How did he keep ending up in these situations? Ash was going to have a serious talk with his career advisor when he got home.
It took almost half a day to reach Lanka. The sun passed over its zenith and began its descent over the land behind them. The causeway bore signs of extensive damage the closer they got. Great chunks had been broken off and turned to rubble.
With the city walls a mile ahead, the party paused.
“Battle stations,” ordered Savage. One of the loha-mukhas, a monkey, lowered the trunk it had been carrying. Savage took out a leather gun belt and a bandolier that went over his left shoulder and clipped on to the belt just over his right hip. An old German Mauser ‘Broomhandle’ pistol went into the holster across his belly. He jiggled the belt and bandolier, shifting his shoulders until the gear sat comfortably, and then he put on a pair of thin leather gloves, his tiger cane tucked under his arm. The leather creaked as he flexed his fingers and made a fist. Savage caught Ash watching him.
“What did you expect?” Savage asked. “A whip and fedora?”
“Why do you need them? Can’t you just lightning-bolt everyone? Or just teleport us to where we need to go?”
“I could, but I prefer to save my magic for when it’s truly necessary. You’ve seen what happens when I use it.” He gestured to the satchel. “You want to save some of the power in that for Gemma, don’t you?” He peered at the city walls. “And I can’t teleport because I don’t know where to teleport to. I’ve no idea of the layout. The last thing you want is to jump into a wall, half in and half out. Human and brick atoms are not very compatible.”
Savage continued his preparations, checking and loading his pistol, then counting the rounds on his bandolier and spare ammo in the pouches on the belt. He double-knotted the laces of his boots and gave them a tug. “You won’t believe the number of men I’ve seen die on a battlefield because they tripped over their laces.”
Ash scratched his thumb. “It’s the little things that make all the difference, right?”
Savage tapped the cane against his heel. “It’s a shame we’re not on the same side, boy.”
“Yeah, like together we could rule the galaxy.”
“So sad. In my day we would quote Shakespeare or Homer.”
“I can quote Homer. I’ve memorised entire episodes of The Simpsons.”
“Master, we are ready.” Jackie stood a few metres away, dressed for a fight. Her arms were protected with stiff steel plates with blades projecting from the forearms. Under her T-shirt, her body was covered in a light tawny fur, revealing her muscles across her shoulders and back. Her thick mane rippled in the wind and long fangs filled her elongated jaw. She’d taken off her shoes so her toes, long and tipped with sharp claws, clicked on the stone. Steel plates covered her thighs and shins.
The five hyena rakshasas were similarly armed, protected on the arms and legs, but not over the torso. Ash realised the armour they wore allowed them to transform safely: wearing something over the body would have either prevented it from working or been excruciatingly painful, as their animal shapes were very different from their human ones.
“Lets move,” ordered Savage. The monkeys hoisted the trunk back up and the party continued towards the city, with Ash walking alongside Savage.
“What are you expecting?” asked Ash. The island ahead of them had been sunk under the seas for thousands of years. What could possibly be alive in there that required all this?
“I’m expecting the worst. I always do. Helps me stay alive,” said Savage.
“What are these curses that shark went on about?”
“After Ravana was killed, his brother, Vibheeshana, took the crown. He was almost as great a magician, but without the passion, without the ambition.”
“What happened?”
“The rakshasas left. Soon the city was empty but for Vibheeshana and his court – noble rakshasas holding on to their faded glory. All rather sad and somewhat pathetic. Then on one fateful night there was a terrible storm. Waves, dozens of metres high, crashed on to the shore, and the land shook with violence. By the time the storm broke, Lanka had vanished.”
“Just like that? It seems very… convenient.”
Savage looked towards the island. “Some say it had only been sustained by Ravana’s magic. With him gone, the island just collapsed. Others believe Vibheeshana himself destroyed it. Who wants to rule an empty kingdom? He was frightened that people would come and try to discover Ravana’s secrets or search for treasure among the ruined palaces. So he laid curses and traps all over the island to deter the greedy, and then as a final precaution sent the entire thing to the bottom of the sea.”
“Sounds like this Vibheeshana was a clever guy.”
The walls of Lanka rose straight from the ocean. The causeway had been reduced to rubble for the last hundred metres, and Ash moved step by step, occasionally having to crawl over the broken slabs, slick with seaweed and covered in sharp coral and shells.
He almost didn’t see that the rest of the party had stopped.
“This is it,” said Savage.
Pearly white walls shimmered in the sunlight. When Ash looked deeper into them, there were a myriad of other colours swirling within: reds, pinks, greens, blues and others, fractured and crystalline, sending multicoloured beams deeper into the infinite space within the stone. The twisting rose-hued stones formed strange, glorious tree-like structures along the battlements, their branches made of coral and their trunks encrusted with barnacles. The city looked like it had become overgrown, but with petrified foliage.
Ash gazed up and up. “Those walls must be fifty metres high at least.” He put his hand against them. Perfectly slick; a total nightmare to climb. “You sure you don’t want to teleport?”
“Please, Ash, assume I’ve planned for this.” Savage turned and faced the sea. “I’d stand back too, if I were you.”
The sea looked perfectly calm.
“Any minute now,” said Savage.
“Right. Any minute.”
There were a few waves.
“Impressive,” said Ash. “Not.”
Then the waves rose and tumbled, white foam spraying along the tops. A huge mass moved under the water, rising. Ash pressed back along the wall, fast.
Metre by metre, a vast head appeared. Seaweed hung off it like green dreadlocks and water ran from its brow. Ash groped for handholds as a three-metre wave fell over everyone on the causeway. Everyone, that is, but Savage.
Ash spat out the salty water. “So that’s what you did with the Jagannath.”
The giant stone creature rose until the water only came up to its waist. Up close, in the daylight, it was still utterly awe-inspiring. The head creaked as it gazed down at Savage.
“Please give me a door,” said Savage. He pointed at a spot in the wall. “Just there.”
A massive fist pounded the walls, over and over again. First tiny lines burst like spiders’ webs over the surface. Then chips shot off in all directions, and long, splintering cracks radiated out from the pummelled surface. The sudden, sharp blows echoed well beyond the other side of the city walls. The smaller loha-mukhas buried their fingers in the broken wall and tore out great chunks of the pearly stone, hurling them into the sea. It took no more than a few minutes before a hole had been made, roughly three metres wide and two metres high. The Jagannath stopped and stood still as seagulls circled round its head.
One of the hyena rakshasas crept near. He shook his mottled black fur as he inspected the hole, wrinkled his snout, and growled. He turned to Savage. “Smells bad.”
“I’m not interested in the smell.”
The hyena growled once more and leaped in through the opening. His claws skittered across the rubble, and then there was silence.
A sudden, petrified howl made Ash’s hair stand on end. There was a bark and snapping of jaws, followed by another noise – a faint, mournful keening, or shriek. The hyena yelped, the sound of it fading as though it had fallen down a lo
ng deep well; then nothing.
Savage peered in the hole. “Hmm,” he said. “That’s not a good sign.”
“fter you,” said Savage.
“Now why would I want to do anything that stupid?” asked Ash.
“I thought you were a hero, Ash. Heroes go first.” Savage touched the wall. “You’re the Kali-aastra, destroyer of demons, remember? And this is their city.”
Ash met the cold, arrogant gaze of the Englishman. In the complete blackness of Savage’s eyes, there was a thin circle of deep red where the edge of the iris would have been. Subtle hues lurked within – sometimes deep, like looking into the endless night sky, other times shallow, like black paint across glass.
“Well, if you’re too chicken,” said Ash, “I’ll take a peek.”
The rubble half filled the hole the loha-mukhas had made. Light moved and played on the other side, strange shadows and colours sliding over the broken wall. Ash stepped in, breathing lightly, every muscle and nerve on hyper alert.
The hyena had disappeared.
Ash took control of his breathing, letting his supernatural abilities rise up out of the depths to stir the Kali-aastra into action.
The passage through the wall went on for hundreds of metres, even though the wall itself couldn’t be more than five or six metres thick. As he crouched in the opening, the exit was just a small bead of light at the far end of the crooked tunnel. It looked like reality was being left behind.
Lights danced within the translucent stone. Some of the lights formed almost complete shapes, humanoid and not; others drifted like jellyfish.
Ash shuffled a few metres in, fingers tight round his katar. There was still no sign of the hyena rakshasa, except for a red stain within the wall that faded away the closer he got to it. The tunnel forced him into an uncomfortable crouch, moving crab-like, eyes and ears alert to any danger. He kept low to avoid the rough edges and sharp corners of the broken coral. Small spikes of stone jutted out from the walls, and water dribbled from the cracks, forming small sparkling pools.
“Ouch.” Ash winced as he splashed into one. He hopped out and sat down, inspecting his sole.
A small spine of coral stuck out of the flesh. Not deep, and he pulls the spine out easily.
A spot of blood falls.
Coral spines grow out from the place the blood lands. They thicken every second, and from each branch more sprout, each covered with slim, needle-pointed thorns. Nails of stone mutate into knives, their edges serrated and designed for carving flesh. Within seconds the tunnel is blocked by a wall of deadly thorns, both ahead and behind him. Ash grabs hold, but more spikes erupt from the barriers, piercing his palms. Trapped, unable to go forward or back, he watches in helpless horror as long skewers rise from beneath him and sink down from above. He screams as they bury themselves in his limbs and torso. Blood sprays from his wounds, feeding more of the bloodthirsty stalks. Two narrow needles, their points glistening, push out from the walls and stretch towards his eyes…
Ash rubbed his forehead and inspected his foot and the nail of stone sticking out of it. He had been seeing the future: blood activated the trap. The hyena rakshasa must have stood on a spike or sliced a little skin on one of the edges; all easily done. And the more blood poured out, the faster the deadly stalks grew. He pulled out the small spike and wrapped his scarf round his foot. He’d have to tread carefully and stay out of the puddles.
So he moved slowly along, shuffling forward step by step and giving any edge or spine a wide berth. Sweat dripped from his forehead, fat and hot, running down his tunic and limbs as he focused on the path ahead. It didn’t look like he was getting any closer to the end. How long had he been in here? Minutes? Hours?
The sweat coated his palms and soles. The dampness soaked through the scarf, and when Ash picked his foot up, he saw the faint outline of a red circle on the shining stone.
Move, Ash, move!
Forearms crossed in front, he charged ahead as twigs of sharp coral burst out of the tunnel’s inner walls. He barged through the branches, shattering them before they grew too thick, but he was scored with dozens of cuts. Spear-tipped stalactites sprang out above him. One tore a patch of skin off his back, and more stalagmites shot up, catching his heels with their slim, sharp tips.
Ash roared and dived forward as the tunnel filled with hundreds of teeth, a vast serpent closing its mouth, trapping him within. The exit was right before him, a bright shining light that stood for life and freedom, but if one more hook caught him, he was dead.
Ash tumbled out as the tunnel sealed behind him. He fell flat on his face on warm, sunlit stone. His clothing hung raggedly off his scratched and bleeding body, each cut stinging. “Mega-ouch.” He rolled on to his back and gazed up, happy to see the sun and the sky and the clouds. Happy to be breathing and not completely holey, like a sieve.
The spears and nails of coral scrapped against each other as they retreated into the walls. The tunnel reopened and within seconds there was no sign of the danger. It appeared temptingly safe.
He looked around. The street running along the inside of the perimeter wall was neat with wide marble paving slabs. Large bundles of green seaweed lay against the walls, with long strands criss-crossing the ground like a cat’s cradle, or a web. The buildings here were just tumbledown wrecks. Weird, twisted trees of coral and limestone rose out of the ground and wrapped themselves round the ruins.
But it was the shifting lights that caught Ash’s attention. Shadows flickered across the ground, but there was nothing or no one to cast them. Black shapes slid in and out of the hidden corners, figures made up of the void, with no physical substance beyond the thickness of darkness.
And they whispered to Ash in languages long faded from the world, but full of urging. Cold fingers caressed him; shivers ran down into his soul.
“What do you want?” Ash asked.
Mumbling groans and pitiful moans. He felt the stone-heavy despair, the weariness.
“Well? Are you all right?” shouted Savage from the far side of the tunnel.
“I’m peachy. Come on through,” said Ash. “Just don’t cut yourself.”
The creeping black shapes began to retreat, slowly, warily, their dark thoughts still attending him. The whispers were cruel, angry, but Ash felt their trembling fear too.
Savage Jackie, and the remaining four hyena rakshasas clambered through the tunnel, weapons drawn and eyes searching for danger. Next lumbered in the three-metre-tall statue of Shiva, then came the two stone monkeys, one carrying Savage’s trunk on its head, and finally the two gargoyles.
Jackie gazed about, mouth open in awe. “It’s changed so much.”
Of course. This had been Jackie’s home, many lifetimes ago. For the first time Ash looked at the rakshasa with some sort of understanding. Eternal exiles, that was what rakshasas were; an outcast race. Jackie tenderly put her hand on a nearby door.
“Which way to the palace?” asked Savage.
Jackie bit her lip as she checked the path. Then she pointed northward.
Savage drew his pistol. “Let’s go.”
Ash had never been anywhere so alien. Towers formed of pure coral rose up beside jagged spires of crystal and metal. Streets shimmered with marble, and the squares were decorated with grotesque and monstrous statues of pocked and corroded bronze. Winged fiends with serpentine tongues and leonine bodies sat perched on the rooftops, their bodies covered with multicoloured coral. Many of the buildings had been destroyed, and there was rubble and demolished remains everywhere. War had come to Lanka. Ash crossed a large crater, where the heat of some long-ago blast had turned the entire square to glass. He touched the smooth, curved pit edge.
“Aastras,” said Jackie. “Rama and his army sent down fire from the skies. Lanka burned for many days.”
“You started it,” said Ash. “Ravana kidnapped Rama’s wife.”
Jackie laughed bitterly. “And you think that justified all this? The utter annihilation of a civilisation?�
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They walked on, doubling back where the streets had been destroyed by fallen rubble or transformed by coral and other growth that had crept over the city during the millennia it had lain at the bottom of the ocean. The sky darkened and the clouds shifted from pink to purple.
They entered a large square dominated by what looked like a giant swimming pool, easily over a hundred metres long and almost the same width. Steps led down two metres to the bottom. It was empty but for algae.
Ash noticed Jackie beside the pool, head bowed and palms pressed together. She was praying. As she finished, she met his gaze and started. There were tears in her eyes. Embarrassed, she abruptly wiped them away, then stormed off to speak with the hyena rakshasas.
A rakshasa crying? Ash hadn’t thought it possible.
“The rakshasas are a warrior race,” said Savage, standing beside him on the pool’s edge. “They value their honour more than their lives.”
“Like the Rajputs,” said Ash. The Rajputs were a clan of ancient Indian warriors, and there were plenty of tales of their battles and wars. They would rather die than admit defeat.
“Yes. Very much like the Rajputs.”
“Why was she crying?”
“What do you see, Ash?”
Ash looked at the pool. It was made of large square blocks of sandstone, fitted together so neatly there wasn’t a gap wide enough for a slip of paper. It was clearly for water storage. “It’s a tank, isn’t it? This was how the city’s water supply was distributed. Some tanks would be for washing and bathing, some purely for drinking.”
“Very good. What else?”
Ash walked along the pool. He spotted cracks and black smudges along the stone. “There’s been a fire here.”
“A huge bonfire, in fact. I imagine the sky must have been filled with smoke. Or flame.”
“What did they burn?”
“When the Rajputs face certain defeat, do you know what they do?”
ASH MISTRY AND THE CITY OF DEATH Page 20