ash recognised echoed from the alleys. A rakshasa bounded out of the crumbling walls and houses, her thick red mane quivering in the wind. She landed a few metres from him, crouched on all fours, grinning, her amber eyes wide with delight.
“My dear, sweet boy,” said Jackie. “How good of you to join us.”
Ash pointed the dagger at her. “Come on then.” Funny, he wasn’t scared. Now that he’d made the decision to fight he felt strangely calm. All he wanted to do, before Jackie tore him limb from limb, was to wipe that ugly grin off her face.
But before he could strike, she pounced, knocking him flat on his back and smashing all the air out of him. Ash jabbed with the dagger but she cuffed it out of his hand. Ash was almost suffocated by the stench of decaying meat hanging around her.
“Savage is waiting,” she cackled. “He knew you’d come. Stupid human.”
She head-butted him and Ash’s neck almost snapped. Black spots swelled in front of his eyes and his limbs gave up. He stared at her, dimly aware of the monster leaning back to head-butt him again.
The next blow didn’t hurt at all. But that was because Ash was already unconscious.
enses swimming, body limp, Ash was dragged through the city. Dimly he made out the grotesque faces of rakshasas glaring at him with undisguised hate.
They came to the royal avenue, lined by burning pyres and monsters. The path rose upwards and Ash blinked away the dull, wavering confusion in his head. He needed to focus.
The road was arrow-straight and led to a bridge about ten metres long and two wide, crossing over to the central square. There was no railing, and Ash peered over the side as they crossed it. One slip and he’d tumble thirty metres or more down into a dry, empty moat that surrounded the central square, which was vast, flat and marked by just one feature.
A huge cube of black iron.
Ravana’s prison. It had to be at least fifteen metres wide and high, and there, set in the front of the cube were a pair of gates, two high panels that groaned as though the metal itself was being tortured by what lay within. The air around the building shimmered with a heat haze, distorting the cube so it looked unearthly – not quite solid, not quite real.
Jackie forced him on to the square and Ash collapsed in front of the iron building. He had to dig his nails into the carvings that covered its surface to hoist himself up. The metal was warm, pulsing with heat. Ash sensed the hatred radiating from within it.
The gates bore ornate scenes of warriors and strange creatures, half man and half beast. Rakshasas. There was no spare patch of wall that wasn’t filled with bloodshed. The battlefield seemed endless. Indecipherable runes lined the top and bottom of the walls, no doubt the story of the great war between man and demon-kind. In the heart of the slaughter stood an immense warrior, decorated with gold leaf, the one bright spot on the dark iron canvas. He stood upon a mountain of corpses, sword in each hand. He could not be touched or harmed, though his armoured body bristled with arrows and swords. Each sweep of his swords tore apart bodies, and armies turned to dust under his gaze. Ravana.
Where was Parvati?
The prison of Ravana shimmered and the metal moaned. The trapped demon king was stirring within, his power already corrupting the country with his madness. This close, a metre away from his spirit, Ash could barely stop himself from screaming.
“Beautiful, isn’t he?”
Ash blinked and turned towards the speaker. Light distorted around the cube, colours quivered and fractured and he could make out a cluster of figures beside the prison, but nothing more. Then one approached him, coalescing into a single, solid form.
Savage. He had changed, and for the worse. He was bent double, a crooked, wrinkled thing, his head sunk low on his chest and his spine curved and humped. But his eyes still shone with insane desire. He turned his deformed head, smiling at Ash. Only his black magic and immense willpower was keeping him alive. He leaned heavily on his cane, and Ash glimpsed something in his other hand, something silver and gold.
“Ash!”
He recognised the voice instantly and sobbed with joy as he saw the small girl held by Mayar.
“Lucky?”
She ran into his arms. They hung on to each other, and Ash could feel her heartbeat, as light and fast as a sparrow’s.
“You OK?” he asked.
“I am now you’re here,” she smiled weakly, wiping away her tears.
Ash smoothed her hair away from her face. “I promised.”
“I didn’t believe you. I’m sorry.” Lucky trembled against him. “I’m sorry, Ash. I’m so sorry.”
“Me too. I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess.” He ran his fingers through her tangled black hair. “It’ll be OK, Lucky. I promise.”
“How terribly touching. You came all this way by yourself?” Savage peered across the city, searching with his nearly blind eyes. “Where’s Parvati?”
“Dead. The spider-woman’s poison was too much.”
Jackie handed Savage the punch dagger. “Then this was your rescue plan? To barge in here, with this piece of cutlery?” He tossed the dagger away. “My, my, you do suffer from delusions of grandeur.”
Ash stood up and faced Savage. Now, with Lucky here and Parvati on her way, he wasn’t afraid. He had Savage’s attention; he had to delay the Englishman as long as possible. Parvati was coming. She had to be.
“Delusional?” said Ash. “I got this far, didn’t I? I escaped the fortress and beat your demons.”
Savage leered. “True, but I still ended up with this.”
He revealed the object hidden behind his back: the aastra. The golden arrowhead had been fixed to the end of a slim silver shaft so it looked like an arrow again. The fletching was mother-of-pearl and rippled with colour. It was too heavy to be used as an arrow, but would serve perfectly well as a dagger; the arrowhead was easily
sharp enough.
Savage gazed down at the weapon. “A great death. That’s all I need now to awaken the aastra. Once it is awakened, I’ll use it to smash open the gates, and my lord, Ravana, will be free.” He touched the iron reverentially, like it was the holiest of shrines. “He will make me immortal. Young again. Beautiful again. Safe from death, for ever.”
Where’s Parvati?
She was meant to be here. Now was the perfect time for a last-minute rescue. But as he searched the rakshasas beyond the moat, he couldn’t see her. Maybe she’d met some rakshasa tougher than her after all.
There was always a last-minute rescue in the stories. But this was real life, and maybe in real life the bad guys won.
It came to him, only now, when it was too late. He’d thought Savage would sacrifice Lucky to awaken the aastra. He remembered Parvati hadn’t sounded so sure. To open the Iron Gates a great death was needed and Lucky was not a ‘great death’. Not for Savage.
“It’s me you want, isn’t it?” said Ash.
“At last, the penny drops.” Savage pointed the aastra at him. “Yes, I need you. The eternal warrior. Yours will be the great death.”
Lucky looked at Savage, then back at Ash. “No!”
Savage continued, “I wondered why Rishi was so interested in you: a weak, cowardly and quite useless child. But then, despite everything I threw at you, you not only survived, you prospered. Jat’s death could have been mere chance. But escaping my fortress? Defeating Mayar? That was not chance, that was destiny.”
Ash looked at Lucky. He smiled at her, though he could hardly see through his tears. “I’m sorry, Lucks. It’s the only way.”
She dug her fingers into his arms, shaking her head. “No…”
“Lucks, think about it. I have to do this.” She was his sister and he had to get her out of here, nothing else mattered. He brushed her hair from her face. Parvati would be here, soon, he was sure of it, but maybe not in time to save him. He faced Savage.
Ash Mistry and the Savage Fortress Page 19
