“Yes. Very.”
They’d called Mum the moment they touched down and here they were, waiting for their dad to take them home.
Home. Where was that? Ash had spent the last month dreaming of London – but now, it didn’t feel like going home.
Lucky sipped on a bottle of Coke. She smiled up at him and tapped her foot impatiently, eyes on the lift doors that her father would come through any minute now.
Parvati looked at Ash. She wore her blackest shades and gave him a weak smile.
John followed his gaze and nudged him. “Go say something to her.”
“What?”
“How should I know? Something. Something nice.”
With a deep sigh, Ash agreed.
“I’m going,” he said as he reached her.
“Yes.”
Ash scratched his thumb. “You’ll be OK?”
“I’ve been OK for four thousand, five hundred and fifteen years. Yes, I’ll be OK.”
“Great,” he said. Ash stretched his collar again. In spite of the clothes he was wearing, the shirt, jacket, creased trousers and polished boots, he didn’t feel like an ‘English’ any more. He wanted to stay. His heart told him so. India was where he belonged.
But there was more than that. Something he’d not told the others. They’d seen him defeat the demon king and practically fly through the air, but since then Ash had tried to be normal, to act as if those superhuman abilities had gone. But he felt far from normal.
See Varanasi and die.
Pilgrims came here at the end of their lives and their deaths fed him energy. He was absorbing it from all around him now. Each passing spirit made him stronger. Power waxed and waned within him. He didn’t need to sleep any more, nor eat or drink. Was he now more than human, or less than human?
What was he becoming?
“Are you OK?” asked Parvati.
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you were resurrected by Kali. Maybe because you have the powers of a demon king in your heart. Nothing important, I’m sure.”
“Things have changed, Parvati.”
“And that’s why you need to be careful.”
Ash laughed. “With great power comes great responsibility, right? I learned that from Spider-Man.”
“Do you take all your philosophy from comic books?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
Parvati gazed at him. Even with her eyes hidden behind dark glasses, Ash felt them penetrate his own. “Then let me tell you what I think,” she said. “Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. It’s a famous saying, but it’s true. So watch yourself, Ashoka Mistry.”
“He’s still out there,” said Ash. “I should stay and help you find him.”
“Your job is done. You need to look after your sister. I’ll deal with Savage.”
Savage. The thought of him darkened Ash’s mood.
“Easy, Ash,” said Parvati.
Ash blinked, then smiled. “I’m good.”
Parvati didn’t look convinced. She’d been wary around him ever since that night. Sure, she smiled and was friendly, but the power balance had shifted, big time.
She put her cool hand against his cheek. “My hero.”
Hero?
He didn’t feel like a hero. He’d fought Savage and Ravana, but each time he’d been almost paralysed by fear, ready to give up. But he hadn’t. Maybe that was it, he’d never quit. He’d gone on even when he’d been terrified. Being heroic wasn’t about being fearless, it was about conquering your fear and never giving up.
He just hoped he never, ever had to go through that again. Saving the world once was enough for anyone.
“I’m still me, Parvati. That hasn’t changed.”
“You just make sure you stay this way.”
Suddenly Lucky screamed with joy and dashed into the arms of a man emerging from the lift. There were tears streaming down his face.
“Dad,” said Ash. His heart swelled to bursting and he tingled all over. He couldn’t believe it. After all they’d been through, there was his dad, and that was the most important thing in the world.
He saw the man’s red-rimmed eyes and his unkempt black hair. He saw the ruffled clothes and the tiredness. He saw his father smile at Lucky as he swung her in the air.
Ash blinked as he saw the golden spots glow over his father’s body. There, above his heart. There, along the arteries of his arm, his lungs, his neck. The temples of his head. There were so many ways to kill. Ash closed his eyes.
The Kali-aastra. He could never forget it.
He took a deep breath and opened his eyes again. The glowing points had vanished for now, and then their eyes met. His dad put Lucky down. The smile was soft, and he gave a slight nod. But Ash felt the joy radiating brightly from his father.
He was the Kali-aastra, but that was not the sum of him. He was Ash. He was thirteen and he missed home so very much. He was that man’s son.
Ash turned to Parvati. “I have to go.”
She leaned forward and put her warm, smooth lips against his. They lingered there and Ash felt a shiver run right through his body. In a good way. A very good way. He could get used to this.
“May the gods protect you, Ashoka Mistry,” she whispered.
Ash smiled, unable to answer. He held her hand and, reluctantly, released it. Then he went to his father.
A shadow loomed across the ceiling, one only Ash could see. Arms, sinewy and shaking with bangles of bone, spread out to embrace him. He nodded to her in acceptance. She would protect him, of that he was sure. Protect him until she needed him next. He had given himself to her and he would never leave her. The black one. The slayer of demons.
Kali.
Acknowledgements
t seems terribly unfair that the only name on the front is mine. I did not write this book alone and what you have in your hands is the work of many, some of whom I’d like to thank here and now.
Firstly, Sarah Davies, my agent and guru. She and the gang at the Greenhouse Literary Agency have been here when I first proposed Ash and have stood by both of us on this extraordinary Indian adventure.
Then the captain, Nick Lake. It’s not often you meet an editor who can see what you’re trying to do even when you can’t. He and the rest of the HarperCollins team understood that when all was said and done, this book needed to be ‘bad-ass’.
Big thanks to my film agent, Jerry Kalajian. He’s a larger-than-life character who reminds me that stories are all about passion, and Jerry’s got it by the truckload.
I’ve many friends who’ve added their thoughts and opinions to this story and none more so than John Jennings. It was he who reminded me that while it was Ash’s journey, we could always do with more Parvati!
Alongside John has been Kristian, who’s heard about all of Ash’s trials and tribulations over the last two years, and no doubt will be hearing more. His advice and encouragement cannot be rewarded enough.
I’d like to thank Jane for keeping me constantly supplied with almond croissants and coffees for what must be the third book I’ve written at her splendid cafe, Tea West.
I’ve had great support from booksellers, librarians, bloggers and readers, too many to mention. Apologies I can’t thank you all individually. But I’d like to give a big shout out to the children’s department at Foyles – Neil, Sam, Jen and Jo.
Finally, I save my biggest thanks for my family. For my patient and loving wife, for my two daughters (my eternal muses), my sisters and my parents. All I am I owe to you.
Other books by Sarwat Chadda:
Devil’s Kiss
Dark Goddess
Copyright
First published in paperback in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2012
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Sarwat Chadda asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
ISBN 978-0-00-744732-9
ASH ♦ MISTRY AND THE SAVAGE FORTRESS. Copyright © Sarwat Chadda 2011. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © DECEMBER 2011 ISBN: 978-0-00-744733-6
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