Adri was having other problems as well. He found himself looking at Maya during their pit stops. He gazed at her for long times, at her olive skin and dark hair, at her sharp features. Most of the time no perverted thoughts crossed his mind; he would simply look at all the way they had come, would think of Maya as he knew her before the Ancients took her. That always got him thinking about Maya’s secret agenda—he knew Fayne could clear some doubts, but it was useless asking the assassin. At other times, he had thoughts about Maya that he knew he shouldn’t be having. He banished them as soon as he thought of them—he did not give them time to fester in his mind. They didn’t bother him up to a point, they were natural; the Wraith, however, saw through his eyes and began to give him hell about it soon enough. It was amazing how Gray did not catch Adri gazing at his sister.
Gray was the one who had to change Maya’s bandages, and he acted very, very reluctant about it whenever he had to do it. He would comply in the end, but his reluctance became well known. Adri occasionally thought he heard Fayne snicker at Gray, but he couldn’t be sure. The assassin was always dead serious when he talked.
They started avoiding the main roads as they neared the Lake. They stuck to small alleyways and shortcuts like they had before. It took more time because of all the winding and occasional blocked path, but they were comparatively safer. The most eventful thing that happened to them was at Tangra, about eight hours away from Beleghata, which was at the outskirts of the Lake of Fire. Having travelled the whole day, they retired for the night by breaking into a boarded up house.
Fayne kicked the door open and moved inside, disappearing into the darkness. Maya was with Gray and Adri, who moved just within the front porch and waited for the assassin to return. Adri readied a revolver just in case, but he didn’t think he would need it; the area was silent and still, not a sign of life anywhere. No one wanted to live this near the war zone, and quite naturally so.
The familiar glint of the bug-eyed visor was visible soon. ‘Empty,’ Fayne said. They entered and Fayne put the door back in its place roughly. They spent some time barricading the door with furniture, before settling in their own separate places, doing their own separate things. Maya was put down on an old dusty sofa. Adri busied himself with making new bullets, Fayne sat down in a meditative posture, and Gray brandished his violin, something he hadn’t had the chance to play in quite a while.
Adri walked up to him and snatched the violin immediately. ‘Risky, the noise,’ he said, tempted to smash the unholy instrument.
‘Give that back!’ Gray shouted, angry. ‘There’s nobody listening!’
Adri did not agree, but eventually he gave in to Gray’s nagging. They were all tired and testy. They would have to be careful, but he could afford to let this one thing be. It wasn’t really necessary to take this one little thing away from Gray. It could be the only thing he had left.
Gray polished the violin for a while and cleaned the dust carefully, before he took his bow with the grace of a master and started to play. A long, thin screech.
Adri dropped a bullet. ‘What the—’ he started.
After the initial cacophony in which Gray claimed he was rusty and Fayne did not react at all, remaining in his meditative pose, Gray continued to play.
Death, Gray thought as he played, a curious happening, rather a curious state, something one could slip towards any moment, any second. Yet, there was life. Bloody idiot, had he ever cared that his sister breathed, that she talked? There could have been more happiness, perhaps. Fewer doors slammed. Fewer angry words exchanged. Goddamn it all, all the memories, forcing themselves out now that he was weak. Now that he needed her forgiveness. For every single mistake.
They had been walking all day. All the buildings they passed, desolate, the candle burning behind curtains, one in a hundred. So desolate. Ghosts murmuring, eyes watching them go, they who would make no difference. He wished he could be there, among those people, with Maya, with nothing to do with the Tantric and the assassin. Nothing at all, living out their lives, in a seemingly immense struggle, perhaps, but a life lived out, with Death waiting only at the very end. Wishful thinking. Here, there was movement. They had been moving, and moving. There was nothing else, nothing but the next mission; he did not want to take another photograph in his entire life. He wanted Maya back, he wanted out. He was forgetting what they had set out to do, that somewhere, Abriti was walking on the soil of this very city. How would he face Dada? Would they even make it to the Lake of Fire?
He needed to focus. Adri seemed focused. The Tantric was managing somehow, he was holding on to his promise, to his word. He had not cracked yet, and Gray could not afford to crack either. Must hold on. Must hold on. Prioritise. Maya would be saved. Of course. She had to be saved. He would see to that.
Gray played slowly and mournfully, agonisingly so, with many imperfections. Adri loved western classical music, and Gray’s attempts were murder to his ears. Still, he chose not to protest anymore. Gray played for another full hour, until the first dead man broke in through a window.
Adri and Fayne were up immediately. They looked at the spectacle before them—the walking corpse, the zombie that had broken in through the window.
‘What-What-’ Gray exclaimed.
The creature was disgusting. It had been dead for quite a while now—its rotten skin hung loose, its hair had dried up, eyeballs sunken deep within the sockets. It still wore its old clothes, but they were faded and dirty and tattered. It was moving, slowly, but with extreme ferocity. It opened and closed its mouth to emit noises, but its dead throat did not function.
Adri closed his revolver’s chamber and unleashed three holy rounds into the revenant; it collapsed noisily. Fayne walked over to the window it had broken in through and peeped out.
‘More,’ he said.
Adri, who was reloading, asked how many.
‘About fifty to sixty,’ Fayne said.
The building did not have a back exit, but Fayne made one and they exited through, beating a hasty retreat from the dim-witted revenant. Gray did muster up the courage to apologise to the other two, saying he had no clue his music would wake the dead. Adri knew, however, that revenant were woken up only at graveyards—and there were no graveyards nearby to his knowledge. Where then had the living-dead come from? He decided to think about it later; either way, they were too close to the Lake of Fire, and he needed a plan. They ran across other revenant on their way to the Lake, and if there weren’t too many, Fayne summarily finished them off.
‘Tortured souls,’ Adri told Gray as Fayne hacked away at revenant who were trying unsuccessfully to surround and take bites of the assassin. ‘They cannot depart as they’re very attached to their bodies; thus they reanimate, often helped by a festering curse or a Tantric—but often just the magic in the air along with the will to live again is enough.’
‘Wasn’t that Mazumder’s thing as well? Attached to his body, wanting to live on?’ Gray asked.
Why that little—
‘Yes. But revenant are mostly everyday people without the magical training needed to go down the road of the Wraith.’
‘Sounds like a horrible fate. They’re zombies!’
‘Yes. And there’s lots of revenant out there.’
‘Okay. Take it easy,’ Adri shouted. ‘We’re not drawing any weapons.’
‘You better not,’ the Commando shouted back.
The first sign of reaching the Lake of Fire would, of course, be the Commandos, MYTH’s army of mass-produced soldiers, equipped with increasingly sophisticated armour according to rank. It was tough, almost impossible to sneak past these guys. The most logical way, Adri figured, to meet Kaavsh was to let oneself get caught by the Commandos. One didn’t want a bullet through the head from some Commando sharpshooter who caught one sneaking.
The one they were facing right now was a sharpshooter. He was sitting on the fourth floor of an abandoned four-floor building. Adri and the others were in the street next to the adja
cent building, standing still.
‘Stand still,’ Adri said. ‘He’s packing a modified Sharps carbine. One false move and he’ll blow our heads off. Commando snipers are good.’
‘Hey, tell me something, Fayne,’ Gray said. ‘How do you face such an enemy? As in a sniper or something similar? Your blades can’t reach him in this scenario.’
‘He has to see me before he hits me,’ Fayne grunted.
‘Okay, supposing he’s seen you,’ Gray said.
‘I’m too fast for a sniper, myrkho,’ Fayne said. ‘He cannot possibly take me out while I’m moving.’
‘Supposing you’re still,’ Gray said blankly.
‘Why would I be still?’ Fayne asked. He sounded insulted.
‘Supposing you are,’
‘I wouldn’t be.’
‘Say it’s a hypothetical situation. You’re still and a sniper has you in such a standoff. What do you do then?’
‘Khabashud. Such a situation is against my training,’ Fayne said stubbornly.
‘And why do you call me myrkho? What does it mean? Would you like it if I call you Aladdin?’
‘Here they come,’ Adri interrupted.
A group of Commandos, about ten of them, were on their way. Gray looked at them and realised, almost immediately, that he had seen them before, in New Kolkata. Dressed in military green suits with protective jackets and helmets, they cautiously made their way towards the four of them, rifles raised.
‘Identify yourselves!’ a Commando shouted as they neared.
‘I am a banished Tantric,’ Adri said. ‘This here, is an Assassin of Ahzad, and this is a citizen of New Kolkata. The girl with us is in urgent need of medical attention.’
‘This is not a hospital, it’s a freaking war zone! You got the wrong address, Necromancer!’ the Commando replied.
Adri had hoped the Commandos would be more charitable; evidently not. Fine, he would have to take the chance of naming the Angel. They would obviously not recognise his false name, nor would they care for Gray’s possible revelation.
‘We have work with Kaavsh. He will know us by face,’ Adri said.
The Commandos froze. ‘Kaavsh?’ one of them asked.
‘Are you sure? If this is a ruse—’
‘Just take us to him,’ Adri said.
‘Who the hell is Kaavsh? They will know Dada—’ Gray began.
‘Quiet,’ Adri hissed.
Now the Commandos seemed massively unsure; all they did was stare. The leader snapped them out of it all of a sudden. ‘Search them and confiscate their weapons!’ he barked. The other Commandos nodded and started moving closer.
Fayne, who had been carrying Maya, tried to put her down.
‘Watch it!’ a Commando roared.
‘Oh no, no. He’s just keeping her down. She’s in a coma, man,’ Adri explained hurriedly.
Adri’s revolvers and Gray’s shotgun were the most visible weapons and were taken by the Commandos immediately. They ran into a snag when they told Fayne to empty out his weapons. Fayne had scores of daggers in his body and there was no point in emptying them out anyway—they would simply grow back. The Commandos panicked, however, and they made him empty out his daggers nevertheless. It took the better part of a quarter of an hour, and by the end of it, everyone except Maya was staring at the huge pile of red daggers, knives, and a couple of red short swords on the floor. Fayne was taking long, deep breaths. His patience was being tested. Obviously, he could not lose focus; but these Commandos were irritating him. Normally, he would not put up with such trivial issues, but being with Gray had helped him deal better with irritation. Finally, when the Commandos were done searching them, they were escorted down the road towards the MYTH camp.
A change from the usual silence that Old Kolkata had got them used to—distant gunfire, frequent, along with muffled explosions. The buildings were not too high this side of the city; apart from the few skyscrapers which were choked with snipers, all structures were partially or wholly destroyed by magical damage. They walked down a road, then through alleyways and more roads. They ran into yet more Commando patrols as they walked towards the camp, the place was filled with them. Everyone looked tired and grim, though they did not see any wounded—then again, this was just the outer circle of the Lake of Fire. This was where the MYTH camp was. This was where Kaavsh would most likely be found.
It had initially been a small football field, Adri realised when they reached the place; he could still see the goalposts on either end. Now it was crowded with a sea of tents, large and small, soldiers moving and sitting in large groups in and around. It reminded him of a typical war camp in the medieval times; how a besieging army would lay camp in an area while they whittled down a castle in the attempts of breaking through. They were still trying to do the same thing, and this was war.
The buildings surrounding the field were mostly empty, though they saw movements on certain floors, where the other troops were stationed. The field was evidently well watched and guarded. Groups of Commandos were already watching them; new arrivals attracted interest here. As they were taken near the field, Adri saw a man walking towards them, his black robes billowing in the hot afternoon winds. Adri recognised him. The smooth black hair and clean-cut goatee were unmistakable.
‘We have guests, it seems!’ the man shouted from afar as he made his way towards them. His tone was gleeful and there seemed to be a bounce in his step. His smile though, spoke of sadism.
‘Arshamm,’ Adri sighed, looking at him and pulling off a forced half smile.
‘Don’t smile,’ Arshamm replied, still grinning widely. ‘You don’t get to smile. You are banished and you are here, I have you now. You don’t get to smile.’
‘You know what happened was an accident,’ Adri said, still trying to maintain the smile, sounding dreadfully like someone pressing a lie forward.
‘Not an accident, Adri Sen. A lot of things it was, yes, but not an accident,’ Arshamm replied.
‘Does Adri do this to everyone?’ Gray whispered.
‘Shut up,’ Fayne said.
‘And you’ve brought guests!’ Arshamm exclaimed cheerily, looking at the Gray and Fayne. ‘Guests who, no doubt, have been fully convinced by you of the hospitable welcome they will get here!’
‘Our business is not with you,’ Adri said, the smile finally leaving his face.
‘And neither is mine. Lock them up, boys. And chain them while you’re at it,’ Arshamm said, still smiling.
‘Sir, they have come here to meet—’ a Commando started.
‘I do not care. They are outlaws and for their own protection, we should do what we do,’ Arshamm replied, talking fast. ‘You will now proceed to the red building and lock them up in the basement.’
‘Yes, sir,’ the Commando replied. The entire group changed its direction, moving away from the field and towards the adjacent buildings.
‘This is ANGEL business, Arshamm!’ Adri shouted at the top of his voice, all of a sudden. ‘You don’t know what you’re obstructing!’
‘Hardly,’ Arshamm said. He looked unsure for a moment, but then the expression was gone. ‘I don’t see how you would have anything of interest for them.’
Adri was the only one in the group protesting violently; the others had simply turned and started to walk. Adri struggled, refusing to walk and was pushed roughly with quick threats from the Commandos. Then a loud, deep voice broke the fray and everyone stopped.
‘You, Arshamm, are not the judge of our business,’ the voice said, clear and deep.
Everyone turned and saw a figure approach from the direction of the tents. Dressed in pure and complete black, the figure was tall and well-built—he walked with imposition, a long cloak wrapped around his shoulders, covering his entire back and front. One could catch a tiny glimpse of his boots beneath, coal black like the rest of him. He was fair-skinned and his face stood out in all the black that covered him; he had wild hair and black tattoos circling his piercing eyes, beneath whic
h was a black cloth that went all around his face and trailed down, hiding his nose, mouth and neck. Adri, with his Second Sight saw the wings. They were undoubtedly one of the largest pair of wings he had ever seen; they were folded neatly behind him—but that wasn’t what made him stare in awe. No, he stared because the wings were black, unblended black—each and every feather.
An easy enough description. This was the Dark Angel.
Arshamm turned around and froze. ‘I merely assumed—’ he began.
‘Know your place, Sorcerer,’ the Angel spoke without looking at Arshamm who stopped immediately. The Angel then, amidst the perfect silence, walked up to Adri.
‘And this better not be an excuse to escape our prisons,’ he continued, his bold voice echoing in the silence, his eyes transfixing Adri.
‘Our business is with Kaavsh,’ Adri said, trying not to stammer.
The Dark Angel stared at Adri and then at the others. Adri saw his gaze pause as he looked at Gray, and then at Maya. The siblings were here, and Adri knew that the Angel would have to honour the magical contract of their kind. Now he had permission to see Kaavsh, he had permission to see his wings in Second Sight.
‘Let them go,’ he told the Commandos, and then turned to Adri again. ‘Follow me.’
Wordlessly they complied. Adri winked at a sullen Arshamm as they walked past him and into the field. The Angel led them without looking back, and they followed through lanes of tents and busy men shuffling around with papers and maps and food and weapons; civilians as well as Commandos, and also the occasional Sorcerer or Tantric.
‘I don’t know where you’re going with this Angel thing, Adri,’ Gray hissed as they walked. ‘We should’ve just named my brother.’
Adri knew that in all probability, Gray was in for a very nasty revelation. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, the exact thing the Gunsmith had warned him not to do. It did not bode well with his conscience, and nor did it bode well with the fact that Kaavsh would be angry as hell with him. But there had been no other way, had there? Adri had seen this coming the moment he realised that they would have to give themselves up to the Commandos; he knew the eventuality of the fact that Gray would know his elder brother’s secret. He had known it all along.
Tantrics Of Old Page 27
