“Where do you think you’re going?” she snapped.
Aya stared up in shocked recognition. “Nara!”
“Do I know you?” demanded Nara, glaring at her fiercely through her good eye.
Aya slipped the hood off her head. “It’s me,” she said.
“Aya!” Nara exclaimed. Her face softened. “My little princess.”
“What are you doing here?” asked Aya.
Nara’s face became fierce again.
“I was kidnapped by ghuls to work in the mines.”
“Oh.” Aya didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Nara snapped. “I’m happy here. I’m working for Master Rookh now.”
“You can’t work for him! He’s the man that killed my mother,” gasped Aya. She took Nara’s hand. “Run away with me!”
Nara was looking at Aya with an expression of scorn. “Run away?” she said. “Where would I go? Back to the sewers?” She shook her head. “This is the best place I’ve ever been in my life.”
Aya didn’t have time to argue. “Then help me,” she begged. “I’ve got to get away. I’m Rookh’s daughter. He’ll make my life hell down here.”
Nara’s mouth twisted. “A princess even in the underworld,” she said, her voice bitter. “Everything is just handed to you on a plate, isn’t it?”
“I don’t want to be a princess,” cried Aya in desperation. “You’re welcome to take my place. Just show me how to get out of here!”
Nara hesitated. She eyed Aya shrewdly. Then she made up her mind.
“You can’t go through the usual gates,” she said. “They’ll be guarded.”
“Is there no other way?”
“Only one,” Nara told her. “Through the workshop. The hole in the dome leads into the secret passageways under the city.” She pointed out one of the bridges. “It’s that way.”
Aya clasped her hand. “Thank you!” she said.
Nara pushed her away. “I don’t need your thanks,” she said, avoiding Aya’s eye. “Just get out of here. There’s only room for one princess in this kingdom.”
Aya glanced around as Nara hurried away. Behind her the ring had turned into a battlefield. The ghuls, something in them woken by Ripiraja’s singing, had turned on the demons, lifting them into the air with skeletal hands to hurl them into the fiery abyss below the obsidian island. Aya felt a rush of hope, but the fiends simply turned into crows as they fell, and then rose soaring into the air to repeat their attack.
Keeping her head down, Aya dodged her way to the bridge Nara had pointed out. Before she could get there she was surrounded by demons.
With a cry of triumph they seized her. “Back to the dungeons!” they cackled, but just then there was a terrible roar as Emira came bounding over, and the demons scattered, shrieking as they turned into crows to escape. Kalki was on Emira’s back.
“Did you find a way out?” he gasped.
“We have to find Rookh’s workshop,” said Aya, turning to run. “This way!”
“Get on behind me,” Kalki told her.
At a glance, Aya took in Emira’s fierce eyes, fearsome teeth, and bloodstained claws, but there was no time to be afraid. Seizing the tiger’s fur, she clambered on and clung to Kalki’s waist.
Behind them the night-crows had regrouped and were about to dive.
“Let’s go!” shouted Kalki.
“Don’t go without me!” cawed Ripiraja, shooting over their heads in a streak of crimson feathers.
Emira shot across the bridge like a bolt of lightning, while Kalki beat off the crows with his sword.
They reached the first set of double doors.
The house-marshal’s bulging eyes flew open. When he saw them he began to scream, “Runaways! Runaways! Runaways!”
“Shut up!” shouted Aya. “This is the Prince of Jinnis! Do you understand? He’s the only one that can set you free!”
The house-marshal sneered. “Prove it!” he snapped.
Kalki lifted his hand and blasted the door with a ball of fire.
“I never did like those house-marshals,” he muttered as the ashes crumbled to the floor.
Emira dived over the charred wreckage and ran towards the door on the other side. Behind them they could hear the sound of beating wings.
“Come in! Come in!” said the second house-marshal quickly, opening the doors into the workshop.
“Don’t let anyone else in!” snapped Kalki once they were through.
The door slammed obediently shut. Behind them they heard the frustrated shrieks of their pursuers, but no sooner had they stepped forward when there was a buzzing and a clicking from above, and a host of similickers emerged from their cells, their ruby eyes blazing as they sought out the movement and warmth of living flesh.
“Get out of the way!” said Kalki. “I’ll deal with them.”
Aya watched in terror as he leapt off Emira’s back and ran into the centre of the room.
With a furious buzz the similickers turned towards him, but he was ready. Lifting his sword, Aya saw that the blade was white hot and as the creatures dived for him, the sword moved in a blur, creating a shield of fire that made them ricochet off him and clatter to the floor in a hail of golden rain. Soon the workshop was littered with their mangled bodies, their eyes still blazing.
Emira let out a roar of satisfaction.
Quickly, Aya and Ripiraja released the animals from their cages. The room was filled with baying, howls and chirps as they jumped, flew and scurried to find their own ways out.
Neek, alerted by the noise, came rushing into the hall.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes staring and his hands agitated.
“Looks like there’s been a bit of a malfunction, fish-face!” cawed Ripiraja.
Neek stared down at the pile of mechanical bodies at his feet. His eyes scanned them anxiously, counting them in a split second. “Four thousand, two hundred and ninety-nine!” he cried. “All broken!” He picked one up and looked at it helplessly.
“Let’s go!” gasped Kalki.
Emira bounded towards him, and Aya ran to catch up, but before any of them could make a move, a familiar blast of wind threw them apart. With a swirl of his cape, Rookh appeared before them, his staff raised in triumph.
“Not so fast!” he snapped.
Eyes gleaming, he swung round to face Kalki.
“A most impressive display of your powers,” he said, gesturing at the creatures that lay twitching on the floor. “I will enjoy being your master.”
Raising his sword, Kalki lunged forward, but Rookh blocked him with his staff. He smiled.
“You can fight me, but you can never win,” he said. “I own you now. Have you forgotten?”
Kalki felt a burning in his heart. He looked down in shock. The golden medallion was still embedded in his chest. Just then he felt Rookh’s will piercing his new-found strength and a shiver of unwanted pleasure ran through his body.
“Master,” he whispered.
“No!” cried Aya. “He’s not your master. Remember who you are!”
Moments later, Emira’s roar cut through the air like a crash of thunder.
Kalki’s face twisted in pain as he tried to resist Rookh’s control. “I am not your slave,” he choked. “I’m the Prince of Jinnis!”
He dug his fingers into his chest and, with a sharp move, he pulled the golden disc from his flesh, throwing it at his adversary with all his force. Without hesitation the spidery legs lifted up and embedded themselves into Rookh’s throat.
The result was immediate. Rookh relaxed, and a look of bliss softened his face. Then he closed his eyes and his head slumped back, drawn into a dream of his own devising.
Kalki wasn’t so lucky. As soon as he ripped out the gold, he began to bleed, but this was no mere physical injury, it was as if all of his life force had been sucked out of his body. In agony he slumped against Emira. He was no longer Kalki, the Prince of Jinnis; he was
only Sharat the circus boy, and he was dying.
There was a crack as the heavy wooden door behind them splintered and they heard the gibbering of demons.
“Let’s go!” shrieked Ripiraja. “We’ve got company!”
Sharat managed to pull himself on to Emira’s back and Aya scrambled on after him.
“Which way?” she cried.
“Up here!” cawed Ripiraja as he circled the dome and the hole in the ceiling.
Emira roared as she crouched to spring.
“Hold tight!” gasped Sharat.
Emira’s body was as sleek as silver lightning as she leapt towards the dark hole in the dome’s ceiling and landed in the tunnel where Sharat and Aya had first seen the similickers. Faint starlight shimmered above, but Emira didn’t keep climbing. That way would only lead back into Shergarh and she wanted to get away from the city. With a sniff, she turned into the darkness, picking out the shadows of rats as she ran. Normally she would have stopped to investigate. She hadn’t eaten since she’d been kidnapped, but now wasn’t the time to think about food. It was time to escape.
Unerringly, she led them through the twisting passageways, unravelling their secrets until they spilled out of the bowels of the earth into the darkness of night. In triumph she turned her head up to face the indigo sky that faded to red in the east. A star twinkled above them. They were free!
Emira bounded across the wasteland towards the northern mountains which were just becoming visible against the brightening sky. Behind them, the City of Jewels rose up out of the plains, with Shergarh as its sinister crown. Sharat saw a cloud of darkness rise up from the centre of the fortress, and it was growing bigger.
“Watch out,” he gasped. “The night-crows are on our tail.”
Emira was running fast, but the crows were faster still, their infernal wings beating them inexorably closer.
Suddenly Aya remembered the remains of the ghuls that she’d rescued from the dungeon floor.
“I’ll stop them!” she cried.
Seizing her bag, she scooped out handfuls of seeds and flung them far and wide as Emira raced along.
For a moment it seemed to have worked. With angry caws the crows stopped to descend on the barren earth, seeking out every last seed, but still more were coming, and soon they were surrounded by thrashing wings, gouging beaks and ripping talons.
“Take that!” shrieked Ripiraja, attacking from above.
“We’ll have to stop and fight!” gasped Sharat, his face pale with the loss of blood.
“No, wait!” cried Aya. “Look! It’s dawn!”
As the sun began to rise, the crows’ raucous cries gave way to shrieks of frustration. Moments later, their wings shrivelled as they turned back into demons and came plummeting down to earth. With a roar, Emira snapped up half a dozen, spitting them out contemptuously when she was done. Then, with a spring she easily left them far behind.
Aya let out a sigh of relief, but they weren’t out of trouble yet. As Emira sped across the barren plains away from the City of Jewels the blood kept on flowing from the wound in Sharat’s chest.
“How did we get here?” he whispered, his voice weak. “I can’t remember anything.”
“Never mind that,” said Aya, slipping her scarf around him to bind him to Emira’s back. “Just hold on!”
Sharat nodded, but his eyes were dull. Soon Emira’s fur was sticky with his blood and his hands lost their grip around her neck.
Desperate to keep him awake, Aya kept whispering encouragement, but it was no use. Sharat was too weak, and at some point on their journey he ceased to hear her, and slipped silently away.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
REBIRTH
Aya was woken by the sound of singing.
She sat up and winced. Her head was pounding and her body ached. All day and half the previous night she had clung to Emira as they fled the City of Jewels, following Ripiraja’s lead. She vaguely remembered dropping, exhausted, off Emira’s back. Then someone had wrapped her in a blanket and she’d fallen asleep.
Now she rubbed her eyes and squinted to block out the harsh morning sun. She was next to a cluster of grey boulders and above her was a real, live tree.
Her heart beating in excitement, she got up to inspect the tree. In wonder she felt its cool, delicate leaves and as she touched its trunk she almost thought she could feel it breathing. For a moment she just leaned against it as she got her bearings. Behind her she could see snow-capped mountains, while all around the landscape was made up of green, rolling hills dotted with granite boulders. All at once she realised she was in the foothills of the holy mountains, several days’ journey to the north of the City of Jewels.
Curious, she walked past the boulders towards the sound of singing and with a thrill of recognition she saw Uma the witch squatting by a lively river. Next to her was a cauldron bubbling over a fire, and nearby Emira was pacing back and forth, a look of fierce sorrow on her face. There was a body lying between them.
“Sharat!” called Aya. In her excitement she began to run towards them, but as she got closer her heart sank. Sharat’s skin was pale and waxy and no blood flowed from the wound on his chest.
Still singing, Uma lifted her head to indicate that Aya should hold Sharat’s hand. Obediently, Aya did so, but as soon as she touched it, she knew that her worst fear had come true. Sharat’s skin was as cold as ice. He really was dead.
“No,” she whispered. “No…” In despair she fell to her knees, but Uma shook her head, and gestured for her to sit up.
“Sing!” she said.
Uma’s chant wasn’t in any language that Aya had heard before, but slowly she began to pick out words, so she began to sing along.
As Uma chanted she fed the fire and smudged Sharat with aromatic smoke from a bunch of leaves that smouldered in her hand. Then she picked up a hollow gourd to keep time with the music: tak tak tak, tah tah tah.
With a sense of wonder, Aya began to see patterns emerging from the steam that was rising from the cauldron – amorphous beings with fluttering hands, hair like clouds, and staring eyes.
Still singing, Uma lifted the cauldron off the fire and into the river to cool down. Then at last she poured out barely a cupful of dark liquid.
“Hold him up!” she told Aya.
Aya lifted Sharat’s limp body as Uma drank the potion down in one gulp. Then leaning over Sharat she put her mouth over his, and exhaled with all her might.
Suddenly Sharat took a gasp of air, and let out a hacking cough that threw his body into violent convulsions.
Emira watched, every muscle in her body tense.
“He’s alive!” gasped Aya.
With a graceful move, Emira leapt to her feet and walked over to them.
“He’s all yours,” murmured the witch, putting her hand on the tiger’s back.
Purring, Emira leaned over Sharat, and licked the wound on his chest. Aya looked down in wonder. Sharat was breathing peacefully now, and where there had been a gaping hole above his heart was just an angry red scar.
Uma pushed herself up to her feet. “Let’s leave them alone,” she told Aya. “Sharat needs to rest.”
She helped Aya lay Sharat down on the grass while Emira curled up around him to keep him warm.
Finally Uma turned her attention to Aya.
“It seems you’ve been on quite a journey since I last saw you,” she said. “Would you like some food?”
Aya hadn’t eaten or drunk since finding the crystal pool. Now her mouth began to water.
“Yes, please,” she said.
Taking her hand, Uma led Aya towards her shelter, a small building built out of the same grey rock that littered the landscape. Aya glimpsed a flurry of turquoise feathers. A big bird with a curved beak and clever, beady eyes landed on a tree nearby.
“Ripiraja!” said Aya. She turned to Uma. “He helped us escape.”
“So he keeps telling me,” said Uma.
“Run away! Run away!” cawed the bi
rd, and with a shiver his feathers turned to shades of scarlet tipped with gold. Aya laughed, delighted.
“Beautiful!” she said.
“Don’t flatter him or I’ll never hear the last of it,” grumbled Uma. “He won’t stop bragging about how he found the amulet and saved the day.”
“Who’s a clever boy, then?” the bird crooned. With a flurry of wings, he hopped up and landed on Aya’s shoulder, his claws gripping gently so as not to hurt her.
“Oh!” she cried.
“You’re very pretty, too,” he whispered coyly in her ear.
Uma rolled her eyes. “Watch out. He likes you.”
Aya giggled. “I like him, too!” she said. “But how did you end up on top of Emira’s cage?” she asked the bird.
“Tricks and magic!” said the bird. “Tricks and magic!”
Aya laughed again as she tickled the parrot between the feathers under his chin.
As Uma stopped to watch them her expression softened. “I’m glad you all came back safely,” she said.
Then she began to busy herself around the fire. “Now why don’t you tell me all about your adventures?” she said. “And don’t leave anything out.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
SEED
Sharat woke up to the sound of Emira purring. He opened his eyes.
“Where am I?” he asked.
Emira’s purring grew louder.
Sharat sat up and leaned against her for support. As he moved he felt an ache above his heart and looked down to see a scar on his chest. Suddenly everything that had happened in the last few days came flooding back to him.
“We got away!” he said.
Emira pressed her head against his with a rumble of agreement.
Sharat buried his face in her fur. For a moment he just sat there, feeling the warm, familiar shape of her body. Then he noticed the sound of voices nearby and lifted his head to look around.
Behind them was a river, beyond that was the crest of a hill, and far below that the flatlands stretched all the way to the horizon.
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