Ash Mistry and the World of Darkness

by Sarwat Chadda

  The heat was overwhelming. The thermostat had been set at sauna level and steam hissed from bronze floor vents, clouds obscuring the furthest corners of the gallery.

  Ashoka’s stomach tightened until he could barely stand, the blood pounding in his temples. His heart hammered and, yeah, he thought he just might have a cardiac. Parvati took his hand. Hers was cool, dry and firm. How could she stand it? He gulped, tried to wet his mouth, but it was stone dry. He tried to laugh it off. “Oh, I get it. There’ll be this fiery head, but it’ll turn out to be some old git hiding behind a curtain, right?”

  “You’re not in Oz,” said Parvati.

  “Parvati.” The steam ahead trembled and a massive black silhouette stood on the other side. “Welcome.”

  How big was it? It refused to settle into a single shape, or at least not one Ashoka understood. It could be humanoid, and maybe four or five metres tall, or it could be long and serpentine, as great as the mountains.

  Yeah, there was definitely a pain in his chest. Breathing hurt, as if his ribs were being crushed. He stood, hand in hand with Parvati, drenched in sweat and fear.

  “Stop it, Ti Fun. Come out and talk.”

  Oh God, no. He could barely stand it here already. Ashoka backed away, wanting to run back into the lift, but Parvati held him.

  “Very well.”

  “No,” whimpered Ashoka. “Stay where you are. Please.”

  The vents stopped. The distant humming of the fans faded to silence and the clouds dispersed. The shadows coalesced into a single, distinct shape.

  The pain clenched around Ashoka’s heart.

  The last of the clouds parted and there stood Ti Fun, the dragon of the skies.

  But instead of a massive fire-breathing dragon covered in scales, there was a ten-year-old Chinese boy wearing a Kung Fu Panda T-shirt. He pushed a pair of round spectacles up a stub of a nose. Then he pointed one finger imperiously to the floor. “Kneel before me and tremble, mortal.”

  Ashoka stood there, gobsmacked. He’d been so frightened he’d thought he was going to faint. Or die.

  “Were you just winding me up?” Ashoka stared at Parvati. “That’s not funny.”

  She burst out laughing. “Your face!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ashoka knew his mythology; after all, he’d been playing Dungeons and Dragons for years. It was a well-known fact that dragons could change shape, could adopt any form.

  But considering Ti Fun was one of the elementals, shouldn’t his human form be some jade-armoured warrior? Or some kung-fu sifu type? At the very least, an inscrutable mandarin in flowing silk robes.

  He should definitely not be some snot-nosed kid who barely came up to Ashoka’s elbow.

  Ti Fun sipped at his vanilla milkshake. “I know what you want, Parvati, but my hands are tied. Savage has made a deal with the Court. I cannot interfere.”

  “After all the trouble he caused you in the Opium Wars and you’re just going to let him off?” She was angry, but holding it in. “The man grew rich through the misery he brought upon your people.”

  Ti Fun frowned. “I didn’t say I liked it, but firstly, it was a long time ago, and secondly, he’s much, much more powerful now. We can’t risk a war with him.”

  “I don’t believe it. You’re scared of him!”

  “Remember you are my guest, Parvati,” said the boy coolly. “Why don’t you stay here? Out of the way. I can protect you. Let Savage make his mischief. He can’t hurt China.”

  “Was that the deal? He gets the rest of the world, and you four keep China?”

  “What is there outside that we could possibly want? This is the Middle Kingdom, the land between heaven and hell. It is all that matters.”

  Ashoka listened to them argue, feeling very much a third wheel, but taking in as much as he could. He gathered that Toad worked for the Court and had strict instructions to stop Parvati from coming to Hong Kong. This was all part of the deal Savage had struck with them.

  “Why doesn’t Savage want us here?” asked Ashoka.

  Ti Fun didn’t reply. He sucked on his straw, pushing it around the cup.

  Parvati leaned closer. “Yes. Why is that?”

  “He didn’t want you interfering with his … business.”

  Ashoka leaned forward. “What business?”

  “This is not something I discuss with mortals.” Ti Fun glanced over at Parvati. “Really, you are too indulgent with them.”

  Ashoka stood up. “Has this got anything to do with my family?”

  Ti Fun just shrugged. “Why would I care for the fate of a few humans?”

  Ashoka saw red and, marching up to Ti Fun, slapped the cup out of his hand.

  A blast of wind swept him off his feet and hurled him across the room. He whacked against a few of the pedestals, knocking them over. Priceless porcelain vases shattered and statues crashed to the floor. Ashoka jumped up, dizzy, but with a heavy iron statue in his hand. He glared at Ti Fun.

  Blue scales shone upon Ti Fun’s body, now transformed into a tall, sinuous being four metres tall, still humanoid, but with a wild shimmering mane of white, a halo of lightning crackling around it, a towering hybrid of human and dragon. The claws were transparent glass and each a metre long. It drew one across the centre of a marble table and it fell into two equal pieces. “Imagine what these could do to you, mortal.”

  Yes, he should be scared; he should be petrified. But this was about his family, and Ashoka wasn’t going to back down. “Where are my parents? Where’s my sister?”

  Parvati helped Ashoka up and stood beside him. She took the statue out of his hands, though. “Tell him, Ti Fun.”

  The boy was back. It took less time than an eye-blink. But even in human form the power still shone about him, an aura of unimaginable strength. He kicked one of the shards of pottery. “All right. For old time’s sake I’ll tell you where Savage is keeping the mortals, but after this we are quits. I can’t have this getting back to me.”

  “Tell us now,” insisted Parvati.

  Ti Fun sighed. “Lamma. It’s one of the outlying islands. Savage has a large research facility there. That’s where you’ll find your family.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “There’s a huge fence,” said Ashoka, peering through the night-scope.

  “Let’s hope it’s not electrified,” said Parvati.

  “There are dogs. Massive ones.”

  “Let’s hope they’re not hungry.”

  “And guards. Loads and loads of guards. With guns.”

  “Let’s hope they’re bad shots.”

  “Bad shots? They’re probably all ex-SAS marksmen.” Ashoka lowered the scope; this was too depressing.

  “I told you to stay behind and leave this to me,” said Parvati.

  “They’re my family.” If Lucks and his mum and dad were on that island, past the fence, dogs and guards, he was going to get over there and find them. He’d been up for twenty-four hours, more, but every nerve was on overdrive. Ashoka couldn’t rest until this was done.

  Parvati and Ti Fun had struck a deal. The dragon would get them to Lamma and have a boat waiting to collect them afterwards and take them somewhere safe, but that was it.

  So here he and Parvati were, at the docks on the south side of Hong Kong Island, climbing into a sampan.

  The boat rocked as Ashoka stepped in. It wasn’t much bigger than a rowboat, but had a covered deck and a side paddle, manned by a wrinkled old lady. For a secret mission to break into a high-security super-villain’s headquarters, it was not scoring high on the James Bond-o-meter. Unless the old woman was a ninja.

  One of Ti Fun’s men in black passed down a heavy canvas bag. It rattled, and Ashoka didn’t need X-ray vision to know there was some serious weaponry inside. The gangster gave him a gold-plated grin, then joined his brothers in the waiting Mercedes.

  Ashoka tried to get comfortable in his wetsuit. Not happening. “And this is going to succeed … how?”

  Parvati wound
her braid into a bun and pinned it in place. “Cos we’re the good guys?”

  “Easy for you to say; at least you look the part,” he said. Jeez, the suit was tight in all the wrong places.

  “And what part is that?” She buckled a sheath to her leg and flipped a Fairbairn-Sykes commando knife into it. Then she straightened and stretched. The effect was very different from his own.

  “You look like an angel of death.” The black neoprene covered Parvati from ankle to throat and she was as sleek as a missile. “Look at me. I look like a blown-up bin bag.”

  “Hardly. And you know what they say – chunky is hunky.”

  “Blimey, Parvati, was that a compliment?”

  Her eyebrow arched. “A small one. Get over it.”

  “Given the choice, they’ll shoot at me. I’m twice your size.”

  “Suits me fine.” Parvati picked up a mask with a snorkel attached and tried it on. “But you know what they also say – the bigger the gun, the worse the shot. Spray and pray. Just pull the trigger and hope to hit something.”

  “That’s the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Be careful of the man who has just the one shot. He’s the one who’ll make it count.”

  The old woman handed Ashoka a Chinese-made AK-47 from the canvas bag. He took it and almost fell overboard. It weighed a ton. He’d go straight to the bottom if he tried swimming with that. “Haven’t you got anything smaller?”

  She gave him a Walther PPK. “Oh, yes,” said Ashoka.

  “Oh, no,” said Parvati, taking it off him. “You’ve got your weapon.” She tapped on the watertight case with his bow and four arrows.

  “A gun would be better, don’t you think?”

  “Leave the rough stuff to me, OK?”

  Ashoka sighed, but took it. “I’m such a Ron.”

  “A what?”

  Didn’t Parvati know anything? Ashoka pointed to himself. “Well, it’s obvious Ash is Harry, you’re Hermione, and I’m Ron Weasley. The crappy sidekick.”

  Parvati frowned. “I thought you were Robin or something.”

  “I wish. Robin’s really cool. The original, Dick Grayson, well, he’s grown-up now, and as badass as Batman. And the new Robin is Damian, trained from birth by the League of Shadows to be the greatest assassin of all time. Nope, I’m the Ron in this trio.”

  “Well, if you have fantasies of any romantic developments between the two of us, you’d better quash them right now.”

  “Obviously. You’re in love with Harry. I mean Ash.”

  Parvati dropped her own backpack. She snatched it back up and put it on, clearly flustered. “We are so not having this conversation. Ever.”

  “I never really understood why Hermione fancied Ron in the first place. I mean, who ever goes as Ron to a Halloween party? Nobody.”

  “Let’s focus on the problem at hand, shall we?”

  “Sorry, I babble when I’m nervous.”

  “I’ve noticed.” Parvati tossed over a mask and fins.

  The old woman handed Ashoka a spear-gun. He looked at Parvati. She shook her head. He handed it back.

  The island of Lamma lay about a mile away over calm, dark green water. The chemical plant dominated the island. Two steel towers rose a hundred metres into the air, their silver skins ringed with red aircraft-warning lights. Floodlights lined the beach and there were cameras all along the fence. The complex had roads, endless elevated walkways and huge pipes running for miles, crisscrossing between laboratories. There were huge tanks and cylinders some forty metres tall, filled with who knew what chemicals. Guards patrolled with dogs and the staff wore white protective suits with full-face visors. There was a helicopter landing pad and a dock where four ships were moored. The nearest floated low in the water and Ashoka watched a trio of cranes load a mountain of metal crates on to its steel decks. The ship had seen better days, better decades, with a patchwork of rusty panels along its hull and black smoke belching from its funnel. The name painted on the prow was ‘Pandora’.

  “That doesn’t bode well,” said Ashoka. “Pandora unleashed all the evils on mankind.”

  Parvati sat on the edge of their small boat. “You ready?”

  Ashoka joined her and the boat tilted dangerously low. He smiled weakly. “The backpack’s heavier than it looks.”

  “Sure it is.” Parvati put her palm against her mask and rolled backwards into the water.

  Ashoka took a few deep breaths as he sat hunched on the side. Then he went over.

  Bubbles surrounded him as he hit the water and he clamped his mouth tight as he flailed about. The bubbles shone like silver balloons as they rose and popped upon the moonlit surface. He kicked with his fins. They pushed him up and a second later he was blowing seawater out of his snorkel.

  Parvati bobbed a few metres from him. She pointed to a cluster of rocks. “We’re going there first.” She adjusted her snorkel and kicked off.

  The backpack had air trapped within it and was buoyant, making the swim easier than he’d expected. Still, it was weird just kicking with his feet rather than using his arms. Ashoka kept them tucked under him, cradling his elbows as he followed Parvati. The sea below was utterly black, endless and frightening. Who knew what was down there? He knew it couldn’t be that deep as they were close to an island, but it was so mysterious. He decided to keep his eyes on Parvati, her fins languidly stroking the water with barely a splash.

  Ten minutes later they crawled on to the seaweed-covered rock. Barnacles dented his kneecaps as he struggled up. Parvati reached into his backpack and took out the binoculars. She scanned the beach and then handed them to him. “See over there? By the sand dunes?”

  Ashoka looked and saw. “A drainpipe. Looks about a metre in diameter. Our way in?”

  “Yup. Notice the discoloured rocks? The foam in the water? That’s not rainwater it’s pouring out but chemicals. It’ll probably melt our faces off, but I don’t think we’ve got much choice.”

  Parvati slid back into the water. “Come on.”

  The drainpipe ran all the way down into the water and along the sea floor for about fifty metres. The drain opening was ten metres down. “That’s where we’re headed, into the underwater opening, and we’ll crawl our way up.”

  “I can’t hold my breath that long,” said Ashoka. “We should have brought scuba gear.”

  “Do you even know how to use it?”

  “Nope.”

  They both bobbed in the dark sea. The shore, every grain of sand floodlit, was temptingly near. But the fences looked a lot taller this close up and they were topped with razor wire. Ashoka had spent enough time with his dad to recognise a junction box. The fence was electrified. So no way in there.

  “You need to hyperventilate,” said Parvati. “Take a few quick deep breaths, then head down and bum up. Kick for all you’re worth and you’ll feel pressure in your ears the deeper you go. Just wiggle your jaw. It’s called equalising. OK?”

  “What?”

  “Just hold your breath as long as possible.” Then she was gone. Her flashlight came on and Ashoka watched a small spot of white light descend into the black.

  “If I die, this is totally your fault,” he said. Then he took five deep breaths and thrust his head down and bum up. And kicked.

  And kicked. Ashoka chased after the spot. It shone on green, algae-covered metal. The drainpipe. The sleek black figure of Parvati waved at him. She was so small and so far away. Ashoka kicked harder, but it felt like he wasn’t moving. The only thing he could see was the spot of light.

  Air bubbled from between his lips. His chest and lungs ached. He kicked harder. Why wasn’t he getting any closer?

  He kicked and kicked and his legs burned. He pulled at the water with his hands, trying to claw his way to the bottom.

  Something slapped him in his face and he dragged through the tendrils of some aquatic creature, catching his fingers in its trailing strands. Water seeped into his mask, blurring his vision until he could see t
hree separate lights ahead of him. It sloshed back and forth across the glass.

  A sharp pain dug into his ears and he wiggled his jaw, releasing the air pressure trapped in his eardrums. The weight of water squeezed his chest and he let out more precious breath.

  How much further? He’d told her he couldn’t do it!

  Oh God, should he turn around? Head back up before it was too late?

  Ashoka turned and faced upwards. It was as dark above as it was below. Which way to the sky? He couldn’t tell. Panic beat within him. He turned around, searching for the flashlight. Where was it? Seawater flooded his mask and stung his eyes.

  Ashoka locked his teeth together. His lungs were on fire and he needed to breathe. His hand scraped across metal and light blasted his face.

  Parvati grabbed his backpack straps and pulled him in. Ashoka bent low, but still knocked his head as he entered the drain.

  They swam through opaque muck. It was green and brown and slimy and sticky, and red lumps of who-knew-what floated within it. It smeared his lens and Ashoka dug his nails into the rough steel and crawled upwards, pulling with his fingers and kicking simultaneously. His skin stung and he had a hideous mental image of it melting off, burning and bubbling away and the bones underneath crumbling like charcoal sticks. He’d turn into a blob of human fat and blood, washed out to sea and gobbled up by the local fish.

  That was if he didn’t drown first.

  How much further now? He needed to breathe …

  Ashoka banged his knee against stone. The mask was torn off his face.

  He blinked and saw steps. He was kneeling on them. He gasped and air flooded back into his lungs. It was foul with the stink of chemicals, bitter and sharp and stinging, but he didn’t care. It was air. Parvati had her arms around him and hoisted him up on to a steel gantry, where he collapsed.

  She dropped down beside him, pulling off her own mask and throwing it aside. She lay there, staring upwards and breathing deeply herself. “That was further than I thought.” She narrowed her gaze and shone the flashlight around the walls and steps. “Where are we?”

  They’d come out at the bottom of a shaft, five metres in diameter and about twelve high. The walls were slick concrete and four big outlets were spilling all sorts of foaming foulness into it from holes in the wall. “An interceptor pit – a big one.” Ashoka groaned as he got up. Wow, he’d never complain about school sports day ever again. The winter cross-country run was a piece of cake compared to what he’d just done. He took out his own flashlight. “See those smaller holes? Those are drains from the rest of the factory. They all spill into here and get redirected out to sea via the main drain, the one we’ve just crawled up. There should be a maintenance hatch right …” he pointed the light at a ladder fixed to the wall and followed it straight up to a circular metal panel in the concrete ceiling, “… here.”