The War of the Grail

by Geoffrey Wilson

  Was the person outside speaking?

  He shook his head. Perhaps he’d imagined the voice. He must have.

  He lifted the latch and slid one of the shutters open just a fraction. The dark night was alive with rain. Trees tossed and swayed a few yards away. But from this position he couldn’t see the doorway.

  He would have to open the shutter wider. That could risk alerting whoever was outside. But he had to do it.

  His heart quickened as he edged the shutter open further and inched his head out. The wind howled and blasted rain in his face. The droplets beat in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. Blinking away the moisture, he looked along the side of the cottage … and saw a figure hunched beside the door.

  So, he’d been right. But what was the person doing? Listening? Waiting for Jack to come out?

  Whatever the case, Jack would have to take a closer look.

  The figure’s head appeared to be turned away, so Jack lifted himself up, swung his legs over the window sill and splashed down into the mud outside. The rain battered him, drenching his nightshirt and plastering it to his back. His hair was stuck to his scalp.

  He tightened his grip on the knife and crept forward. The mud squelched and sucked beneath his naked feet, but there was little chance of him being heard over the wind.

  The figure didn’t move. Good. Jack hadn’t been seen. All he had to do now was sneak forward a few more feet and then he could pounce.

  He moved faster, the rain pouring over him. A flash of lightning lit up the walls of the huts nearby for a second. More thunder racked the sky.

  The figure remained still.

  And now Jack could see that the person was sprawled before the door, as if they’d collapsed. They appeared to be wearing an overcoat and some sort of hat.

  Jack froze. That was no hat. It was a turban. A scarlet, army-issue, officer’s turban.

  The figure was a Rajthanan.

  Why had a Rajthanan officer sneaked into Folly Brook? A dark thought crossed Jack’s mind – had the army already arrived in Clun? That was unlikely. They couldn’t have marched from Ludlow in such a short space of time. And in any case, why would an officer come all the way to Folly Brook alone?

  Jack couldn’t wait any longer for answers. He charged the last few feet, leapt upon the man and held the knife to his throat. The man was strangely limp and offered no resistance. He did nothing other than give a low moan.

  ‘Who are you?’ Jack shook the man.

  The figure groaned again and slowly turned his turbaned head.

  Jack recognised the thin, bearded features through the slanting rain.

  It was Kanvar.

  The Sikh’s face was gaunt and his cheeks were streaked with dirt. But he was unmistakeable. His eyes wandered about, as if he were drunk, before they finally focused on Jack.

  Jack dropped the knife in surprise, and it plopped into a puddle. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  The rain beat against the side of Kanvar’s face and dribbled down from his beard. He opened his eyes wider, gripped Jack’s shirt and tried to speak, but all that came out of his mouth was a hoarse croak. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed against the door.

  5

  Elizabeth placed a blanket over Kanvar’s shoulders. The Sikh sat shivering before the flames in Elizabeth and Godwin’s hut. His sodden tunic, cummerbund and trousers had been removed and he instead wore a loose nightshirt that Godwin had lent to him.

  Elizabeth went to untie his turban, but he raised his hand to stop her.

  ‘But it’s soaked through,’ Elizabeth said.

  ‘It is all right,’ Kanvar said. ‘A Sikh must wear a turban.’

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and flicked a look across at Jack. Jack nodded at her to leave the turban. He knew the Sikhs had as many strange customs as the Rajthanans.

  The storm outside had eased, but the rain still rattled on the shutters and the wind still whined through the cracks in the walls.

  Jack cast his eye around the fire. The little group that had been sitting about the hearth a few hours earlier – Saleem, Elizabeth and Godwin – had reassembled. Jack hadn’t wanted to wake them, but he’d needed help with Kanvar, who’d seemed near death.

  At least Kanvar was now less pale and was able to sit upright unaided.

  ‘You’re looking better,’ Jack said.

  Kanvar stared back with his wide, fish-like eyes. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘I became weak. I had to use many powers in order to get here. I had so little strength that I was unable to even open the door to your cottage.’

  ‘You’re lucky I heard you out there. And why were you wearing that Rajthanan uniform?’

  ‘A disguise. I can no longer wear the uniform of a Sikh anywhere in England. It has become too dangerous. Vadula’s forces are spread too widely. Too many spies …’

  Kanvar’s voice trailed off and he stared into the flames. The fire wheezed and smoked as the green wood burnt.

  Jack cleared his throat. ‘You took your time coming back.’

  Kanvar started, as if he’d been woken from a dream. He gazed at Jack and the others in turn, as if seeing them for the first time. Finally, he said, ‘I am sorry it took me so long to return.’ He looked down. ‘After I left, I faced many obstacles which prevented me from coming back. It was difficult for me to come here even now. But I knew I must.’

  ‘Why? Why have you come back?’

  Kanvar frowned. ‘I promised that I would. Also, I wanted to know whether you were alive, Jack.’

  Jack half smiled. ‘As you can see, I am. I managed to use Great Health in the end. It saved me.’

  ‘That is very good. I had been wondering how far you had progressed.’

  ‘Progressed?’

  Kanvar glanced at the others, then stared at Jack again. ‘Do they know about your special ability?’

  ‘You can talk openly here,’ Jack said.

  ‘Good.’ Kanvar looked at the fire again, seemingly transfixed. He said nothing further.

  Jack shot a look at the others. They were all frowning as they stared at the Sikh. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at Jack again.

  ‘Kanvar,’ Jack said. ‘What do you mean about me progressing?’

  Kanvar looked up in surprise once more. He licked his lips and then seemed to remember where he was. ‘Oh yes. I wanted to know whether you had mastered your special ability yet. Whether you could now use it at will.’

  Jack scratched the back of his neck. ‘Unfortunately not. I used Great Health in Scotland. Then I used Find Water last week. But every other time I’ve tried to learn a new yantra, I’ve failed. I can’t control my ability.’

  ‘I see.’ Kanvar nodded slowly. ‘There is no pattern to it?’

  ‘Not that I can see.’

  ‘Ah. It remains a mystery. I perhaps had hoped for too much. At least you are alive.’

  ‘I’m alive, but we’re in a bad situation. The army have invaded.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I saw many English soldiers on the move as I made my way through Shropshire. But I will do all I can to help.’ Kanvar patted his satchel, which lay on the floor beside him. ‘I have brought more war yantras. For your students.’

  ‘I’m not sure the students will have much time to learn them,’ Jack said. ‘But thank you. We need all the help we can get at the moment.’

  ‘Indeed. Things are very bad. Unfortunately, I cannot stay long. I must leave by tomorrow night.’

  ‘That’s a pity,’ Jack said. ‘One day isn’t much time.’

  ‘I know,’ Kanvar replied. ‘But I have an … important matter to attend to.’

  ‘What important matter?’

  Kanvar frowned and stared into the fire. His lips worked, as if he were muttering to himself, although he made no sound.

  ‘Kanvar,’ Jack said. ‘What important matter?’

  Kanvar kept his eyes fixed on the flames and spoke slowly. ‘I must go t
o Scotland. I am looking for something.’

  Jack sat back. ‘That’s strange. Saleem and I were in Scotland just a few months ago. We were also looking for something. The Grail.’

  Kanvar looked up quickly. ‘That is a strange coincidence.’ He rubbed his beard. ‘The Grail. An old story, I believe. Did you find it?’

  ‘No. We found something else, though.’

  Kanvar stared at Jack. ‘What did you find?’

  ‘A place where many sattva streams meet. Many powerful streams.’

  Kanvar gave a guttural cry and leapt to his feet, flinging the blanket aside. He moved so suddenly that Godwin jumped, scrabbled for a branch and raised it as a club. Even Jack flinched for a second and thought about grasping a weapon.

  Kanvar’s eyes were wild, although he looked faintly ridiculous in nothing but a knee-length nightshirt and a turban. ‘This is astonishing. Truly astonishing.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Jack said.

  Kanvar stared at Jack with his gleaming, unblinking eyes. ‘I believe you have found what I’m looking for.’

  ‘What? The meeting point?’

  ‘Yes,’ Kanvar whispered. ‘You must come with me to Scotland. Show me where it is. I must know its exact location.’

  ‘Hold on.’ Jack raised his hand. ‘I can’t go to Scotland. The army are coming. I’m not leaving my people at a time like this.’

  Kanvar crouched down again, licked his lips and fidgeted. ‘I understand. But I must locate the meeting point.’ He looked around at the others assembled about the fire. ‘It might be our last hope of defeating the Rajthanans.’

  Elizabeth frowned. ‘So, this meeting place is a weapon. Is it the Grail, after all?’

  Kanvar looked at his hands. He clenched his fingers into fists and released them again. A frown coursed across his forehead. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, ‘I know very little of this Grail. But I can tell you the meeting point is not in itself important. What I need to know is its location. I must mark it on a map.’

  Jack gave a small cough. He felt odd, as if everything were unreal, as if he were in a dream. ‘If it’s a map you want, I might be able to help.’

  ‘What?’ Kanvar’s voice was a whisper once again.

  ‘I have some maps,’ Jack said. ‘The meeting place might be on them. I found them when I was in Scotland.’

  ‘Who created them?’

  ‘A Rajthanan siddha made some of them. He was doing some surveying in Scotland. The others are from a siddha called Mahajan. He was using the meeting point for one of his projects. He might have marked it down on his charts.’

  Kanvar shivered and his eyes went moist. He stood again, and the blanket slipped to the ground. ‘I must see these maps. At once.’

  The rain hissed on the roof of Jack’s hut. A strong gust of wind made the building’s timber frame creak like a ship. Jack paused as he stood before his old, battered chest. His tunic was drenched from the storm and dripped on to the earth floor. He wiped the damp hair from his eyes, then opened the chest’s lid and rummaged inside. Finally, he drew out the maps he’d brought back from Scotland, which he’d rolled into a tube and tied with string.

  He turned round. Saleem and Kanvar sat before a newly lit fire. Godwin and Elizabeth had stayed behind to look after Cecily and snatch what sleep they could.

  Kanvar was a strange figure in his turban, sodden nightshirt and nothing else. He’d been in such a rush to get back to Jack’s hut that he’d charged off into the night without even putting on his boots. His bare feet were now smeared with mud. He shivered – perhaps from the cold, perhaps from excitement – and watched intently with his saucer-like eyes as Jack returned to the fireside.

  Jack squatted down and handed across the maps. Kanvar looked at the rolled-up sheets as if he were handling a bar of gold. He stroked the paper with his finger, then carefully untied the string and unfurled one of the charts, spreading it out over the rushes on the floor. The yellow firelight throbbed on the white paper.

  Jack looked across and noted the dense scrawls of ink. He couldn’t understand any of it – he’d never been able to read Rajthanan maps. He’d meant to take the charts to the library at Clun Abbey but hadn’t found the time.

  ‘Can you see the meeting point?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Not yet,’ Kanvar said. ‘But this is promising.’

  Kanvar rolled the first map aside, then spread out the second. His eyes flickered over the markings. He traced certain lines with his finger, muttering to himself in a language Jack couldn’t understand. He seemed enthralled, as if he were studying a profound mystery.

  Jack glanced across at Saleem, but the lad was gazing at the fire, lost in thought.

  Kanvar crackled the second map to the side and began studying a third. His eyes widened and he bent closer to the paper, eager as a cat stalking its prey. His spidery fingers flitted from one spot to another.

  The fire popped and a spark jumped on to the chart. Kanvar jerked and gave an almost comical yelp. His hand shot out and flicked the spark away before it could leave more than a small black spot on the sheet.

  He continued poring over the map.

  Then he froze and began trembling. His hand shook as he prodded his finger at a point on the sheet, making the paper crinkle.

  A strong squall rattled the shutters on one side of the hut. The door tapped incessantly in its frame.

  ‘What is it?’ Jack asked.

  Kanvar tightened his jaw and looked up. ‘This is it.’ His voice was a mere whisper, so quiet Jack could barely hear it.

  ‘The meeting place?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Yes. Marked here. Up in Scotland. The exact location. The exact coordinates.’

  ‘Good,’ Jack said. ‘So, you’ve found it. Are you going to tell me what the hell all this is about now?’

  A frown quivered across Kanvar’s forehead. He looked at the ground and mumbled something to himself.

  After waiting for perhaps twenty seconds, Jack said, ‘Are you going to explain yourself, or do I have to wait around all night?’

  ‘Yes.’ Kanvar looked up suddenly. ‘Yes, I will tell you. But it will take some time.’

  Jack stood with Kanvar in the middle of the glade. A chorus of birds sang in the surrounding trees. Bees murmured and a gentle breeze combed the grass. The storm had passed during the night and the sky was now a sharp blue. The sun baked the wet earth and the scent of the rising steam mingled with the smell of warm grass and wild flowers.

  ‘Look, Kanvar,’ Jack said. ‘I need some answers now.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Kanvar said. ‘Soon.’

  They were about a quarter of a mile from Folly Brook. Kanvar had insisted on coming here before he explained anything further. The Sikh seemed fully recovered now, despite only sleeping for three hours. Jack, on the other hand, ached with tiredness. But he was eager to hear what Kanvar had to say.

  ‘Walk forward,’ Kanvar said.

  Jack frowned. ‘What?’

  ‘Just a few steps.’

  What was Kanvar playing at now?

  Jack thought about protesting, but he’d gone along with Kanvar’s wishes so far. He might as well go along with them for a little while longer.

  He took three steps forward and slipped into a powerful sattva stream. The invisible substance swirled about him and sent his skin quivering. The sweet scent tickled his nostrils.

  He turned and looked back at Kanvar. ‘It’s a sattva stream. So what?’

  ‘This one flows back down to Folly Brook and through the House of Sorcery.’

  ‘Thought as much. Never followed it up the valley this far, but I would’ve guessed that.’

  ‘It flows on after the village, all the way to Clun Valley and even beyond. And there are streams like this all over England, are there not?’

  Jack sighed. ‘Of course. I know—’

  ‘Let me show you something.’ Kanvar crouched on the ground and fished a sheet of paper from his satchel.

  Ja
ck walked over to him, sliding out of the stream again. He squatted down and watched as Kanvar unfurled the sheet and flattened it over the grass.

  ‘Looks like a map,’ Jack said.

  Kanvar gave him a small smile. ‘Well done. You are learning. In fact, it is a map of this region.’ He pointed at a spot near the centre of the paper. ‘This line here is the Folly Brook. These markings here are the hills to either side.’

  Jack hunched over the map. He could see a squiggling line which was presumably the brook. He couldn’t see anything that looked like hills, though.

  ‘Don’t worry about the detail,’ Kanvar said. ‘Just note this blue line here.’

  Jack followed Kanvar’s finger to a line that curved gently to the right side of the brook.

  ‘That,’ Kanvar said, ‘is the sattva stream you just walked into. I marked it down myself the last time I was here. Blue is always used for sattva.’

  ‘If you say so. What’s the point of all this?’

  Kanvar swept away the chart and retrieved another from his satchel. He laid it out before Jack, saying, ‘This map is smaller in scale than the last. It shows an area a mile across. It’s of a part of Yorkshire. Take a look. See if you can see it.’

  ‘See what?’

  ‘Look.’ Kanvar pointed at the map. ‘The sattva streams.’

  Jack peered at the map. A blizzard of lines confronted him. He could make no sense of them. This was ridiculous. ‘Enough. I need some answers. Now.’

  ‘Please, try again.’ Kanvar flicked away a beetle that had crawled on to the paper.

  Jack gritted his teeth and stared again at the confusing mass of markings. Kanvar had told him the blue lines were sattva streams, so he concentrated on those. There were many of them, perhaps hundreds, wriggling all over the chart.

  What was he supposed to see?

  He was about to give up when he noticed something. He sat still and stared more closely. The blue lines covered only the central part of the map. There were none at all in the four corners of the sheet.