ASH MISTRY AND THE CITY OF DEATH

by Sarwat Chadda

  “Paving stones,” Ash said. “Big ones, and very old.”

  “But this only leads to the sea,” said John.

  Ash looked at the stones again. It was obvious they were man-made. But why, and why here? “You sure there’re no cities or towns this way?”

  John frowned. “Doubt it. It’s all just swamp.”

  The monkeys chattered frantically. They jumped up and down on their branches; some hopping from slab to slab, slapping their hands on the stone and crying out.

  “What do they want?” John asked.

  “If I spoke monkey, I’d ask.”

  Warily, they continued along the smashed-up path, the swamp filled with the howling of monkeys.

  They hit the cliff top an hour later at twilight. Just in time, thought Ash. He hadn’t been keen on groping around in the swamp in the dark and walking straight down the throat of a waiting crocodile. Their company of monkeys lingered, but they kept further back, afraid to leave the safety of the trees.

  An arch of grass-covered rock jutted out from the cliff. Ash peered over.

  Vast house-sized boulders sat in the waters, their jagged corners rising out of the dark sea like the jaws of a leviathan as waves crashed and spewed upon them. A row of small islands stretched out towards the east. A wind was brewing on the sea, and storm clouds gathered on the horizon.

  “Looks like Cornwall,” Ash said. “That’s an archipelago off the far western point of England. It looks as though it’s stretching out to some distant island.”

  “Are those lights?” John pointed to one of the larger islands a mile or so away.

  Ash took out his binoculars.

  John was right. While Ash couldn’t see any path leading up the tall cliffs of the island on this side, it was flat once you got to the top, and hidden among the palm trees were some small tents with lanterns. A wisp of smoke rose from a campfire. Figures of all shapes and sizes, some human, some not, moved around the plateau. He saw a pair of over-large stone monkeys lugging a large suitcase.

  But no Jagannath. That was a relief. Ash might have knocked down a rickety temple to Kali, but he didn’t feel ready to test himself against a thousand tons of solid stone. His guts tightened as he watched a white-suited figure move among the tents. Savage.

  “There’s a path down to the beach.” John started down the slope. “Come with me.”

  The sea gently heaved upon the sandy beach. Once he’d climbed down, it didn’t take long for Ash to spot the continuation of the stone path they’d followed all this way. Time and tide had broken it up, and the slabs tilted or sloped at odd angles, but Ash could see the path ran in a straight line into the water, disappearing into the waves after a few metres. A vast field of seaweed drifted from side to side across the shelter of rocks. Why a path into the sea?

  “What’s Savage doing out there? Waiting for a boat?”

  “You don’t have a plan?” asked John.

  “Me? I’m the strong but silent type.”

  “You? Silent? I’ve never met anyone whose mouth was more disconnected from his brain.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  It was another eight hours ’til sunrise, and judging by the campfires on the island, Savage was bedding down for the night.

  “We’ll wait a bit,” said Ash. “Give Parvati time to find us.”

  “You think she’ll come here? How?”

  Ash prodded John’s forehead. “She’s smart. She’ll have a plan. Several, most likely.” He yawned and picked a dry patch of sand. It was cool and there was something soporific about the sound of waves lapping on the beach. “I’m having a little nap. We’ll take turns. Give me a couple of hours, then wake me up, OK?”

  John snored softly in the grassy verge at the foot of the cliff, while Ash sat on the shore, looking out at the dim thread of grey on the eastern horizon. He’d slept fitfully, his dreams still haunted by his memories of Ashoka and the twisted revenants he’d brought to life with the Koh-i-noor. So he woke after a few hours and let John take the lion’s share of rest, in spite of the bone-deep weariness that hung over him. The campfires on the far island were now just dim red glows, dying in their embers, and figures were moving about. It looked like Savage wanted an early start.

  If they were going to do anything, it had to be sooner rather than later.

  Savage was within easy reach. He had the Koh-i-noor.

  What would Parvati do? That was the question.

  Whatever needs doing.

  Ash kicked John’s leg.

  “Whuuh?” John rubbed his knuckles in his eyes and shook the sand from his hair.

  Ash flicked off his sandals. “I’m going.”

  “You’re joking. Aren’t you?”

  “Nope. I’m tired of waiting.”

  “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

  “Do I ever?” Ash wrapped his yellow scarf round his waist and tucked the katar into it. “I’m going after Savage. He’s over there.”

  “Then what?”

  “I’ll get the Koh-i-noor first and kill him second.” That’s what Parvati would do.

  John looked at Ash. “You’re really going to kill him?”

  Ash nodded. He was the Kali-aastra; that was what he did, and no one deserved death more than Savage. “I’ve killed before. Ravana. Mayar. Even that vulture demon Jat.”

  “Oh, yeah, you’re practically a serial killer, Ash.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Murder isn’t funny. You killed those others in war. I heard about them from your sister. You saved her life and that’s why you did it. This is different. This is creeping up behind someone and slitting his throat. You’re not that sort of person. I hope you’re not that sort of person.”

  “It’s what Parvati would do.”

  “She’s a demon, Ash.”

  “I’m not saying it’s what I want. It’s just… what other choice do I have? How else am I going to stop him?”

  “I’m just saying it’s a bit extreme. Let’s wait. If we’ve found this place, I bet Parvati can’t be far behind.”

  That’s what Ash wanted. He wanted Parvati to make the decision. If she told him to kill Savage, that would be different. It wouldn’t be his choice. But then following orders wasn’t an excuse for doing evil. “We’ve only got another couple of hours of darkness left. If I’m going to get over there, I need to go now.”

  “What about me?” said John.

  “Head back to the old train station. If Parvati is on her way, she’ll most likely come through there. You go and find her.”

  “And if I can’t?”

  “Then find someone else. Like the Avengers,” said Ash as he waded into the sea.

  e’d never swum in the dark before, and it was weird seeing the reflections of the stars and the light of the moon fragmented upon the dark waves. A strange green glow followed his limbs, fluorescent algae activated by his movements. He dipped his head under once or twice. The darkness beneath was endless. He felt like he was floating in eternity.

  Was he halfway there? Maybe.

  There was a thin strip of beach ahead, sheltered by the high cliffs. Ash, chin low in the bobbing waves, put a bit of effort in and headed for it.

  His toes scraped the sand. Ash found his footing and waded the last few metres. He stared straight up the cliffs in front of him. They were grim and black, smeared with moss, and water trickled down crooked narrow channels, collecting in rock pools at the cliff bottom. Ash shook his arms, trying to get some life back into them. But they hung heavily from his aching shoulders. He shuffled towards the high rocky wall, desperate for a rest, but knowing that if he stopped now, he’d never get started again. Dawn was approaching fast. Now was the time for sneaking.

  He looked for a way up.

  “Crap.” The cliffs were a lot taller than they’d looked from the shore.

  Why was nothing simple any more?

  No path up. No convenient rope dangling from the top. No escalator. C
ertainly no lift. Just clumps of weeds and grass sticking out of cracks in the rock. Dripping wet, legs worn from the swim, Ash searched the cliff for a handhold. He grabbed an exposed root, wedged his toes into a long crack and started to climb.

  Ash crept up the dark cliff face like a spider, slowly, and planning each move. More than once his grip slipped and he found himself dangling fifty metres over the rock by just his fingertips. His arms burned and his shoulders ached like this was his worst PE class times a hundred, times a thousand. He was definitely low on battery power.

  Bad time to have second thoughts about all this, Ash.

  He needed a death – for someone nearby to die and allow him to absorb their death energies. Then he could take on anyone.

  That was sick, thinking about death so casually. The realisation made him shiver, or was it just the night sea wind?

  Savage was waiting at the top. His prize. He gritted his teeth and pushed on.

  Game over, scumbag.

  Eventually, with the eastern sky turning purple, Ash reached the top. He sat down to catch his breath and let his limbs recover. His fingers were numb from gripping the rock.

  Ash drew out his katar. It settled comfortably in his grip. The katar wasn’t flash; it didn’t have gems or decorative carvings, it was as plain as could be.

  It had one purpose, and he would use it for that: to end Savage’s miserable life, once and for ever.

  Ash looked along the uneven cliff path. The sky was bloody now, dawn an hour away. Lights shone among the tents. They stood arranged in neat military rows, each of unblemished white canvas, like small houses. The island wasn’t big; it was almost square and relatively flat, though overgrown and dotted with palm trees. Ash spotted a few more of the flagstones, mostly covered in grass. He crept closer to the tents and crouched, barefoot and silent. He searched around, watching for anyone coming near. The darkness gathered around him. The shadows seemed thicker where he stood and the silence deeper.

  The army of statues, the loha-mukhas, surrounded the edge of the camp. A pack of hyena rakshasas scouted the perimeter. One sniffed at the bush Ash hid behind, then wandered off.

  Ash smiled to himself. His dip in the sea must have masked his scent.

  He skirted round the edge of the encampment, heading towards the biggest tent. It was a plain thing, about five metres square and tall enough for a man to stand up in. The flaps were closed, but fluttered slightly in the wind. Up close, Ash saw the walls were embroidered with the crossed swords and poppies of the Savage coat of arms. There were two loha-mukhas standing guard outside, a six-armed Shiva made of bronze and a stone lion. Savage had to be in there.

  At the back of the tent, Ash stopped and listened. Nothing. He scraped the edge of his katar into the heavy cloth, tearing a small hole. He peered in, but couldn’t see anything; it was too dark. His heart went into overdrive and he wiped the sweat from his hands.

  This is it.

  Ash cut a line through the back wall. The cloth parted, the noise seeming as loud as a scream, but there was no response as he entered the tent.

  Early morning light followed him through the tear and cast a soft glow over the sleeping figure of Savage. He lay on his back, shirt undone. Seven skulls marked his chest in a circle pattern, each one glowing softly with a pale, almost radioactive yellow. They were deep brands, and Ash, for a moment, wondered how much they had hurt. He knew they were a symbol of Savage’s growing magical power, the number of sorceries he’d mastered. He’d only had five skulls when Ash had faced him in Rajasthan. Three more, and he’d be as powerful as Ravana.

  Beside the bed was a small, low camp table. Savage’s cane rested on it, next to a small leather satchel. Ash flicked it open. The Koh-i-noor lay inside in its silk purse. He put the satchel over his shoulder.

  Ash knelt down beside the bed and pressed the razor-sharp edge of the katar against Savage’s throat.

  he pale, almost translucent skin of the Englishman was reflected in the mirror-like steel. A thick blue vein stood out, running from behind his jaw to somewhere under his shoulder. It would take only a little pressure to open it.

  Ash tightened his grip on the hilt. His palms were slippery. He stared at the passive, sleeping face, eyes gently closed and his mouth just open.

  Savage was pure evil. Ash would be doing the world a favour in killing him. It wouldn’t even be hard; he was asleep and defenceless. This wasn’t like fighting Ravana, or even any of the other rakshasas with their fangs and claws and totally negative attitudes. Ash had bathed in their blood, so why was his hand trembling now?

  Just do it and feel guilty later.

  But his arm wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t even get himself to lean over and sort-of-cut-Savage’s-throat-by-accident.

  Coward!

  Would Savage hesitate? Would Parvati? It wouldn’t even cross their minds. Ash was the Kali-aastra. Death was his job. But still he couldn’t strike.

  I can’t kill a defenceless man.

  “Difficult, isn’t it?” whispered Savage, his eyes still closed.

  “Don’t move.”

  “I am completely at your mercy.”

  “I could kill you right now.”

  “Yes, you certainly could,” said Savage. “But I doubt it. Heroes don’t murder people in their beds.”

  “Just watch me.” Ash leaned over Savage, the flat of the dagger on his skin.”

  “You do it and your friend will remain cold and dead in her grave.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Brahma-aastra, of course. The Life Giver.” Savage’s eyes opened slowly. “I can bring your friend back.”

  “Yeah, as a zombie. No thanks.”

  “Listen to me, Ash. Do you think I’d waste all this time, money and effort if I didn’t know how to do it properly? I’m insulted you think so little of my abilities.”

  “How?”

  “Let me get up and I’ll show you.”

  Ash held the blade to Savage’s throat. “You stay right there. Just tell me.”

  “Is that it? You expect me to talk?”

  Savage was bluffing. He wanted to drag things out, hoping one of the rakshasas or loha-mukhas outside might come in and rescue him. Enough was enough. “No, Savage, I expect you to die.”

  Sweat shone on Savage’s wrinkled face. “Listen,” he said with rare desperation. “I’ve read the histories of Ashoka, how he tried to use it and all he awoke were monsters, zombies as you call them, instead of living, breathing humans. Agreed?”

  “The mantra, the spell, that activated the aastra was wrong” said Ash. “There’s a mispronunciation in there, or some other error that’s crept in over time. That mistake means that when you use the Brahma-aastra on the dead they don’t come back, not as they once were.”

  Now Savage smiled – sly, reptilian. “But there was one person who knew the correct, flawless mantra. He learned it from Brahma himself.”

  “Ravana.”

  “Yes. Lord Ravana knew the spell perfectly. But because he was a rakshasa, he couldn’t use the aastra.”

  “And you know it? The proper mantra?”

  “I know where it is. And with your help, I could get it and save your friend. I’m the only hope she has.” Savage turned slowly so they faced each other. “The Brahma-aastra is no weapon. It cannot be employed for anything but healing. Used properly, it can repair any wound, cure any sickness, raise the dead. Look at me. I’m dying, boy. The diamond is my only hope. Do you honestly think I’d use it if there was a risk of being turned into some mindless, shambling monstrosity?”

  “How do I know this isn’t some plot to bring Ravana back? You did it before.”

  “You’re the Kali-aastra, boy. When you killed Ravana, you killed him for good. And why would I bring him back now? I only freed him to regain my youth and learn more sorceries. I was going to destroy him myself afterwards, using Kali’s arrowhead.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Who would want to live in a world
ruled by Ravana? Not me. I just wish you’d waited until I’d absorbed more of his magic, at least enough to stop me looking like this.”

  What should he do? Savage couldn’t be trusted, but everything he said made sense.

  And Gemma could be brought back to life. Hope surged through him again. Think what it would be like, having her back. All the damage, all the mistakes, would be undone. He could still save her.

  “I’m no super-villain, Ash,” said Savage. “I’m old, weak and dying, trying to hang on to whatever life I have left. Would you deny a person, terminally ill, the chance to save himself? Of course you wouldn’t. Let me prove myself. If I am telling the truth, then think of the lives we’ll save, starting with your friend. If I’m lying or can’t awaken the Koh-i-noor, then kill me. I won’t stop you. I don’t want to go on like this.”

  Ash lifted the dagger away. “One chance, Savage. That’s all you’ve got.”

  “That’s all I’ll need.” Savage swung his feet off the bed. He put his hand on the cane. “Shall we?”

  “Wait.” One hand still holding the katar point in Savage’s back, Ash whipped his scarf round the old man’s neck, so it became a leash. “I wouldn’t want you running off.” He pushed Savage out of the tent.

  Ash kept close behind Savage, ready to use him as a shield if anyone tried to attack him. Everywhere he looked there were loha-mukhas and rakshasas. “Tell them to back way off.”

  “You heard him,” said Savage.

  The nearest, the Shiva statue and the stone lion, obeyed, their faces blank. The monkeys and the huge David watched, their joints creaking as they moved their heads to follow Ash and Savage’s walk into the heart of the encampment. Seagulls cried overhead and the sea rustled below, but otherwise the only sound was Ash’s galloping heart.

  If Savage tried to double-cross him, it would be the last thing he ever did. Ash would skewer him and pray the death energies would be great enough for him to fight his way out.

  “Looks like rain,” Savage said, peering at the black clouds in the distance that just hid the dawning sun. “Morning, Jackie.”