The Silver Anklet (5 page)

“Just a bit farther,” said Raani. She wiped her face for the umpteenth time and fanned it with her dupatta.

Tara's thirst intensified. A sudden panic gripped her. They had left with nothing but a lantern or two, and without telling anyone. If anything happened to them, no one would know. Rescue would be out of the question. Had she done the right thing, urging the others into danger?

She shook her head, trying to shake off the images of everything that could befall them in the forest. She had to focus on the boys and Kabir's sister. No time to worry about themselves.

Her mind made up, she strode through the moonlit forest, its floor dappled with silver.

Raani halted next to a prickly bush. “Here!” she said.

They all crowded round it, straining to see what Raani had.

“Give me some light,” said Ananth. They moved back a bit as he and Kabir examined the bush and the area around it. Even to Tara's untrained eye, there seemed to have been quite a struggle here. The bushes were broken, leaves crushed at waist height. The ground underneath was churned up by footprints.

Kabir stooped for a quick look. He wiped his wet face with his sleeve and Tara was sure it wasn't all sweat.

“They were definitely here. All three of them,” said Kabir in a wobbly voice. “Sadia!” he called out.

“Shhhhh,” said Tara. “Don't yell. They must have gone by now. Yelling will only warn them of our arrival, silly.”

“Don't call me silly,” said Kabir. “And don't order me around. I don't like it.”

Tara opened her mouth, but decided not to say anything after all. She knew he was worried sick just as she was.

Ananth knelt. “The footprints show that more than one animal was here,” he said. He examined the ground carefully. “Two, maybe even three.”

“Looks like they went that way,” said Kabir. “If I get my hands on those hyenas, I'll tear them limb from limb.” He stood up, breathing heavily.

“Calm down, Kabir,” said Ananth. “Getting angry isn't going to bring them back. We need to think this through.”

“Not when my sister's life is at stake,” said Kabir. “You be calm if you like. I'll handle the hyenas my way. I've brought my knife and I'm not afraid to use it.”

“We better get a move on,” said Ananth. “We'll follow the footprints as long as we can and then hope something else can show us the way. Let's go.”

The trees squeezed them into single file once more.

At times they grew so close to each other, it was difficult to walk through and the group had to take a detour.

The light of the moon was almost obscured by the thick canopy overhead that trapped the heat. It gathered over their heads, getting hotter and heavier by the second.

They sweated, swatted flies, and trudged on.

“How long have we been walking?” asked Raani.

“Must be hours already, no?”

“Barely an hour,” said Ananth.

“Oh.”

Poor delicate flower
, thought Tara.
She's tired already!

Raani better not want to stop and rest
. Three lives were at stake and Tara meant to press on. The shadows in the forest deepened. The mosquitoes buzzed and bit mercilessly. Very soon they'd have to rely on Miss Night Queen to show them the way. Around them, the forest seemed to awake in a new and sinister way.

“Ananth,” said Tara.

“Hmmm.”

“I'm really worried!”

“Of course you are, Tara. We all are. Three children in the forest, alone at night with the hyenas. I pray they're all right.”

“I don't mean that,” said Tara. “I mean —”

He stopped and turned to face her. “Don't you dare start that again! We have enough to worry about already.”

“Start what?” asked Kabir. “What's she hiding?”

“Tell us,” said Raani. “If there's something odd or dangerous, Tara shouldn't be keeping it to herself — we all have a right to know.”

“It's nothing,” said Ananth. “Just her imagination.”

“No!” said Tara. “Listen to me. I know it sounds bizarre, but there's more here than we understand. I pray that by the time we know what it is, it's not too late.”

“Tara, it's hyenas,” said Ananth stubbornly, “plain and simple.”

“
Now
you believe there is a hyena, do you?” said Tara. “You didn't believe me when I told you that earlier.”

Ananth shrugged. “All right, I was wrong. I'm sorry. Now what?”

“There's something more here. I feel it. I know it.”

“Rubbish!” said Ananth.

“Let's move on,” said Kabir. “You and Tara can figure out whether you'd like the rest of us to understand what you're saying, or look the other way while you both squabble. I'm getting tired of it already.”

There was a distinct edge to his voice and Tara cringed. Ananth already thought she was a fool to worry so much. With his short fuse, Kabir was sure to react the same way. What about Vayu? What would he say if she told him what had been troubling her all this while. She stopped.

Behind her Vayu halted, too. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Tara stooped and whipped the anklet off her foot. She clutched it tightly in her hand. “I'm fine,” she said. The cold silver bit into her palm, giving her a small measure of relief. If it fell off they would have no protection at all. Let Ananth laugh right now, but she knew.
She knew
in her heart that something had begun the moment the children had been snatched and she was afraid.

There was a loud slap. Tara whirled round.

“Mosquito,” said Vayu. He held out his palm. It was streaked with blood. The insects swarmed around them, enveloping them in a bubble of incessant noise and itchy bites. She wiped her sweaty face and waved her arms around her. It was futile. Ananth walked on, ignoring the buzzing, conserving his energy. A mosquito flew up her nose. She promptly pinched it — one less to worry about from the millions that surrounded her.

Ananth had taken the lead with Raani and Kabir following. She and Vayu brought up the rear. Vayu gasped and wheezed as he plodded behind Tara. He seemed to be the least fit of them all. Would he last till they reached the children? The thought nagged her more incessantly than the mosquitoes.

They had been walking steadily for a while now.

Ananth peered intently at the path ahead.

“Should we rest?” said Raani in a muffled voice.

She had swaddled her head in her dupatta and only her forehead showed, shiny with sweat. “We've been walking for ages. Don't you think we should stop and er … discuss things?”

“No. It's too early,” said Ananth. “When it's pitch-black we won't be able to move as quickly.”

“Why d' you think I'm here?” said Raani. “Light or no light, we'll still be able to go on. But I have to rest now. I'm exhausted.”

“Ananth's right,” said Tara. “We can't stop now. Surely you can hang on for a little longer?”

“Kabir, what do you say?” asked Raani. There was a whine in her voice that made Tara itch to slap her.

“No,” he said. “Sadia is counting on me and Suraj must be feeling the same way. We have to forget about us and think of them, and if possible, move faster!”

Raani sucked in her breath.

“It's all right, Raani,” said Vayu. “We're coming up to a clearing in a short while. If we're lucky, there might still be that hidden stream —
oooffff
!”

Vayu tripped and fell flat on his face.

“Are you all right?” said Tara. She knelt to help him.

“Can't even watch where he's going,” Raani muttered loud enough to be heard. “Why on earth anyone would name him after the wind is beyond me. Clumsy oaf.”

Vayu stood up immediately. “I'm fine. Sorry,
sorry
… just tripped!”

“Careful,” said Ananth. “Let's go.”

Tara's ears burned, wondering what Vayu must be going through because of this verbal attack. She wanted to shake the arrogance and meanness out of Raani, but instead she focused on the path ahead; the forest was getting more treacherous by the minute.

They plodded onward, pulling aside thick vines, ducking under low branches, trying not to trip on exposed roots. The light was so dim now, Tara could barely discern Kabir's tall figure ahead of her.
At least we don't have any
animals to fight off
, thought Tara thankfully.

At that very moment something grunted. It was soft, but menacing.

“What was that?” said Raani.

“Shhh,” said Kabir. “Wild boar, I think.”

Instantly, Tara remembered a young boy from Morni who had been badly mauled by a boar — it hadn't been a pretty sight. But where was the animal hiding? She turned her head, trying not to move her body or let a single leaf rustle.

They all froze, listening intently.

“Can anyone see it? Raani, can you?” said Vayu softly. “Shall we run?”

“Stand still,” whispered Ananth. “Running is the last thing we should do. It'll show itself.”

As if on cue, a dark shape trotted out of the bushes to their right, followed by four smaller shadows.

“A wild sow,” breathed Kabir. “They're very, very dangerous. No one move!”

The sow sniffed the air. Her eyes glowed like embers in the dark. Behind her they saw four tiny pinpricks of red light. Tara stared at them, ready to run the moment they moved. The sow gave one more grunt, turned and trotted back into the bushes, babies in tow.

Tara exhaled, her lungs bursting for air. “That was very close,” she said. “Raani, I thought you were keeping an eye out. Couldn't you have warned us?”

“I
am
keeping an eye out,” snapped Raani, “on the path ahead. If you want me to look out for animals, you walk ahead and help Ananth. I can't do two things at once.”

“Oh, come on you two,” said Ananth. “Stop it! No one could have seen that sow — she was well-hidden. The important thing is that we all kept our heads and no one got hurt.”

Tara did not bother to reply, nor did Raani. More dank forest, rogue branches, and clouds of mosquitoes slid past. Then it was pitch-black. One moment she could see the silhouettes of her companions and the next, nothing. Not even her hand in front of her face.

The forest was alive around them. Tara moved closer to her companions, their laboured breathing her only guide now. Branches rustled overhead. Tara's skin crawled as she remembered the python above Suraj's head when they had last escaped into the forest.

“You better take the lead, Raani,” said Ananth. “Find someplace where we can rest for a short while. I don't want to light the lanterns just yet. Oh, and keep a lookout for any animals. If they decide to attack now, we're doomed.”

They all slowed while Ananth and Raani switched places.

“Hold on to the person in front of you,” said Raani, “and follow me. I think I see a clearing up ahead.”

Tara held onto Kabir's sweaty shoulder. Vayu's hand rested light on hers. Though the heat from his hand seared her burning skin, it was comforting. The darkness was a living thing, intent on smothering her. She took a few deep breaths to calm her racing pulse, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

“Oh my God!” breathed Raani. “Oh no.” Tara bumped into Kabir in front of her and realized he had stopped.

“What happened?” Tara asked. “Is it that sow again?

Should we run?”

“What is it?” asked Kabir.

Raani was silent. What had she seen? Was it so horrible that she was paralyzed with fear? Tara tensed, ready to flee. But in which direction? In the darkness, it was all one and the same.

“Raani, what
is
it?” asked Ananth. “Don't stand there like a damn fool. What d' you see?”

“I-I see …” she said, and fell silent again.

“Speak up, Raani, or I'll slap it out of you,” said Tara. “Stop scaring us.” Her stomach was in knots. Why didn't Raani say something?

“It's not an animal,” said Raani. “Light the lantern.

Quick.”

It's
him, thought Tara,
he's here
. She was right. He had come back.

There was a faint clinking, the striking of a match. The flare momentarily lit the clearing ahead. It was empty. Tara breathed a deep sigh of relief.
That Raani!
She should have been called Drama Queen instead of
Night Queen.

Darkness slithered away as soon as Ananth lit the wick in the lantern. Raani was not with them. She was crouched a short distance away, staring at the ground. They ran toward her, their gigantic shadows keeping pace.

Tara stopped just behind Raani. Her throat closed up. Her heart pounded against her chest.

They had found Rohan.

— four —
The Temple

T
ara dropped to her knees, trembling. The heat had inexplicably disappeared, replaced by a numbing chill.

She stared at Rohan. His sightless eyes stared back at her, an expression of horror frozen on his face. He looked like he had been in a struggle; his arms and legs were covered with bite marks, his ripped clothes stiff with dried blood.

He was dead.

“No! Oh no,” she sobbed. “NO!”

Only a few hours ago this face had smiled up at her.

Begged for money for a ride on the Ferris wheel. She would have given anything to turn back the clock. If only she had known what was in store for him, she would have kept a tight hold of Rohan till she took him back to Morni with Suraj. Ananth pulled Tara to her feet.

She sobbed into his shoulder, aching to do something, anything, but aware that there was nothing she could do to bring him back to life.

“Shhhh, Tara,” he said. “Get a hold of yourself. It'll … it'll be all right.” His voice trembled, a leaf in a breeze.

She pushed his arms away. “How can you say that? Rohan's dead. Suraj and Sadia are still missing. It's my fault — I should never have let them out of my sight. What have I done? How am I to live with this? I killed him!”