Destroyer of Worlds (ARKANE Book 8)

by J. F. Penn

  The foreman grabbed Asha's arm, steadying her as the moment passed and the men began to walk back towards the ship again, ready to break the piece down and winch it away. Their nonchalance implied such near-death was a regular event.

  They walked on further to a hut on stilts, raised above the mud so it had a view out to the ships unmarred by the proximity of the workers.

  "Your father trusted me to choose the most interesting things and leave them in here," the foreman said. "Should I continue this in future?"

  "Yes," Mahesh said quickly. "Nothing should change for now."

  Asha mounted the steps and pushed open the door.

  The room was divided into two, separated by a thick curtain. There was a long table under the window and a simple chair behind it, a red metal toolbox on one side, neatly closed. Asha put out one hand and touched it lightly.

  "Remember this?" She turned to Mahesh and he smiled back.

  "Of course, he used to get it out even if it was just to change a lightbulb. He was always a fixer. But what was he doing in here?"

  Asha flicked open the toolbox, checking in case the statue piece was inside. It was a long shot, but there had to be a reason this place had been so special to Vishal.

  Mahesh walked to the back of the room and pulled open the curtain to reveal a rack of shelves, each one jam-packed with items, a cabinet of curiosities from the ships. The shelving included a bunkbed, made up with simple cotton sheets and a wool blanket.

  "He must have come here to escape sometimes," Mahesh said. "Perhaps it reminded him of what life was like at the beginning."

  Asha smiled. "I can imagine him tinkering away at the table, looking out at the ships." She sat down on the bunk. "Sleeping here." She swung her legs up and curled on top of the blanket.

  There was a picture pinned to the bottom of the shelf below. Her father would have looked at it every time he lay here.

  The Taj Mahal. The iconic symbol of India.

  "Look at this," Asha said, scooting over so her brother could lie down next to her. It felt like they were children again, huddling in a den and hiding from the world. She could feel the warmth of him and for a moment, she wanted to lay her head on his shoulder and forget all the plans she had in place.

  "That's where he proposed to Mama." His voice was soft and Asha heard the hint of the little boy who had lost his mother so young. "She was performing there, dancing in a crowd scene for a Bollywood movie. He was still building the business back then so he wasn't rich, but she still said yes."

  "He never told me about that," Asha whispered.

  "He wanted you to be strong and forge your own path. He didn't want you starry-eyed at the thought of love." Mahesh turned his head to look at the picture again. "He loved the Taj. In fact, he was there when it was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1983. He advised as to how they could ensure it would stand up to the huge numbers of people who would visit."

  Asha looked up at the Taj, resplendent in white marble against the blue skies of Uttar Pradesh. If it had meant so much to her father, perhaps he had hidden another piece of the sculpture there. She would go to Agra next.

  Chapter 11

  Marietti lay on the hospital bed, his body prone and unmoving. But there was a flickering under his eyelids, lucid dreaming of a past that now came to haunt him again.

  Maharashtra, India. April 19, 1982. 2.43pm

  The sun beat down as they trekked along the path towards the caves of Ellora. Sweat dripped down Marietti's back, soaking the shirt he wore under his pack. He pulled the brim of his hat down further to shield his eyes and turned to see how the others were doing.

  Joseph Manfredi, his assistant from the Vatican Archives, trudged along several meters behind. His face was beetroot red and he still wore the permanent frown he had adopted since they had landed in Mumbai the day prior. Behind him walked Vishal Kapoor, a trusted local fixer and specialist on Indian archaeology, who had worked on a number of digs for the Vatican.

  All three men trailed behind Nataline Reed, a young woman of mixed Indian and British heritage whose brisk walk set the pace. Her specialism was rock-cut architecture and Hindu myth, although she was a devout Catholic from the southern state of Goa. She had long dark hair that curled around soft features and her eyebrows arched in a way that reminded Marietti of the Titian Venus of Urbino. Of course, that painting was of a nude and Marietti kept trying to banish the image from his mind whenever he looked at her. For the first time in his life, he regretted his love of art and how he could bring to mind any painting he had studied over the years. He tried to keep his eyes from Nataline's shapely behind as she strode up the hill, wishing he had time to stop and have a cigarette, or some coffee.

  "How much further?" Joseph shouted, unable to keep the tone of annoyance from his voice as he brushed yet another fly from his face. The man was clearly at home in the cool, dry stillness of the Vatican Archives, but out here in the heat and abundance, noise and smells, he was lost. Still, Marietti couldn't do this alone. He needed help and until they found something of significance, this motley crew was all he had.

  "Not long, Mr Manfredi, sir," Vishal said with a smile, giving that distinctive Indian head-wobble as he spoke. He was a jolly fellow and Marietti instinctively liked the man, with his willingness to help and the knowledge he so clearly had about Indian archaeology.

  They walked around a final corner and Marietti's eyes widened at the huge temple complex. The word 'cave' could not possibly describe the rock-cut edifice in front of him. It reminded him of the glories of the rose-red city of Petra in Jordan or the stone churches of Lalibela in Ethiopia. Nataline stood close by, sipping from her water bottle.

  "The Hindu caves here were constructed between the sixth and eighth centuries," she said. "The complex design rivals the great cathedrals of Europe that took generations to build. The architects had such vision." She shook her head in wonder and then pointed up at the stone elephant in front of them. "This is part of the Kailasa temple, designed to resemble Mount Kailash, the dwelling place of Lord Shiva in the Himalaya. It's carved out of a single rock, not constructed from blocks as you would think, and covers an area double the size of the Parthenon in Athens."

  "How are we going to find anything here?" Joseph wheezed as he sat heavily on a rock to catch his breath.

  "We'll split up," Marietti said. "You and Vishal take the east side."

  Joseph looked grateful and headed off into the shade of the temple.

  Marietti pulled the page from Himmler's diary out of his backpack. He needed to figure out how the directions of the old map related to the physical layout of the temple. He turned it around and compared it to what lay before him. It just didn't fit. So what was he missing? He tried re-reading the German, a frown deepening between his thick eyebrows.

  "I still don't know what you're specifically looking for."

  Nataline stood before him. The sun was behind her and he could see the curves of her body silhouetted underneath her loose shirt. He took a deep breath, unable to take his eyes off her as she walked closer, breaking the moment.

  "I'm …" Marietti struggled to recall what he'd been thinking only moments ago. "We're looking for something specific, the Brahmastra. Do you know of it?"

  Nataline nodded. "Of course, it's a mythical weapon. Incredibly powerful. Why do you think this place relates to it?"

  He opened the diary and explained the background of Himmler's fascination with India and the Nazis' search for the ultimate weapon.

  "Do you know of anywhere in the complex that might fit?" he asked.

  Nataline gazed out at the setting sun as she thought. After a moment, she spoke.

  "There is something. This way."

  She led the way through rock corridors to Cave 19 and stopped in front of a carved panel showing a dancing god. The bottom half was plain rock, but higher up where it was harder to reach there were still intricate paintings in yellow, green and white.

  "Shiva Nataraja," Natalin
e said. "The destroyer and creator of the universe. If anything would fascinate the Nazis, it would be this."

  Marietti looked more closely at the carved figure as his undulating arms ushered in a new creation. Then he noticed something. The demon of ignorance under Shiva's feet looked out of place, and the stone had weathered in a different way.

  "Look at this," he said. Nataline bent close and he could smell a hint of citrus on her skin, a fresh scent that cut through the dense air. Her eyes narrowed.

  She bent to her pack and pulled out a makeup kit in a floral bag, the type associated with more high-maintenance women. Marietti smiled as she opened it to reveal a field archaeologist's kit with files, a mini trowel and brushes of various kinds. He was impressed. Even if she had been searched, it's unlikely these would have been discovered.

  Nataline brushed gently at the demon.

  "There, look. You can see a seam. This was added later. It's not part of the original carving."

  "Can you lever it out?"

  Nataline raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "And damage a world-famous archaeological site?"

  "We can put it back after," Marietti said with a grin. "Besides, I know you're itching to find out what's behind it."

  Nataline smiled. "Well, if we have the blessing of the Vatican …" She chose a file from her kit and began to pick at the little carving.

  "It's protruding quite far out." She gave it a push and it shifted. Her eyes flashed to Marietti's, a look of excitement darting between them. She pushed it again, straining a little. "You do it." She moved sideways to allow him more space.

  Marietti used both his hands and pressed the demon forward into the rock. There was an audible thunk and a crunch, the shifting of stone on sand, the rubbing of rocks against each other, and then the whole panel shifted back to reveal an entrance. It was no more than half a meter wide, but enough that they could shuffle through. Inside, all was darkness.

  "What is happening, sir?" Vishal appeared from behind a corner of the temple. His eyes widened as he saw the entrance.

  "We may have found what we were looking for," Marietti said. "But we need light and tools from the packs we left at the entrance."

  "I'll go," Vishal said. "And I'll get Mr Joseph, too. He's resting right now." Vishal's smile said it all, and Marietti knew who he'd rather have next to him in the cave. He nodded.

  Vishal dashed off, his feet slip-sliding over the rocks in his haste. Nataline looked at Marietti.

  "Do you seriously think that the Brahmastra could be in there?" Her beautiful features twisted in concern.

  "It's only a myth," Marietti said. "But there's clearly something worth hiding in this sacred complex. Something the Nazis knew about but were never able to get to."

  Vishal soon returned with headlamps and Joseph scrambled behind him.

  "What's this I hear about a secret entrance?" he said, enthusiasm returning to his voice at the possibility of finding something. He stopped abruptly as he saw the split rock and the darkness inside. His face fell as Nataline and Marietti donned headlamps. "Oh. We're going in, then?"

  "You're welcome to wait out here," Marietti said.

  "Can I come, sir?" Vishal said, his eyes bright with excitement.

  "Of course." Marietti nodded. "You're the expert, after all."

  "I'm coming," Joseph snapped, and they all geared up.

  After adjusting their headlamps, Marietti stepped inside the dark passageway first. This was what drove him, the anticipation of what they might find. He knew there were ancient artifacts of power hidden across the world and his mission for the Vatican had always been to find them and bring them back before others could use them for dark deeds. But in recent months, he had wondered what happened to the things he brought back and whether, in fact, they were being used in precisely the way he feared. There were dark times coming and he had heard of a group who stood apart from the church, ARKANE, who collected objects of power and kept them from all religious groups, understanding that they each had their own agenda. When he got back to Rome, he intended to inquire further. It was time for a change.

  He felt a crunch under his feet and a crack echoed in the narrow tunnel. Marietti looked down to see the path ahead littered with bones. A thick layer of them stretched into the tunnel, a mixture of small animal and human remains. They disintegrated to dust under his boots.

  "Watch your feet," he said as he walked on.

  The path wound down through the rock.

  "This was clearly part of the original complex," Nataline said as they stepped carefully through the residue of death. She shone her headlamp up the walls. "The paintings are more protected here, and I would guess they date back to the eighth century."

  Marietti looked up to see a huge painting of Shiva destroying the world. His long hair whirled out and the stars rained down from heaven in fire that consumed the earth.

  "Happy times," he said. What the hell was down here?

  They rounded a corner and the tunnel opened up into a huge chamber, so wide that the beam of their lights couldn't reach the other side.

  "Hello!" Joseph shouted, his voice echoing round the chamber. Marietti spun and grabbed his arm.

  "Hush," he whispered through gritted teeth. "This is a holy place."

  "It's not our faith," Joseph snapped, pulling his arm away. "It's all just myth and superstition." He strode into the center of the chamber and spun around. His headlamp darted over rock walls, skipping over paintings of Hindu demons, of the goddess Kali devouring her victims as she clutched their decapitated heads in her many hands. Vishal gasped at the scenes as the light flickered over them.

  Then a glint flashed and Joseph stopped, turning back to what they had only glimpsed before.

  A statue of Shiva Nataraja in burnished bronze stood upon a stone altar, the intricate figure dancing the world to destruction. There were Sanskrit words inscribed on the base. Joseph strode towards it.

  "No." Vishal's voice was thin and reedy in the semi-darkness. "Don't touch it, sir."

  Joseph lifted his chin and Marietti saw defiance in his gaze. He had no respect for this land, he only wanted to possess it. Joseph reached out and grabbed the statue, picking it up and holding it above his head.

  "What? It's nothing. Just a bronze idol, like the Lord God struck down in Egypt."

  Then his face froze in a look of horror. "What was that?" He spun round.

  Marietti and the others spun too, but there was nothing there.

  "Get away from me!" Joseph's voice was stricken as he stared at the pictures on the walls. He backed away as if the stalking gods came for him. He tried to shake the statue from his hand, but he couldn't prise it away. So he used it as a weapon, whirling around, brandishing it like a club as he beat at the air.

  "Get back, you demons of Hell!" he shouted.

  Marietti moved towards him.

  "The guardians of Shiva are here," Vishal whispered. "He has angered them. Don't touch him."

  Joseph began to foam at the mouth, his face growing red in the light. He moaned.

  Then he began to scream.

  The sound made Marietti's skin crawl and he felt Nataline take his arm.

  "We have to help him," she whispered.

  Marietti took another step forward, but Vishal held him back.

  "The statue is cursed," he said.

  Joseph dropped to his knees, wrapping himself around the statue, curving his body over and around it as he whimpered in agony. His headlamp went dark as it hit the ground, but they could see the statue glowing, an unnatural light streaming from it. At last, Joseph's cries died and his body went limp.

  Then the light from the statue went out.

  Vishal released Marietti's arm. "Go to him now, but don't touch the statue. There are stories of this weapon and harnessing its curse, but it must be treated carefully."

  Marietti went to Joseph and together with Nataline they pulled his body from the statue, careful not to touch it.

  Joseph's face was fr
ozen in a rictus of horror, his eyes wide and bloodshot as if he had looked into the gaping maw of Hell.

  "What did he see?" Nataline murmured as Marietti closed the man's eyes.

  "I'd say the demons painted on these walls might have something to do with it." Marietti shuddered. "I wouldn't want to meet any of this lot in the flesh."

  "A hallucination perhaps?" she said. "Brought on by touching the statue."

  "The ancient civilizations were pretty good with curses and booby traps," Marietti said.

  Joseph's skin turned grey as they watched, and then his flesh began to shrivel, wrinkling in on itself. They stepped quickly away as his body crumbled into dust.

  "What the–?"

  Marietti shook his head. Whatever the statue was, they couldn't leave it here. But could he trust the Vatican with it?

  "Mr Marietti, sir. Look at this." Vishal's voice wavered and Marietti turned to see him crouching down by the altar, his head-torch illuminating a mural. It showed a Hindu holy man, standing in Vrksasana, the yogic tree pose, his left leg bent at the knee, his arms above his head. He held the statue of Shiva Nataraja in his hands, his mouth open as he spoke a mantra. Around him, a crowd of thousands drew near. Rays of light streamed from the statue and all it touched shriveled before it, their bodies turning to dust.

  Nataline walked closer and bent to read the script around the edge.

  "It speaks of the Brahmastra," she said, reaching out with one slim hand to indicate the words. "The statue of Shiva concentrates some kind of power … conjured by speaking a specific holy mantra. Then it feeds off the energy of the dead, amplifying it further. If used incorrectly, it burns those who dare to touch it."

  She looked over at the pile of dust on the ground.

  "There's more writing here," Vishal said.

  Nataline turned to look, her fingers brushing over the ancient words. "The weapon is a messenger of death and can harness the power of a thousand suns for those who know how to use it." Her voice shook. "And it speaks of Harappa."