Saleem whimpered and Charles’s jaw was tight as he gazed at the monster.
‘Keep going,’ Jack shouted above the roar.
They went more quickly now and in less than five minutes reached the far end of the hall. There they found an arch that led into a passage lit only by a faint, silvery glow at the far end. Jack drew the pistol and led the way down the hall. The thump and bellow of the mill avatar still echoed about them, but gradually became more muffled. The air was hot and close and Jack felt sweat beading under his tunic.
At the end of the passage he paused, looked cautiously around the corner and saw a small, plain room with a pile of coal against one wall. The only other exit was an archway with angular sigils engraved across the top. The markings looked like the secret script of the siddhas. Although he couldn’t read them, he recognised the shapes from papers on Jhala’s desk.
He paused before the arch. Beyond lay a further passage, slightly better illuminated by the same silvery radiance. A strong scent of sattva hit him in the face and the hair shivered on the back of his neck. He’d never been this deep into a mill and he couldn’t help recalling the rumours he’d heard from his countrymen: that the siddhas drank human blood; that the souls of Europeans were trapped inside the avatars; even that the siddhas were the Devil’s apostles on earth. These wild claims were far from the truth – Jack knew enough about the siddhas to be sure of that – but at the same time he found himself reluctant to go further.
He heard a metal screech behind him, louder than the din of the mill. He glanced back down the hall they’d just travelled along, seeing the faint red glow of the mill avatar, but nothing else.
‘Was that one of those things?’ Saleem tugged at the ginger fluff on his chin.
Jack couldn’t see any movement at the end of the passage, but all the same, the train avatars could be close. It was too risky now to go back and find another way out.
‘Follow me.’ He strode through the archway, passing beneath the jagged sigils.
They jogged down the passage, the pale light growing stronger. The walls were made of some form of black, gleaming stone that was moist when Jack’s hand brushed against it.
The passage turned to the right and then opened up into a larger, cooler chamber. The room looked something like a workshop and something like a fishmonger’s. Dangling from hooks about the walls were what appeared to be the limp parts of smaller avatars – metal fish heads, lobster claws, backbones and fine ribs. Flayed and decapitated creatures lay on benches with their innards spilling out and bleeding oil. The whole place was lit by a sickly glow, but Jack couldn’t determine the source of the light.
‘What is this place?’ Charles hissed.
‘Don’t know,’ Jack said, although clearly this was where avatars had once been built and repaired.
He crossed to the far side of the room and parted a curtain of hanging avatar pieces, the metal scraping and tinkling like cutlery. Beyond this was another workshop, even larger than the first, dotted with openings that led in all directions to further chambers. The place was a warren and it would be easy to get lost.
‘Jack.’
Jack turned and saw Charles pointing through the screen of dangling metal. Saleem was still standing at the entrance to the first room, licking his lips and staring at the grotesques hovering around him.
‘Hurry up.’ Jack was growing concerned at Saleem’s nervousness. There was no telling what the lad might do if he got a fright.
Saleem took a step into the room. A harsh screech, like the cry of some giant bird, resounded up the passage behind him. He jumped and rushed over to Jack and Charles.
‘Stay close,’ Jack said. ‘And pull yourself together.’
Saleem glanced up, eyes wide, and nodded as he bit his bottom lip.
Jack pressed on, keeping straight and dodging the benches that blocked their way. The train avatars could still be following them and he wanted to get as far ahead of the creatures as he could. At the same time, there might be further enemies within the workshops themselves and he kept a close eye on the surroundings, watching for any quick movement that might indicate the presence of something hostile.
They went through chamber after chamber, arch after arch. By travelling in a straight line Jack hoped he wouldn’t get lost. He was increasingly surprised by the size of the place and started to wonder how long it would take to find a way out.
He heard another metal screech off to the left. He stopped and peered through the receding arches and suspended avatar parts. He saw nothing, no movement of any sort. But then there was a further screech, slow this time, like a creature in agony.
‘This way.’ He ducked through an arch to his right and ran, smashing through the jangling metal screens.
After they’d charged along for about two minutes, he paused to catch his breath. With Saleem and Charles panting beside him, he gazed back through the swaying curtains. He saw no sign of anything behind them.
Saleem gasped, tripped and fell against a bench, sending pieces of metal clattering to the floor.
Jack grasped the pistol, spun round. His heart was in his throat.
Saleem was on the floor and scrambling back to his feet. In front of him, hidden in a recess, stood a train avatar. Jack pointed the pistol and almost pulled the trigger, but then noticed that the creature was completely still, its claws and stalks drooping and the fire within it dead.
He lowered the pistol. ‘It’s all right. It’s not active.’
Saleem stood, knocking over further bits of metal, and edged back from the lifeless beast.
Jack went to turn away, then froze. One of the creature’s feelers had flicked upright. Flame roared alight in its abdomen, the glow escaping between the cracks in the carapace. It raised its claw, gave a harsh squeal and lunged at Saleem.
Saleem stumbled back, slipped, almost fell, turned and sprinted across the room. Charles wrenched the musket off his shoulder and aimed. Jack fired and the pistol flashed and kicked. The ball tinged against the beast’s iron cladding, but seemed to cause no damage.
The creature jolted to a stop. Chains held it in place, and although it struggled against them it couldn’t break free. It roared, grumbled and snapped its outstretched claws.
‘You all right?’ Jack called over to Saleem.
Saleem nodded, eyes shining.
The avatar paused for a moment, then tried to lunge again. One of the chains was wrenched from the wall and spilt across the ground, but the others held firm.
‘This way.’ Jack charged out of the room. He didn’t stop to see if Charles and Saleem were following, but he could hear their boots clacking on the stone floor.
He ran through a wide arch that was bordered by more sigils, and then came to a halt so suddenly that Charles smacked into him from behind. They were in an octagonal chamber that was far larger than the previous workshops. Blackened pipes veined the walls, twisting up towards a distant ceiling. Pallid light trailed down like cold liquid, only faintly illuminating the room. In the centre rose a monolithic statue of a man sitting cross-legged, his chest bare and his long hair tied in a topknot. His eyes were closed and there was an ambiguous trace of a smile on his lips. A beaded necklace wound about his neck, and his hands, with index fingers and thumbs pinched, rested on his bent knees.
Jack reeled from the overpowering smell of sattva – it grated in his throat and lungs so that he felt he was drowning in honey.
‘I can smell something sweet.’ Saleem shoved his hand over his nose and mouth. ‘Poison.’
‘You’ll be all right,’ Jack replied. ‘Let’s find a way out.’
He shivered. It was cold in the room, but more than that he recognised the statue – Sarvesh Brahmarishi, the first siddha. He’d heard all about the Brahmarishi during his training in yoga. Jhala had explained that it was Sarvesh who had first discovered how to smelt sattva more than 800 years ago, and had gone on to form the order of the siddhas. The descendants of that order had fought alongside
a prince named Jaidev Chauhan 200 years later to defeat the Mohammedan invaders and found Rajthana.
‘What on God’s earth is this?’ Charles was standing to the side of the statue.
Jack walked over and saw a raised circular dais, on top of which stood a mass of pipes, tubes and wires, all covered in soot. Metal prongs rose like claws around the edges of the machinery and in the centre was an iron surface, engraved with what appeared to be a siddha in a robe and turban. The siddha held aloft an amorphous lump that looked something like a foetus.
‘It’s nothing.’ Jack didn’t want to alarm the others, particularly Saleem. But from the engraving it looked as though the device were something to do with binding avatars to the material world.
At any rate, the room gave him an unholy feeling, as if some violent crime had taken place there and still hung in the air like a wronged spirit.
He cleared his throat. ‘Come on. We can’t stand around here.’
They found an arch in the far wall, and Jack felt a weight lifting as they left the chamber.
They were in another workshop, with the same layout of arches leading to further workshops for as far as he could see in the dim, silvery light.
Which way now?
He picked a direction at random and set off, moving quickly, but no longer running. He tried to tread as quietly as he could. He gazed ahead through the disappearing arches and saw no sign of the avatars, but also no sign of a way out.
Once they were well away from the statue chamber, he paused to reload the pistol, and then they sneaked forward for another ten minutes or more. The sound of the mill avatar had now faded to a hushed thumping. A cool breeze touched his right cheek. He sniffed and detected a hint of distant trees and grass beneath the stronger notes of coal and sattva – the smell of the night air. There had to be an exit nearby.
He went to the right now, following the scent. Twice he lost the smell and had to retrace his steps until he picked it up again. Finally, he found an archway that took them out into another giant hall with ribbed girders arcing far above. A harness hung from the gloomy ceiling but there was no mill avatar within the chains. The only light filtered in from outside through a colossal arch in one wall.
‘Thank the Lord,’ Charles said. ‘That place was unholy.’
‘Praise to Allah,’ Saleem said.
‘We’re not out of here yet,’ Jack said. ‘Keep your voices down.’
They crept about the side of the chamber and came to the arch. Jack peered outside and saw an empty square, dotted with spent round shot, cracked paving stones and shell holes. Vague white lines were scattered about – skeletons, hundreds of them. They lay scratching at the ground, grasping for weapons that had been removed long ago, the remains of their clothing now tattered fragments that lifted at each call of the wind.
There was no sign of any living creature – or avatar.
Saleem’s breathing was short and loud.
‘Let’s go,’ Jack said. Their best hope was to get out of the mill town completely, get back to the open ground. There might be patrols about, but it was better than dealing with the avatars—
A metal shriek.
Jack’s heart jerked. The gigantic form of a mill avatar, free of its harness, rolled into the street. It raised itself up, the stalks near the top of its head rippling, its maw a scintillating vortex. It gave a bubbling growl, then undulated towards them on its metal ribs.
Charles shouted and fired the musket. There was a flash and a puff of smoke, but it had no effect at all on the creature. Jack couldn’t tell whether the bullet had even hit its intended target.
‘Forget it,’ Jack shouted.
He turned and saw no one behind him. Saleem had vanished.
Damn. Where had the lad gone?
Then he saw, in the distance at the far end of the street, a speck of a figure in white disappearing through an archway. Beyond, he could just see the suggestion of the open plains.
‘This way.’ Jack sprinted towards Saleem. The lad was a fool, but at least he’d run in the right direction.
The avatar came after them, its ridged body grinding against the cobblestones and its teeth whirring and ringing. But it was slow – no faster than a man jogging – and within minutes they’d left it behind.
Smarting at the pain in his chest, Jack arrived at the arch. The open ground stretched for as far as he could see to his right, blurring into the smoke-laced murk. Ahead and to the left lay further mill towns, brooding behind their walls.
But there was no sign of Saleem. Where the hell had the lad gone? The idiot shouldn’t have run off like that. He might have been afraid, but that was no excuse.
‘Saleem! Saleem!’ Charles shouted.
Jack looked down and noticed Saleem’s boot prints leading off across the open ground. They were the only tracks he could see. ‘Over here.’
They ran from the mills as the avatar came lumbering up the street. Jack heard a smack, the impact rippling through the earth. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw that the creature had run into the wall, cracking it in several places. Its mouth shimmered behind the archway, then it reared above the wall, roaring as it swept its feelers through the air. It gave a series of guttural cries that resonated across the plain, but didn’t pursue them.
Jack’s breath was short and black pools were expanding before him. He stopped, bent double, and took a swig of jatamansi.
‘I’m all right,’ he said between gasps when Charles came over to him.
‘That thing’s gone, at least.’ Charles nodded behind them.
Jack looked back and saw that the creature had indeed slithered away up the street. The jatamansi spread a subtle warmth across his chest and he found he could breathe more easily. He stood up straight, grimacing at the continuing jabs of pain, and scanned the dark landscape. There was still no sign of Saleem. Where could the boy have gone? He couldn’t have run fast enough to be out of sight already.
Again Jack’s eyes fell upon Saleem’s tracks in the sandy soil. They would be easy to follow, despite the dim light – there were few other markings and the prints were only minutes old. And yet, Jack didn’t want to waste time tracking the boy. Why should he care what happened to Saleem? The idiot had run off on his own. Jack had to get to London and he couldn’t let anyone slow him down.
But it would be hard to leave Saleem behind. The lad was only sixteen and somehow Jack felt responsible for him, even though there was no reason for it.
Damn it.
‘He went this way,’ Jack said. ‘I can see the tracks.’
Charles glanced at the ground and frowned. ‘Where?’
‘Just follow me.’
Jack led the way across the plain, keeping an eye both on Saleem’s trail and the empty landscape in case another patrol appeared.
‘Saleem!’ Charles shouted.
‘Quiet,’ Jack said. ‘There might be Rajthanans about.’
After they’d jogged for ten minutes, Saleem’s tracks suddenly stopped. Jack frowned and crouched to study the ground. A ten-foot-wide circle of soil had been disturbed, wiping out the trail. It looked as though the earth had been churned with a hoe and then flattened again.
‘What is it?’ Charles asked.
‘Don’t know.’
Jack walked across the circle to see if the tracks continued on the other side. A few steps in he smelt a powerful waft of sattva. He stopped. What could have caused that?
‘I’m sinking,’ Charles shouted.
At that moment Jack noticed the ground around his own feet was crumbling away from under him. ‘Get back.’
But it was too late. The ground slipped away and down, funnelling into a rapidly widening hole. Jack grasped at the side of the newly formed crater, but the soil was loose and there was nothing to hold on to. Both he and Charles were sliding down, helpless.
The ground at the base of the crater seemed to boil. Metal feelers rose through the earth.
What the hell . . . ?
Jack clawed futilely at the earth. He found himself shouting involuntarily. For a second he saw mandibles and a steel limb of some sort beneath him, then something grabbed his leg and dragged him with immense force through a thin layer of soil.
13
Jack hit the floor of a tunnel – hard. He passed out.
The next thing he knew he was hurtling along at great speed. It was completely dark, but he could sense earth walls racing past him. He was being held by the leg and dragged along on his back. He could hear Charles shouting nearby in the darkness.
He passed out again.
He came round as he rolled down a slope, bumping against metal and wooden objects. A terrible stench, like rotting vegetables, hit his nostrils.
He landed on something soft, but the impact still jolted him badly. His head felt like broken glass and an ache oozed across his chest.
It was pitch black all around him.
He heard gasps nearby and then voices – Charles and Saleem’s.
‘Jack, are you there?’ Charles called out.
Jack tried to reply, but his breathing was so intermittent he couldn’t raise his voice beyond a wheeze. He tried to force his lungs open. Darkness spread over him – he was going to faint again. He felt along his side for the jatamansi bottle. It was still in his pocket, thank God. He pulled the stopper off and took a sip.
‘Jack!’ Charles called again.
Jack’s chest eased and the air filtered back into his lungs. ‘Over here.’
He heard movement, the clattering of metal and the slurp of mud. A match fizzed alight and Charles appeared, holding the flame in front of him, his face heavy in the dim light. Saleem stood nearby, his features ashen.
Jack sat up and felt beneath him; he’d landed on a pile of damp straw. He could see little of the surroundings, other than a few mounds of rubbish and the steep earth slope he’d just rolled down. The smell of rot and filth made his stomach clench. ‘Where are we?’
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