ASH MISTRY AND THE CITY OF DEATH (17 page)

hey tumbled over and over as they fell. Ash froze. All he could do was stare at the kaleidoscope of blurring dark strips of the iron bridge and the headlights above and below him, reflecting off the raging waters as they crashed and surged between the massive concrete legs of the bridge. The wind howled as he cartwheeled through the air, ripping the tears from his eyes and the breath from his mouth. He took a single gasp and locked shut his teeth as—

—they slammed into the river and all went black.

Ash shook himself to consciousness a second after hitting the water. Water gurgled in his mouth and he almost swallowed again as the surface, glistening with moonlight, receded away. The monsoon-swollen current ripped him and his captor along as fast as they were sinking, and a second, bone-jarring jolt punched the air from his lungs as they crashed into one of the concrete plinths that the bridge stood upon. The monkey’s grip slackened, loosening its hold on his left side, and Ash heaved hard, but then the water accelerated between them and Ash was scraped along a surface, scouring the skin off his body. He bit down ferociously to hold in his scream.

How long could he hold his breath? Not long enough. Even though he was far more powerful than a normal human, he had his limits, and being submerged under a million tons of water was one of them. Savage hadn’t needed to kill him up close and risk Ash returning more powerful than ever, like the last time. He was going to die down here, and this time there would be no coming back.

While the marble monkey was heavy, the river was stronger, and they turned over and over like a pebble, bashing along with the flotsam and jetsam of garbage that lay at the foot of the bridge.

I can’t hold on
. Fire filled Ash, and he just wanted to breathe. Blood pounded in his skull as he fought the crushing weight of the water and the stone creature’s embrace. Then, in the corner of his eye, he glimpsed light shining off metal. Instinctively he threw his weight towards it, kicking madly with his freed legs, desperate to shift direction, just a few centimetres.

He hit the river bottom and rolled in the mud upon the stones, some small and others the size of boulders. He blinked the mud from his eyes and saw the metal object three metres away. It was the rusty skeleton of a motorised rickshaw, half submerged in the bank. The cloth canopy had long since disintegrated and the front wheel had sheared off. It was this, half buried in the mud, that Ash wanted.

Oh God, he had to breathe! Lungs and chest aching, he could barely think; his head felt fat and swollen in agony. His jaw throbbed as he locked it shut.

He twisted his arms and something creaked. Even with his ears filled with the raging waters, he heard, he felt, the monkey’s left arm give. The impact with the plinth must have cracked the loha-mukha’s arm, weakening it. Driven insane with desperation, Ash pulled and shoved, not caring if he broke his own arm, needing to get out. The stone groaned as he worked his entire torso from side to side. The monkey’s arm began to give way. It was a battle now, Ash’s body both his saviour and his enemy. If he could just hold his breath a few seconds longer… but the more he struggled, the more he wanted to open his mouth; instinct fought will.

The monkey’s arm bent. It snapped.

Left arm free, Ash pushed and stretched towards the wheel rim jutting out of the mud. He leaned as far as he could, kicking the water with his heels to tilt him another couple of centimetres. If he could just reach it…

His first two fingers scratched the rim, and that was enough.

Ash dragged the rim closer, pulling against the muddy grip. It was about a foot in diameter, a heavy steel circular disc weighing about fifteen pounds. The edge wasn’t particularly sharp, but it was all he had.

Bubbles slipped from his lips. He couldn’t hold on much longer.

Ash lifted it up with his left hand and swung it as hard as he could through the water against the monkey’s right arm, aiming at the fingers.

The blow glanced off, barely chipping it.

Oh God, he couldn’t do it. More bubbles burst out, and Ash’s arms and legs felt heavier than the monkey now. He struggled to lift the disc.

Concentrate. Concentrate
. He glared at the thick fingers that held him trapped. His own tightened round the heavy steel disc.

Ash rammed the disc against the monkey’s hand. Its fingers shattered as the last of Ash’s breath tore free in a burst of bubbles. He dropped the disc and pushed. He pressed his heels against the inanimate stone, heaved with his left hand, and twisted his body as far as it would go. The jagged edges of the broken limb dug into his belly, tearing deeper into his flesh the harder he struggled. Blood, black and cloudy, swelled from the tears. He didn’t care.

Ash spasmed as his body began to give up. His will, his heart raged, but he wasn’t strong enough.

Savage wins.

No. That could never happen.

The thought pushed him harder, beyond the madness of this fight. Beyond the dark river and the mud and the bubbles disappearing above him.

Another centimetre. That was all there was between him and Savage. It came down to a distance shorter than a fingernail. If he couldn’t get that much further, Savage would have won.

Not in this universe.

The monkey’s fractured hand snapped, and Ash kicked free.

Thrashing upward, his neck stretched as far as it would go, Ash kicked and flailed towards the surging surface, eyes locked on the undulating patterns of moonlight above him. The current, still strong, carried him three metres downstream for every one he rose. His arms felt like lead, and each stroke took double the effort of the last. His legs barely kicked now. The surface seemed miles away.

He gave up. His arms sank to his side, slowly, and his feet dangled loose and powerless in the flowing water.

Then someone touched his shoulder. Long, stiff fingers caressed his hand and Ash snapped hold. He locked his hands round the extended limb and pulled.

He gasped and swallowed as he rose free of the water. Then he looked for his rescuer. No, not someone, he realised – the branch of a tree, leaning over the water’s surface, its tips submerged. It had been the twigs he’d felt on his back.

His heart pounded with joy and fear. He’d come so close, so close. Every part of him quivered with exhaustion, but Ash heaved himself up the branch until only his legs dangled in the river. Then, clumsy as a snail, he slid along on his belly, wincing as the twigs and stubs poked him. Eventually he dropped down along the marshy edge of the river. The bridge was a quarter of a mile away and dark. Savage was gone. Shivering, aching, bleeding, puking river water, Ash waded the last few metres and crawled up the muddy bank.

C’mon, the hard bit’s over
.

Savage was on his way to get the Koh-i-noor. Ash had to warn Parvati. Not only did she have no idea Savage was coming with an army of indestructible statues, but her deadly bite was useless against the loha-mukhas, and Khan’s claws would snap on their impenetrable skin. If he didn’t get going, Parvati and her rakshasas would be slaughtered. Ash couldn’t let that happen, not when they’d parted the way they had.

I have to get back. Warn Parvati that Savage is coming with an army of stone.

But as he crawled through the long grass, Ash collapsed into the wet earth and knew no more.

e looked like one of the kids that clogged the streets of Kolkata, begging at traffic lights or waiting at hotels and posh restaurants for tourists. Ash didn’t care. Covered in dirt and dressed in rags, he headed back to the city by hanging on to the back of a truck as it rattled along the road with the rickshaws and bullock carts.

How long had he been unconscious? He wasn’t sure. A day at least. It was evening by the time he reached the outskirts of Kolkata. He’d managed to beg some bananas and a chapatti, but still shivered with fever. His dip in the river had been almost too much. He closed his eyes.

I want to go home
. There, he’d admitted it. He wanted to see his mum and dad, see Lucky. He’d thought he was tougher. He’d thought he couldn’t be beaten, now that he was the Kali-aastra. Savage had shown him the error of his arrogance. Whatever move he made, Savage countered. Last night had almost been checkmate. And next time?

But he couldn’t leave Parvati. He needed to see her, know she was OK, and make everything good between them.

Thunder rumbled overhead and the clouds, black and fat, hung over the city, ready to burst. The downpour hit just as Ash turned the corner into the English Cemetery.

Something was wrong. Police vans blocked the road and there were crowds gathered at the cemetery gates. People had gathered round a massive hole in the cemetery wall. Piles of rubble lay scattered on the street, over the tombs, and in the undergrowth. Khaki-uniformed policemen held the gawkers back with their long wooden staves, and a lemonade maker had set up his stall beside the broken masonry.

Ash pulled at a man’s sleeve.

“Excuse me, but what happened?”

The man scowled as he looked down at Ash, who was filthy with mud and dust and his clothing in tatters. He brushed his sleeve off, and his hand went to protect his wallet in his pocket. “Begone, boy.”

“What happened?” Ash said, with more than a little firmness, a little more anger.

The man looked down again and took a step back. He touched his neck as if Ash was about to wrap his fingers round it, and swallowed. “No one knows. It happened last night. They say some beggars have been killed.”

“Beggars?”

“Beggars who were using the graveyard for shelter. One of the big mausoleums has been vandalised.”

“Whose?”

“The old Company president. Cornish or something.”

“Cornwall?”

The man nodded.

Ash ran round the back of the graveyard and sneaked over the wall. All around him were shattered gravestones, torn-up trees and demolished tombs. The mausoleum Parvati had used as her headquarters, and as the hiding place for the Koh-i-noor, was nothing but rubble. The domed roof had been smashed in. The bronze doors themselves lay twisted and buckled in the grass five metres away. The surrounding trees were snapped in half, as if something huge, unyielding and incredibly strong had just marched straight through them. The grass and earth were a mess of heavy footprints. Some were way too large and too deep for normal humans.

Savage and his loha-mukhas had struck hard.

Then, on the edge of his hearing, Ash picked up a quiet step. Someone else was hiding here. The bough of the branch above creaked with the weight of a body.

Ash jumped. Ploughing through the branches and curtain of leaves, he grabbed the scruff of a neck and pulled the figure down with him, throwing him to the ground. Then he saw the frightened face.

“John?” Ash whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“Where else could I go?” The boy stared up at him. John was scared, but his big eyes hardened with defiance. “Are you going to kill me now?”

Something black and angry stirred inside Ash as he loomed over John. He had betrayed him and given Savage the Koh-i-noor. What would Kali want? What would Ujba tell him to do? That was easy. But that wasn’t going to happen.

“You put your family first. Who can blame you for that?” said Ash.

“You’re not going to kill me? What about what you said at the cantonment?”

“I had to call Savage’s bluff. I needed him to believe I wanted you dead to absorb your death energies. Sorry if I scared you, but it was the only plan I had.” He held out his hand. “Get up, mate.”

“I
am
sorry.”

“So am I, John.” He really was. John had been desperate, and Ash knew what that was like. There’d been a breakfast, not so long ago, where Savage had promised Ash and his sister freedom in exchange for the Kali-aastra. Ash had given it to him almost immediately when Savage threatened to kill Lucky. He’d handed over the most dangerous weapon in the world to save his sister. John’s crime was no bigger than his. Ash turned back to the broken mausoleum. “Savage and his loha-mukhas?”

“Yes. I got here just before them. I thought maybe I could warn Parvati, but it all happened so fast. Savage just… appeared.”

“Appeared how? In his trucks?”

“No. Just like out of a cloud of smoke. Like a magician. He had his loha-mukhas with him.”

“Then what?”

“A big fight. Savage hung back and got the stone monsters to do all his dirty work. But there was more.” John tapped a fallen slab. “I saw him. He waved his hand and the tombstones just flew through the air. The big doors – he wasn’t even near them and they tore themselves off their hinges.”

“What about Parvati? And Khan?”

“They knew they couldn’t win. She went for the Koh-i-noor, but Savage practically dropped a tree on top of her.” John sighed. “My fault, Ash. I told Savage everything. Where you were, and where they’d hidden the diamond. It was all over in five minutes. He used his magic. It was unbelievable. He was all over the place.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, just ‘poof’.” John pointed at one corner. “One second he was there.” He pointed at another. “Then in an eye-blink, over there. He had his statues doing the same. How can you beat someone like that?”

Teleporting. Savage had mastery over Space. That was a bad thing. “Do you know where Parvati is?”

“I don’t know where any of them are. I’ve been here all day, but no one’s come back.” John glanced around. “What should we do? Wait here?”

“No, we need to go after Savage.” He could wait for Parvati, but there was no guarantee she’d come back here; there was no reason to. Maybe she had gone to chase down Savage already.

“We’ve no idea where he’s gone.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I saw a stamp on the crates he was using to carry some of his statues. It was for the Indian Railways and there was a number, 2841. You have any idea where that goes?”

“Easy to find out. But what difference will that make? He’s got the rakshasas, the stone men, and now the Koh-i-noor,” said John. “There’s no way we can beat Savage.”

“There’s always a way.”

And Ash could think of one, but he didn’t like it.