Ash Mistry and the World of Darkness

by Sarwat Chadda

  “The city’s waking,” said Parvati. “They’ll come when the last rays fade from the sky.”

  Ash sat down beside her so his heels dangled a hundred metres above the rocks.

  “We’ll be ready,” said Ash.

  “We’ll be as ready as we can, but we aren’t enough. Two patrols haven’t come back and the guards on the southern tunnel are gone.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “Killed or run off, who knows? The result’s the same.” She continued to look out over to the setting sun. “Why did you come, Ash?”

  “Where else would I go?”

  “We’re going to die here. Tonight. You do know that, don’t you?”

  “I’ve fought against worse odds. Thermopylae, for instance.”

  “You died there too.” She made a face. “Actually, I think I might have been responsible. I was fighting for the Persians. It was a confusing time for me.”

  “What about Troy? We were on the same side in Troy.”

  “Yes, the losing side.”

  Ash frowned. “I see a theme developing here.”

  “You’re the Eternal Warrior. You’re not the sort to die peacefully in your bed.”

  “You would have thought that with all this experience I’d be better at surviving.”

  “Sometimes survival isn’t the point.” She looked at him and she had tears in her eyes. “I’ve really liked being here with you.”

  Ash put his palm to her cheek and wiped the tear away. “We’ll meet again. Reincarnation has its benefits.”

  “But you and I won’t be the same. I knew you as Rama. As Ashoka, as a gladiator, and many others. This one, you …” she poked his chest, “… is my favourite. You know what I mean.”

  “More than Rama?”

  “Rama? Everyone loved Rama. How could you not? He was perfect. But you know how most felt in his presence? Unworthy. How could you measure up to what he was?”

  “So you’re saying I’m not perfect?” Ash clutched his chest. “Now you’ve really hurt my feelings.”

  “Oh, just shut up, Ash.” Parvati bit her lip, gazed at him with her eyes narrowed and filled with doubt. “There is so much I want to say to you, but it would take a lifetime to say it. I wish I had a lifetime to be with you. All these centuries and yet it all comes down to this, a few moments beneath a dying sun.”

  Ash’s heart beat hard and his breath held in his throat. He’d said things to Rani, things he should have said to Parvati. His lips were so dry. He didn’t want her to say any more, but he wanted, hoped, desperately, she’d say the things he couldn’t find the right words for, speak for both of them.

  C’mon, Ash. Just tell her.

  A horn blasted out below. The sun had dropped beneath the sea and the last of its red light faded from caressing the clouds, letting them turn black.

  Cries rose from the dark city, and drums and howls and screams. Torches danced and whirled in feverish exaltation.

  Ash got up as he heard footsteps approach.

  Ashoka stood at the cave mouth, bow in hand. He pointed towards Kampani. “We’re needed below.” Then he turned and left.

  Ash brushed the dust from his trousers. His head was spinning with what Parvati had just said. How could he answer? If anyone felt unworthy, it was him. He should go after Ashoka.

  “Wait, Ash.” Parvati stood beside him. She took his hand and pressed it against her cheek, her eyes closed.

  If there was a moment he wanted to last for ever, this was it. Ash felt the warmth of her skin against his and watched the strands of her hair gently drift in the breeze.

  Parvati kissed the back of his hand, then let it go. What else was there to say? Nothing.

  More and more burning torches joined the vast star field gathering across the city. Thousands of spots of light approached the cliffs. Dark wings swooped overhead, heralded by brutish, coarse shrieks and cries. Banners made of flayed skins flapped on frames of bone.

  The demon nations marched to war.

  Chapter Forty-four

  “Parvati and I will hold the main gates,” said Rani. “You and Ashoka are to protect the people within the caverns. The rakshasas will creep in from every opening and crevasse. Then they’ll make smash and grabs from the tunnels. Spiders and scorpions will form the vanguard.”

  “Why?” asked Ash.

  “They can get into the smallest places and are poisonous. They’ll cause a lot of mayhem very quickly. But they’ll try to take control of the bigger tunnels to allow the other, larger predators in. Once that happens …”

  “All bets are off,” said Parvati. “Save who you can. There are some fishing boats hidden in a cove about ten miles north along the coast. Try to get as far from here as possible.

  Ash was confused. “Why haven’t we loaded people up on them already?”

  Parvati sighed. “There aren’t enough, Ash. And who would stay and be left behind? Look around you. There are so many families here and we’ve only boats enough for a hundred, maybe not even that.”

  Rani nodded. “We fight until there is no hope.”

  “There’s always hope,” said Ashoka.

  Parvati looked at the men gathered in the cavern. They wore armour, carried their weapons and torches, gripping them so hard their knuckles were bone white. Every face, every eye, held fear, dread and determination. They were fighting for their loved ones, their friends, their families. Ash knew every one of them would fight to the bitter end.

  “Follow me,” said Parvati. She looked back at Ash. “Goodbye, Ash.”

  Ash forced a smile, trying to look as casual as he could. “See you later.”

  Arms and armour rattled and clanged as the troops, roughly half the warriors present, tramped out behind the two demon princesses. The rest looked to Ash and Ashoka.

  Ash wasn’t wearing any armour. He’d been trained in Kalari-payit and that meant being fast and flexible. He had two weapons, his katar and a sword, both newly sharpened.

  Ashoka drew out the golden arrow.

  Ash took a deep breath. “You ready?”

  Ashoka didn’t respond. He just turned the arrow around and around between his fingers.

  “Savage is coming, Ashoka. I know he is. This is the end, and he’ll want to witness it. He’ll want to see us die and will want to gloat.”

  “And I’ll take him with this.” He raised the golden arrow.

  “No matter what, that’s to be saved for Savage. The Kali-aastra is the only thing that can take him out. Understand?”

  Ashoka nodded. “Understood.”

  “It all comes down to you tonight, I’m afraid,” said Ash. “We both know that.”

  “You’re the Kali-aastra too,” said Ashoka.

  “Not any more. It’s not awakened. The last time I awakened it I had to sacrifice myself. I’m not sure that trick will work twice.”

  Ashoka nodded, and turned to his men. “We’ll take the upper levels.”

  Ash watched him leave. So confident, so inspiring. No wonder they thought Rama walked among them. With a man like that fighting beside you, you might believe you could beat anyone: man, demon, even god.

  More horns echoed from the distance. The men with him looked around the cavern, trying to work out which direction the sound was coming from. It didn’t matter. It was coming, and that was all they needed to know.

  Ash drew his sword and turned to his people. “I feel I should have some speech prepared or something. I don’t, sorry. I’ve fought since the day man first picked up a rock. I’ve fought for every cause there’s been. Freedom. Tyranny. For glory. For gold. For a patch of earth. It’s all rubbish.” He tested the blade. Someone had taken a lot of care making it very, very sharp. “Just think of your wife’s touch, your child’s smile, your mother’s kiss. These are the only things worth fighting for, worth dying for. You’ll see sights that’ll turn your guts, make you shake, make you want to flee. Fear is natural, but you must stand fast. Think of them, and you’ll find the courage
to challenge the gods.” He settled the sword in his hand. “Come with me.”

  He tried to summon faces to his mind. He had fleeting thoughts of his parents, of Lucky, the family he loved. But one face came clearest of all, the one person he’d fought for throughout the ages.

  Parvati.

  Chapter Forty-five

  Total war. No respite. No quarter. No pity, compassion, humanity. Ash fought until his sword broke, his katar was blunted, and then he picked up rocks. Everything was a blur. He fought until his body was a mass of pain, muscles exhausted, skin cut and bleeding.

  That was the only way to fight demons.

  He watched men torn from limb to limb, their heads severed from their necks, organs ripped out by claw and fang. The rakshasas were deformed monstrosities, walking nightmares of chaos, half glimpsed in the firelight of the tunnels and caves. Spiderish things scuttled across the ceilings, tangling their victims in webs and reeling them away into the dark. Wolves stalked the chambers, fresh blood on their snouts. Vast waves of rats scurried through the passages, squeezing and overwhelming the fleeing refugees, consuming them with thousands of bites.

  There was a cluster of men with him now. They paused, catching their breath, trying to work out which way to run, whose screams to follow. Ash trod on a discarded blade, a single flat slice of steel with one edge sharpened and cloth wrapped around the end for a handle. Sweat turned to steam on his burning, feverish skin. The caves became a furnace, filled with hot, stale air. He’d gathered refugees, wedged them between his men for their protection.

  “Time to break for those boats,” he said to no one in particular. He patted the nearest man on the back; his name was Nabeel, he thought. “Make for the lower levels and come out via one of the caves down there. Then stay close to the cliffs and you should be able to make your way to the boats. Understood?” He waited. The man didn’t move. “Well, go on then.”

  “You’re not coming?”

  “What? And miss all this fun?” said Ash. “Good luck.” He slapped the man on the back and set off in the other direction.

  Where were the others?

  Ash wove through the dark tunnels. Sounds of fighting trembled from down paths, through rents in the rock, out of secret chambers. He moved steadily upwards, towards the main gates. The tunnels widened and the bodies piled up.

  No sign of Savage. He’d been so sure he’d be here, coordinating the battle, watching it unfold. But perhaps he was so sure of victory he couldn’t be bothered to witness it.

  Ash was going to die without any chance of revenge. That angered him.

  Claws struck rock and a pair of yellow eyes shone ahead of him. The creature hissed and in the dimness Ash saw black scales flex as it tensed its legs. Then it charged, a giant lizard, low to the ground, thrashing its tail from side to side, long red tongue darting between its jaws.

  Ash flicked up a discarded spear. He jumped sideways, kicked off the wall and thrust the tip square between the creature’s shoulders at the base of the neck. Spinal column severed, the lizard collapsed. Ash stood on its head and heaved the spear all the way through. The beast gurgled and coughed up dark red blood. Ash twisted the spear back out.

  He ran until he met a crowd of refugees. They were fleeing, pouring out of side tunnels into the wide thoroughfare that led to the main gates, carrying what few belongings they had or just running empty-handed but with blind panic in their eyes. They knocked over those who were too slow, and Ash had to push and shove to help a man back up before he was trampled. There were lupine howls from behind and the people ran like sheep.

  We’re being herded.

  But he couldn’t stop them. Ash shouted for them to turn back, but no one could hear him over their own screaming.

  Then, carried by this tide of fear, Ash stumbled out into the main cavern and to the third gate.

  Two Carnivals of Flesh tore at the walls, huge, cumbersome behemoths crouched so as to reach into the low-roofed area of the rear of the central cavern. Harpoons bristled over their bodies and another boomed from its launcher, punching through a metre of melded flesh, sacks of blood bursting out, the broken bodies twitching and falling off the Carnivals as they reassembled themselves around the fresh wound.

  Parvati and Rani fought side by side upon the battlements, knee-deep in the dead. The urumi sang its song of slaughter and Rani’s fangs, her two lethal tulwar swords, reaped heads and limbs with each swing.

  Ash watched Ashoka jump from ledge to ledge, his bow launching arrow upon arrow. He kicked off a spider rakshasa and knocked back a pair of rodent demons with a thrust of his bow. Men fought beside him, fighting beyond their exhaustion and fear with broken weapons or their bare hands. Ashoka was the eye of the storm.

  But he can’t beat them all, thought Ash. There are just too many of them.

  The refugees flooded out into the melee, pushing from the rear, unaware of the vast demon army in front of them, just desperate to escape those behind.

  The gates themselves had been ripped down. Ash struck left and right, but it made no difference; when one demon fell, another two, another four, took its place.

  Ashoka spotted Ash, and the danger. He signalled and shouted for the people to stop, but it was hopeless; his voice was drowned out by the cacophony of battle.

  Metre by metre they were pushed forward. Soldiers abandoned their posts to protect the swelling mass of frightened civilians, their own people.

  What could he do? It had turned into a rout. Ash grabbed a woman who was trying to hang on to a dozen crying children. “Stick with me!” he shouted. She stared, then dumbly nodded.

  The first and second walls were utterly demolished. The trench was so thickly filled with dead demons you could just walk across it now. Ashoka scrambled down the cliff face and beat his way to Ash’s side. His face was a mask of blood, yet he smiled. “Still alive, I see.”

  “Pleased to see you too,” said Ash. “The Kali-aastra?”

  Ashoka drew it from his quiver. “Safe. But …”

  “No Savage yet.”

  Then the refugees stopped. The soldiers paused and Ash pushed his way forward.

  In front of the cave mouth stood, waited, the demon army, swollen so large that there was hardly a patch of sand visible from the cliff all the way to the sea. Countless torches illuminated the hungry, bloodthirsty faces of jackals, of bears and crocodiles and things neither one animal nor another, but built out of evil fury and hate. Swords and crude knives and claws and talons and teeth caught the amber light of the flames, and the moon shone down on horns and scales and fangs.

  Behind them the howls lessened; their job was done. The cave complex had been overwhelmed. Ash caught a glimpse of movement above him and saw the roof was teeming with black hairy spiders. The wings of bat rakshasas beat the air as they swooped in and out of hundreds of alcoves and cracks too high and inaccessible for humans.

  Parvati and Rani joined him. Rani’s armour hung by its straps and Parvati’s scales were soaked with gore. Ashoka stood ready, another arrow notched.

  “What are they waiting for?” asked someone.

  Ash looked around. The ruined gates were filled with their people. Even the elderly men had weapons ready. Children hefted rocks in their small fists. How many of them remained? A few thousand? But every one of them was going to go down fighting. They’d gone far beyond fear and now all that remained was steel resolve. “The rakshasas are afraid of us.”

  Parvati shook blood out of her hair. “They want to finish this, but they know however they do it, it will cost them. No one wants to be the first to die.”

  Rani spoke. “There’s been enough death.” She stepped forward, into the no-man’s-land between the two armies.

  What’s she doing? They’ll kill her.

  Ash stepped forward, but Parvati stopped him. “Let her try.”

  There were about twenty metres between them, a space where dwelt only the dead, demon and human alike. And into this silence went Rani, swords aloft, he
ad proud and defiant.

  A spear thrown, an arrow fired or rock hurled true, a sudden charge, and it would be over. But no one moved.

  The only sound was the waves beating against the empty ship hulls down on the shore.

  “You know me,” said Rani. She didn’t shout but her voice carried to every ear. “You knew my father. Many of you fought beside us in our last war against humankind. You know what followed.

  “War is coming; this is but the first battle. The seeds we sow tonight on these sands, seeds of hate, of cruelty and pain, will only lead to the most bitter of harvests.” She cast her gaze over the demon army. “Is that what you want?

  “Rakshasa or human – I don’t choose one side over the other. I choose both. Rakshasas, we are creatures of eternity. We remember and know so much, have acquired wisdom over centuries. And how do we use our wisdom? In games of tyranny. Humans, we live for the moment. Our passion drives us to achieve so much in our brief lives, to reach such heights, but how we squander that fire and chase the most temporal of things: wealth, fame, illusions that last as long as a candle flame.

  “You have a choice today, and only today.” Rani turned her swords in her hands. “Take up your weapons and slaughter each other. One will conquer the other by dawn’s light, but the victor will know no peace. No restful sleep will come to him, nor to his family. There will be no comfort and he will watch his children grow with one eye on the door and one hand on his sword, ever afraid. He will fear uprisings, he will fear rebellion, he will fear the night his slave comes seeking revenge for the defeat they suffered tonight. It might come in a year, or a hundred, but it will come. You have lived long enough to know this is the truth.”

  Rani thrust both swords into the sand. She buried them until they were half-blade-deep. Then she stepped back, holding out her hands to show she was defenceless. “And this is the other choice. Choose this and you will sleep peacefully. You will rest knowing the one you fought today guards you as you slumber. You will watch your children grow to joy, knowing that the man you once sought to kill will protect them as he would his own. Two choices. Follow the path of war. Or follow me.”