Asura

by R P L Johnson

  From what little French the Doctor remembered from his school days, Morcellet seemed to be reliving the avalanche, but then would switch to shouted warnings about the plane crash before plunging into a delusional depression about their current situation.

  Looking around, Keyes was not so sure that the fantasy was any worse than their current grim reality.

  He and little Hadeeqa had survived their fall into the fissure. The thick snow bridge had given way and collapsed into the fissure first, breaking their fall somewhat. Their misfortune had actually ben a blessing in disguise, as the depths of the fissure provided the only shelter from the advancing avalanche. It was only when the plane had fallen on top of them that Keyes had really given up hope.

  It seemed that God had a sense of humour and had decided to use the crumpled fuselage that had kept the survivors alive during their two day ordeal on the glacier, to finally end the life of Hadeeqa Khamas and her rescuer. The great tube had rolled towards the crevasse, pushed by the force of the avalanche, and then dropped towards them. Only the fact that it had not fallen perfectly straight had saved them. The open end of the fuselage crashed into the wall of the crevasse, just a few yards above where Keyes cradled the sobbing Hadeeqa in his arms. Now the plane was almost completely burried. The open rear of the plane, where the tail cone had been ripped off, was wedged ten feet above the bottom of the deep fissure. The other end of the fuselage was far above them. It was jammed into the crevasse at a very steep angle, only the crushed cockpit peered over the lip of the crevasse. Although that was now covered by a new snow bridge, cutting out all light, burying them alive.

  Keyes had explored a little by the light of his lighter and had found Morcellet and Garrett: both in pretty bad shape. Garrett had dislocated his shoulder in an awkward fall, while Morcellet had no new injuries apart from a few bumps and bruises, but his broken legs had been further mangled, and were now slowly killing him.

  Keyes was certain that Morcellet had major internal bleeding, and would die unless he he got an immediate transfusion and an operation to step the flow of blood inside his ruined legs.

  As Keyes had no way of doing either in the pitch blackness of the fissure and without even a scalpel, he had simply done the best he could for both men. He tried to make the Frenchman as comfortable as possible for whatever hours he had left.

  Considering their situation, Keyes was pretty sure the rest of them would be joining him soon enough.

  CHAPTER 13

  ‘Let there be light!’

  Marinucci yanked hard on the ripcord of the portable generator and three halogen floodlights blazed into life. After nothing but their torches the powerful floods were blindingly intense.

  The lights illuminated a space about thirty feet in length from its blocked entrance to the drifted snow against the back wall. After its tapering entrance the cave flared out until it was as wide as a racketball court. Above them, the roof of the cave curved into the darkness beyond the floodlights' beam like an extremely tall and thin gothic arch. The floor beneath their feet was a conglomeration of cracked ice mixed with rocky chunks. Tej guessed that it was the ice that had formed the crack in the first place, working in though a hairline fissure millennia ago and pushing it apart with the immense, patient strength common to both the liquid water of the oceans and the glacial ice.

  It was completely dead. They were far too high for the bats or other animals that would normally have made such a place their home. The cave was completely lifeless: cold, dark and as silent as a tomb.

  Marinucci and Craver examined the cave’s entrance while Tej searched the back of the cave, shining a powerful torch into the nooks and crannies that the floodlights couldn’t reach.

  ‘There's no fucking way we're going to get through here,’ Marinucci called from the mouth of the cave. ‘We're at the bottom of a thirty foot high drift. We could try and tunnel out as a last resort, but we'd just a likely bring the whole thing down on top of ourselves.’

  ‘We'll just have to find another way out,’ Carver said. She played her torch’s beam up and down the blockage looking for any sign of weakness.

  ‘Just like that...? Find another way out. Christ!’ the irascible Australian swore. ‘Maybe we should just click our heels together and chant 'I wish I was home'. How about that?’

  ‘Calm down, Frank. Growling at us isn't going to help.’

  ‘I like growling,’ Frank replied. ‘It's how I work. You don't like it? You can get the hell away from me.’

  ‘That,’ said Carver calmly, ‘—is exactly what I am trying to do.’

  Tej ignored their bickering. The rear of the cave contained several dark alcoves where the creeping ice had cracked open the old stone. None penetrated more than a couple of yards into the mountain.

  The portable generator chugged softly to itself: the only sound in the still air.

  ‘Hey! Come over here and take a look at this. And bring some more light.’

  Marinucci picked up one of the spotlights and its six foot high pole and tripod base. He put it down where Tej told him to and the Ghurkha angled the powerful lap at the wall near the deep drift of snow.

  ‘Well fuck me,’ said Marinucci.

  The little generator sat next to the snow bank at the rear of the cave. It chugged away, its two horsepower engine turning over steadily, but that wasn’t what Marinucci was looking at. The generator’s warm exhaust was slowly melting the softly-packed snow.

  Behind the drift a series of figures had been carved in bas-relief into the solid granite of the cave wall. Each figure was about a foot high and quite roughly carved: although the lack of detail seemed to be due to great age and the effects of weathering, rather than any lack of skill on the sculptor's part. The figures were realistically proportioned and caught in a series of poses so lifelike that they could have rivalled the carvings of the ancient Greeks.

  But these figures were unmistakably Hindu. Mingled between the superbly rendered human figures were the unmistakable many-armed and animal-headed deities of the Indian sub-continent.

  Above and below the progression of figures was a decorative band of inter-twining geometric shapes with branching protuberances that may once have been foliage or tongues of flame. The bands were about six inches wide and separated the carved figures from the natural rock face above and below.

  But what really interested them was that the figures marched across the wall, and continued behind the veil of drifted snow.

  ‘Let's clear this shit out of the way,’ Marinucci said, scooping away an armful of the soft powder. In only a few minutes they managed to shift several yards of the loosely packed, wind-blown snow. They all worked quickly with their hands—all keen to explore their new find. Too keen even to break from the work to fetch the shovels from the Supacat.

  The frieze continued behind the snowdrift, a gently curving band of sculpture about two feet across. It arced upwards forming a semi-circle rising eight feet above the cave floor before returning down the other side.

  ‘A mandala!’ Tej exclaimed.

  ‘A what?’

  ‘It’s a circular form often found in Hindu and Buddhist artwork. It signifies the eternal wheel of the universe.’

  Tej was right. The frieze described a perfect circle against the back wall of the cave. It dived into the floor and continued downwards into the ice beyond the reach of their torch beams.

  ‘It must have been carved long ago,’ Tej said. ‘The ice must have been lower then.’

  ‘What the fuck is this place, a temple?’ asked Marinucci. ‘It's a little off the beaten track, don't you think?’

  ‘It was probably once a place of pilgrimage,’ Tej explained. ‘The mountains have long been considered sacred places by the peoples living near them. For Hindus, the centre of the entire universe is considered to be a mountain, Mount Meru, and Lord Shiva chose to make his home on a mountain. He sits in his paradise on Mount Kailasa and meditates to ensure the continued existence of the world.’

>   ‘But who carved them? No one has lived in these valleys for hundreds of years.’

  ‘Thousands more like. But the Indus valley is one of the oldest inhabited sites in the world. People have been living here for many thousands of years in civilisations that were the equal of ancient Egypt and Babylonia.’

  Carver traced her gloved hand over the sculptures. ‘They're beautiful,’ she said. ‘Do they have any meaning?’

  Tej looked at them closely. ‘It's difficult to see. There was once writing here, but it has been worn away.’ He pointed at an area of the frieze that showed a conical shape rising out of a churning sea depicted by spirals of cresting white-caps. ‘I recognise this image. But it looks wrong.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘I think the mandala tells the story of the second incarnation of the god Vishnu.’

  Carver looked at him blankly.

  ‘It is said that at times of great peril for mankind, Vishnu will appear to banish evil. This will happen ten times throughout the life of the universe. Nine of these incarnations are said to have already taken place; only Kalkin—the creator of the new world—is yet to come.’

  ‘Oh yeah. And when's he due?’

  ‘Not until the end of the Kali Yuga—the present age in which we live now—about four hundred thousand years.’

  Carver traced her hand over the conical shape on the wall. ‘So is this Vishnu?’ she asked.

  ‘No. That is what is wrong with the image. The shape you see there is a mountain, Mount Mandara, that the gods and the devils used to stir a great sea until it gave up the elixir of eternal life.’ Tej pointed to some figures on either side of the swirling vortex of breaking waves. ‘On one side were the gods, led by Indra the god of war. On the other were the Asuras, the demons who had thrown the gods out of heaven. Both the gods and the devils wanted the immortality that would come from drinking the elixir, so they cooperated to churn the sea. The mountain was supported in the sea on the back of Vishnu in the form of a great tortoise. But there is no tortoise in this picture.’

  ‘Could it have worn away?’

  Tej looked closer. ‘It doesn't look like it. There is nothing beneath the sea. No marks to show that any carving had ever been made.’

  ‘Maybe the artist left it out,’ Carver suggested.

  Tej smiled. ‘That would be like a Christian artist painting the crucifixion, and missing out Jesus.’

  Tej followed the story along the frieze, scraping away the rest of the snow when suddenly his hand punched through into an open space beyond. Quickly they cleared away the rest of the snow.

  Instead of ending in a wall of stone behind the drift as they had assumed, the cave continued in the form of a narrow tunnel, leading deeper into the mountain. The mouth of the tunnel was in the exact centre of the surrounding mandala.

  ‘Well if this is a temple, let's hope it's got a back door,’ said Marinucci.

  Marinucci thought that he had planned for every contingency. He had carefully studied every aspect of their rescue mission and planned and packed for every eventuality. But he had never considered the possibility that they would have to go spelunking in a four thousand year old tomb. All his carefully formulated plans were useless and that made him nervous.

  Fortunately the Supacat was well stocked with climbing equipment. Adapt, improvise, use what you’ve got and make do without what you haven’t. It was a procedure he was familiar with, but that didn’t help his gut.

  He led the way into the tunnel with Tej and Carver close behind. They had left the unconscious Campbell behind. If they found a way out they could always come back for him. Although somehow Marinucci didn't think that Millicent Carver would be too upset if they left the guy to rot.

  The carvings continued inside the opening. Both sides of the tunnel had been extensively worked, cut back to form flush walls before being decorated. Even the roof showed tool marks where jagged outcrops of granite had been chipped away.

  Marinucci flicked his torch around, checking for the chance of a rock fall or any instability or sinkholes in the caves floor.

  Behind him, the torch beams of his two companions betrayed their interests. Tej’s beam lingered on the carvings, flicking from side to side to try and take in every foot of the intricate frieze. Carver’s beam was steadier. The slim flashlight slung under her rifle’s barrel had a powerful LED light that lanced through the darkness ahead of them. Every now and then she would flick it back along their path towards the tunnel mouth as if afraid that it would close behind them.

  The strange figures on either side seemed to squirm around him as he panned his torch from side to side. Slim shadows grew and shrank around the figures giving the images of warring gods a disconcerting life of their own. They seemed better preserved in the still air of the tunnel, and every now and then a face would loom out of the darkness, its features as clear as the day it had been carved. Occasionally the portrait would be of a beautiful goddess, but more often than not they portrayed some animal-headed monstrosity. Demons with the heads of buffalo and garlands of skulls. Spider-like creatures with a sword or spear gripped in each of their hands.

  ‘This place gives me the creeps,’ Marinucci said. ‘I think I liked it better when I was back in the cave.’

  ‘I think we all liked it better when you were back in the cave,’ Carver replied.

  ‘Very funny. Maybe you’d like to lead the way and I’ll hang around at the back making wisecracks?’

  ‘No thanks. You’re doing fine.’

  For an instant Carver’s torch projected Marinucci’s silhouette onto the wall and he was acutely aware of the rifle that torch was attached to trained on his back.

  There was something not right about that woman. She was just altogether too familiar with that weapon for one thing. And despite everything she had been through, she kept her head. Maybe she was just some kind of recreational survivalist living out her dream come true. Or maybe she was something more. Marinucci hadn’t made up his mind yet, but one thing was for sure. When and if Campbell came to his senses, Marinucci was going to have a few words with him out of that woman’s earshot.

  ‘Hang on a sec,’ Marinucci said. ‘There's some kind of blockage.’

  He eased through a particularly narrow section after which the tunnel opened out until it was just as wide as the cave behind them. Tej and Carver followed him through, there was more than enough room for them to stand side by side and utilise the light of all of their torches.

  But their torches weren't the only source of light in the tunnel. The blockage ahead sealed the end of the tunnel perfectly, as if a waterfall, flowing across the opening had frozen in place. It glowed with a dim, faintly bluish light.

  ‘It looks like an ice flow,’ Tej said. ‘We should be able to get through it.’

  ‘I'm not so sure,’ said Carver. ‘There's not much light getting through. It could be pretty thick.’

  Marinucci placed the flat of his hand against the blockage. It was incredibly smooth. ‘I've got some blasting charges in the 'cat,’ he said. ‘We'll get through alright, even if we have to start another avalanche doing it.’

  Something wasn't quite right.

  Marinucci had a natural survivor's instinct for spotting when things were not exactly as they should be.

  Just like motion sickness is caused by a discrepancy between what the eyes see and the inner-ear feels, Marinucci had a kind of sixth sense that nagged away at him when the information from his senses did not tally. He was feeling it now, but he couldn't tell exactly what was causing it.

  He looked at the back of his hand. The thick, waterproof material of his outer glove had a rime of frost left over from when they had dug into the snow drift. The heavily insulated glove was so good at containing the heat from Marinucci's hand that the outer layer was only slightly warmer than the ambient temperature and still well below freezing; the frost had not melted. But now, where the glittering ice crystals came into contact with the wall in front of him, they were di
sappearing right before his eyes. Now that he knew what to look for, his nagging feeling disappeared and he knew exactly what was wrong.

  He tugged off his heavy outer glove and the tighter woollen glove beneath, and placed the flat of his exposed hand on the barrier.

  ‘Are you crazy?’ Tej said, knowing only too well how quickly frostbite could take hold at that temperature. But Marinucci just stared at him.

  ‘This ain't ice,’ he said. ‘It's warm.’

  CHAPTER 14

  ‘Just like a pom,’ Rebecca McCarthy said as Rose handed her a plastic jar of brown liquid he claimed was tea. ‘We fall halfway down a mountain, and the first thing he thinks about is putting the kettle on.’ She took the offered cuppa anyway.

  ‘'Fraid we're out of milk and sugar, My Dear,’ Rose said, laying the BBC English accent on thick.

  He fixed himself a cup from his jury-rigged kettle. The only piece of equipment with a heating element that had survived their fall down the mountain had been the sterilising bath from the shelter's operating theatre. It looked like something out of Heath Robinson's nightmares, but it did its job. Instead of boiling surgical instruments, Rose was melting ice. Water was essential to survival in the mountains, and eating snow was a sure fire shortcut to hypothermia. Finding a couple of teabags had been a bonus.

  McCarthy grimaced. ‘That is probably the worst cup of tea I've ever tasted,’ she complained. ‘Are you sure you're English?’

  ‘Water boils at only about eighty degrees at this altitude,’ Rose explained. ‘It's not hot enough for the tea to draw properly.’

  McCarthy sipped her tepid brew. She didn't really have much to complain about. They had made it through the fall relatively unscathed, although the shelter had seen better days.