A jet of liquid erupted from the dragon’s throat and as it touched the first cylinder it burst into white, searing flame, ripping through the steel walls as if they were tissue. The gas within exploded and the air was suddenly black with smoke, to be whipped away by the hurricane winds.
Flames licked the dragon’s belly as it slid over the burning wreckage. Huge gouts of fire trailed out of its mouth as it cast an infernal wall back and forth over the factory. Pipes melted, guards were transformed into black dust and the stones under their feet to glass.
The second dragon climbed higher into the storm, lightning caressing its steely body, before it twisted and poured volcanic fire and poisonous gases over the fleeing guards and remaining buildings. Its tail swiped the remaining chimney, which crashed into the sea, shattering two more of the ships into so much wreckage.
“Look!” shouted Lucky. “A boat!”
A powerboat bounced upon the waves. Razor-sleek and bone-white, it cut through the turmoil and swung to a stop a few metres from shore.
Standing on the top deck, his coat flapping about him, was Ti Fun.
“That’s our ride,” said Parvati.
Ashoka took a firm hold of Dr Wells. “Move,” he ordered.
“I … I can’t swim!”
Ashoka dragged the scientist along.
The smell of burning petrol mixed with the salt and chemicals, which were sweet and foul. Clouds of green smoke and yellow rolled out of laboratories and tanks and ruptured pipes. Men dissolved as acid showered over them, and others burst into brilliant, blinding flames as the dragons swooped and annihilated.
Ashoka ushered the other prisoners in a line towards the boat. He clutched his bow in one hand as he led a couple of kids into the roiling waters. He could barely see for the intense rain. He could barely hear for the winds. But he heard the scream.
A thing, scaled but humanoid, easily three metres tall, waded through a wall of fire. His scales were stubbly green and as thick as armour. A long snout extended from his face and jagged uneven fangs stuck out at all angles. His reptilian eyes locked on Ashoka and he roared as he lifted one of the prisoners over his head. And ripped him in two.
“Look out! Mayar …” shouted Parvati.
Ashoka watched in terror as a guard trying to flee the flames stumbled into Mayar’s way, the demon swatting him as if he was no more than a fly, crushing the man’s chest with one blow.
The ground shook as Mayar’s feet beat down, and Ashoka fumbled his arrow, just grabbing it before he dropped it.
He was twenty metres away.
Parvati shouted to Ashoka to run, but there was no time. Lucky was just behind him, and if he didn’t stop Mayar, he’d eat his sister whole.
Ashoka drew the bowstring, felt the fletching caress his cheek.
Mayar rose up before him, towering over Ashoka. His fetid breath, all offal and slime, choked him. His entire body was covered in impenetrable armoured scales.
Ashoka sighed. His body seemed to sink into itself. He gazed down the shaft to the brilliant steel arrowhead and the rakshasa before him.
I’ve been here before.
He raised his aim, past the chest, past the throat.
Wait.
Mayar widened his jaws so his tongue hung almost over Ashoka’s head.
Wait.
The claws spread wider and wider. There was no escape.
Parvati screamed, but she seemed far away. It was as if another will guided Ashoka.
Wait.
Spittle flew from Mayar’s fangs across Ashoka’s face. He raised his aim just a notch higher.
Now.
His fingers just slipped the bowstring.
The arrow pierced Mayar’s palette. The soft inside of his mouth was unprotected by scales, his only weak spot.
How did I know?
I just did.
The arrow tore through, deep into Mayar’s brain.
Mayar dropped to his knees, already dead. His eyes rolled over and blood dribbled from his slack jaw.
Ashoka was suddenly shaking. What had just happened to him? He stared at the dead demon, at the arrow and at the bow in his hand. He felt weak. If he’d been a second too soon, a second too late, he would have been ripped apart. Something, someone, had forced him to hold his nerve until the very right moment.
He stumbled back, away from the dead demon and into the water.
Ashoka’s dad scooped a terrified Lucky into his arms as they all waded into the sea. Ti Fun swept his hand and the winds and waters instantly calmed around his boat. Men, the gangsters from earlier, threw out ropes and hauled in the fleeing refugees like fishermen bringing in a catch, fishermen in designer black. Ashoka swallowed a hefty mouthful as the wash from the boat covered him and for a moment he went under into the black darkness of the water, but Toad latched his big sticky palms on him and lifted him out as if he was a minnow. Ashoka collapsed on the deck, coughing. “Thanks.”
Toad grunted and gazed contemptuously with his big bulging eyes.
“Out to sea,” commanded Ti Fun.
The engines roared and the boat bucked as the prow rose out of the water. Vast spewing jets of water shot from the rear underwater turbines and then, crashing against the storm, the boat accelerated away.
Ashoka, clutching the side, looked back.
All the ships burned. A vast wall of fire surrounded the Savage factory. The chimneys were gone and instead huge clouds of smoke rolled up into the sky. The rain hissed and steamed upon the blazing world, and still the pipes and labs poured more chemicals and petrol and fuel on to the dragons’ flames. Wreckage, both crates and bodies, floated in the inky waves.
Guards and lab technicians clustered along the beach, waving and calling for help. Some waded out and decided to swim for it, despite the huge waves.
Winds screamed and the rain smashed upon Ashoka’s bare flesh. His shirt was torn and small cuts bled from all over his chest. He hadn’t noticed.
They should sting, but they don’t.
Then he turned away from the smoke, fire and death.
The boat bobbed gently in a glass-flat sea. Stars shone upon a velvet black sky and a moon, curved like a maharajah’s tulwar, rested low above the water.
Some of the party had already been offloaded to waiting sampans. Others had been dropped off on a quiet, empty beach on the neighbouring island of Cheung Chau. Then the pilot had revved the engine again and taken the rest of them out, beyond the outlying islands, beyond the lights of Hong Kong, until they found themselves in an empty, featureless sea, nothing on the horizon but moon-glinting waves.
Lucky slept, her head on Mum’s lap. She, also asleep, rested her head on Dad’s shoulder. He had his arm around them both, hugging his wife and child as if he would never, ever let them go for the rest of his life. They’d been given blankets and food, but they looked exhausted, crushed by their ordeal.
Ashoka had not yet had a chance to talk to them; it had all been so insane, with the storm and the refugees and the dragons. Ti Fun’s goons had been surprisingly sympathetic, offering tea and comfort to the terrified locals. Ashoka had helped where he could. But what could he really do?
But there was plenty of time to talk with his family now they were safe.
Ashoka met his father’s gaze, and his dad smiled weakly. But his eyes were haunted and wary.
Ashoka went over to him. “You OK, Dad?” he asked.
Dad’s smile broke into a low laugh. “Now, that’s not something a son should need to ask his dad, is it?” He patted the seat beside him. “Come up here.” He pulled him close. “What, too cool to give your old man a hug?”
“What happened, Dad?” asked Ashoka, letting himself be pulled in.
Dad sighed and squeezed Ashoka hard with his free arm. “I thought … I thought I’d never see you again, son. How did you find us?”
“I had help. Parvati.”
“That girl? Who is she?”
“Would you believe me if I told you she’s R
avana’s daughter?”
“Yesterday, no, I wouldn’t have. But tonight I watched dragons – real, live, non-CGI’d freaking dragons – burn a factory to the ground. So, yes, you tell me she’s Ravana’s daughter and I do believe you.” Dad ruffled his hair. “I hardly recognise you.”
“Nothing’s changed, Dad. I just had to toughen up a bit. So I could find you.”
“Is it over?”
Ashoka glanced across at Parvati. She and Ti Fun were deep in conversation.
“It is for us,” said Ashoka. “We’re going home.”
His dad closed his eyes. “A police car stopped us. Said the bridge was closed and sent us down a dead end. Men, I think they were men, pulled us out and chucked us in a van. You know what? I kept on thinking it was a mistake. Mistaken identity or something, and they were kidnappers after some rich family and had got us by accident. I thought if I explained it to them, they’d understand and let us go. How stupid is that? I … I live in a world of logic and common sense, Ashoka. I live in a world of reason, of reasonableness. Where things make sense and people are reasonable. Things like kidnappings and human experimentation and dragons do not exist in my world. How can you prepare yourself for things like that?”
“I don’t know. You can’t.”
His dad said nothing, he just looked at him oddly. Ashoka straightened his collar. “What?”
“You seem different, son. You didn’t freeze, or panic, or stand around wishing it would all go back to normal. You accepted this world. It’s almost like you belong in it somehow.”
“Last week my only encounter with dragons was when we played the Mountain of Doom at Josh’s house. The only heroics I’ve ever been involved in were through my tenth-level paladin.”
“And yet you saved us all.”
“That was mainly Parvati. I’m the comedy sidekick.”
“You got us all out of that building; you killed that crocodile beast, got everyone on to the boat. You are a hero, son. To me anyway,” said Dad.
But Ashoka’s attention was already elsewhere.
One of the gangsters who had been guarding Dr Wells had left him and gone over to talk to Ti Fun and Parvati, and even from here Ashoka could see that Parvati was not wearing her happy face. All three descended, and the gangsters cleared a space around the scientist, who looked frightened and very alone.
“What is it?” asked Ashoka, walking over.
“It’s not good,” said Parvati. “We’ve found out what Savage is planning. Tell him,” said Parvati to Dr Wells.
Dr Wells cleared his throat a couple of times. “Savage has been perfecting his RAVN-1 for the last few months. He intends to launch it over the major population centres around the world. The bursts will contaminate vast areas and infect millions of people, mainly children, who, to all intents and purposes, will become demons. The rest will react differently. Most will suffer brief but intense periods of psychotic rage, ranging from violent urges to uncontrollable cannibalistic hunger. The long-term effects haven’t been determined, but will range from mild physical deformities to deep-seated and permanent psychological trauma. In short, layman’s terms – Savage intends to drag the world into chaos.”
Ashoka stared at the scientist. How could he talk about destroying the world so calmly? He was stunned. It was beyond evil.
Ashoka’s dad walked over, peering at the screen. “These are the monsoon patterns.”
Dr Wells nodded. “RAVN-1 will enter the ecosystem via rain and soil. The world’s food production will be tainted by the drug for generations.”
Ashoka’s dad glared at him. “And you sound so proud.”
“Do you have any idea how much work and money and effort has gone into this? Even if I say so myself, the project deserves a Nobel Prize.”
“Like the one Savage already has for world peace,” said Parvati bitterly.
Ashoka looked at the swirling patterns on the screen. They covered all of India and half the Near East. “Savage doesn’t need to do this. The world’s quite insane enough without him.”
“This science could have been used to provide anti-viruses across the whole world,” said Dad. “Good grief, you could cure so many people. Think about it. The cure for polio, measles, whooping cough and yellow fever and so much more, just growing in fields and running in taps and falling out of the sky. You could prevent so much misery.”
“But misery is where the profits are,” said Dr Wells.
Dad grabbed the man and pushed him to the boat’s side. No one tried to stop him. Tears ran down his cheeks and his face was pale with rage. “The things you’ve done, we’ll never escape them. God, the screams, and the way they begged. They even begged for you to kill them in the end. How could you?”
“I was … just …”
“We’ve already established that line’s not going to save you,” said Parvati. She put her hand on Mr Mistry’s shoulder and he let Dr Wells go.
“Those ships were meant to deliver the drug, weren’t they?” asked Parvati.
Dr Wells nodded. “Yes. The delivery manifest is there on the data stick.”
“And they’re at the bottom of the sea and the chemical factory’s destroyed, and we know where the others are, right? So is it over?”
“There were five ships,” whimpered Dr Wells. “The Lazarus sailed out two weeks ago.”
“To where?” asked Parvati, her green eyes glowing.
“I don’t know, believe me.”
Ti Fun tapped his fingertips on the screen. “I will find out. We have friends in the docks. Someone will know, but it will take time.”
“What about the other factories in China?” asked Ashoka.
Ti Fun’s gaze was dark. “We’ll take care of them. The Savage Foundation will cease to operate in China by dawn.”
Ashoka joined his dad on the other side of the deck. He was staring out to sea, quivering with rage and terror. He chewed his lips and fought back the tears. “Don’t look at me like this, Ashoka. I’m such a failure.”
“Dad, it wasn’t your fault.”
“Oh, God, Ashoka. I failed. I failed so badly. I couldn’t protect them, Mum and Lucky. I couldn’t do the one thing a father, a husband, should do: protect his family. How can I look at them, be happy with them, knowing how useless I was? How impotent. I failed so badly.”
What could he say?
There was a huge splash and they both turned around. Parvati and the others were looking over the edge.
“What was that?” Ashoka asked. “Where’s Dr Wells?”
He ran to the side. The water lapped and a few bubbles popped on the surface. But not many.
Parvati widened her eyes to imply surprise. “Dr Wells, overcome with remorse, decided that he couldn’t live with himself a moment longer.”
Ti Fun nodded and gave a melodramatic sigh. “Such a waste. But the guilt was too much.” He looked to his men. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
The gangsters, all lined up, nodded in unison.
“Most tragic,” said one.
“We tried to stop him but he overpowered us,” said another solemnly. “Much stronger than he looked.”
Ashoka looked at them. “So the six of you, and you, Parvati, and you, Mr Dragon, could not stop a feeble old man from diving overboard?”
Parvati smiled.
Ashoka looked into the black depths. Nothing stirred. Dr Wells was, if not sleeping with the fishes, certainly having a serious lie-down. “Fair enough.”
Chapter Thirty
Ash fought. He didn’t need to see – they were all around him. He swung the manacles, the chains clanged and struck flesh and bone. Screams choked the air and the stench suffocated him as much as the press of the bodies. He was torn and bloody from claws and tusks and fangs, but he couldn’t fall, there wasn’t any room, and Ash’s cries joined the chorus of pain. Hands wrapped around his wrists and ankles and threatened to tear him apart but, soaked and slimy with blood and gore, he slipped from their grasp and rammed the now-spl
intered bone shard deep into the massive worm. A multitude of cries burst out and Ash twisted.
He fought, he bled, he retreated and fought and bled again. He kicked and smashed and stabbed, even as he wearied beyond exhaustion, and yet the Carnival of Flesh came on relentlessly, abandoning bits of its body to thrash and slither over the blood-soaked ground.
The rest of it, the immense single mass of amalgamated flesh, beat and pushed, squeezing itself through the narrow passageway, heaving against the rocks, cracking deeper crevasses into the fractured stone. Broken fragments fell, cutting Ash’s shoulders, but what were they compared to the tears and rips that covered him already?
The ground buckled and Ash tripped as a thin chasm opened up along the floor. He winced as his foot caught in the crack, but it barely stopped him. Any second now the entire tunnel was going to come down.
Ash crawled backwards as the Carnival pushed itself through the thin gap, hissing furiously while Ash caught a few seconds’ rest. The noxious fumes from the hundreds of twisted bodies covered him like a poisonous cloud. What he’d give for a lungful of fresh air.
The Carnival struggled and heaved, stone split, the cracks shattered in a web pattern across the surface and a deep rut opened in the crumbling floor, as loud and as sharp as a gunshot. A shower of dust and small stones fell.
Ash didn’t need Marma Adi to know what was about to happen. He just needed to give it a little help.
A cluster of eyes stared at him and the pulsing mass of flesh and bile and foulness hesitated. Perhaps in one of the heads there was a glimmer of something other than madness. Caution.
The rumbling stopped and the walls settled down.
Ash ran up and swung the manacles into the monstrosity. It screamed as he hit it again and again. He kicked one of the faces and rammed his fist into a bulbous belly that quivered from the blow. He needed it angry.
“Come on, I’m right here,” he said. “Yummy yummy.”
The Carnival thrashed and Ash dashed back as a forest of hands and claws reached out for him.
Fresh air. A narrow, crooked slit had opened up during the battle and a breeze blew in. He couldn’t see it, but the coldness of the air was delicious relief from the cloying damp heat. Goosebumps rose over his bare arms and Ash threw the manacles and bone aside and ran. Head down and left hand against the wall, he stumbled and tripped, but kept his face towards the wind.
Ash Mistry and the World of Darkness Page 16
