ASH MISTRY AND THE CITY OF DEATH (18 page)

“
’ve been waiting,” said Ujba.

Only the spluttering light of mismatched candles opposed the gloomy darkness of the temple. Weird shadows drifted back and forth across the uneven walls – creeping phantoms and ghosts of victims past, trapped where their lives washed the altar. The statue of Kali was glossy red. Blood dripped from her face, into her open mouth and down her bare chest.

“A sacrifice?” said Ash. “Anyone I know?”

“Just a goat,” said Ujba.

“Glad you could restrain yourself.”

Ujba lit another candle. “So, you’ve failed. Again.”

“You know what happened at the cemetery?”

“Of course. I have as many spies here as I do in Varanasi.”

“Then why didn’t you help find Savage? You could have stopped all this.”

Ujba’s lips turned into a fierce frown. “I offered you my help and you rejected it. Why should I offer more?”

“Is this where you say ‘I told you so’? Let me save you the effort. You were right; I was a fool. I can’t beat Savage, not as I am. I need more power.”

“The Soma?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Ash’s heart trembled as he watched Ujba nod. He’d thought the guru might say something, maybe even object because he’d rejected him earlier. But the guru acted as if this was all part of his plan. Like he knew Ash was always going to take the Soma.

“This will show me how to fight? How to destroy anything?” Ash asked. If it worked, then Savage’s loha-mukhas would be no threat.

“Do you know what Kali is?”

“The goddess of death and destruction. What else is there?”

“Kali means black, but the word also comes from Kala – time. Kali is the essence of time. Time is the ultimate force of destruction. Even the universe, in time, will end.”

“And that helps me how?”

“Parvati spoke to you about your past lives, I assume?”

“I’ve even met a few.”

“Once you have taken the Soma, you may step out of time yourself, according to the priests, but the effects vary.”

“I can time travel?” Ash said. If he could do that, then he could repair all his mistakes. He could fix everything. Just hop back and save Gemma.

“No. That is one of the sorceries, and that you will not be taught. No man should have that power. It is the path of fools. Even Ravana, though he knew how to travel back and forth through time, dared not use it. He understood that whichever path we take, it all leads to the same place.”

“Then how will this Soma affect me?”

Ujba tapped his temple. “Inside here is all the wisdom, all the knowledge of all your past selves. Nothing is forgotten, as it is stored in the soul, and you, the Eternal Warrior, have only one soul. You may have been a hundred other people, a thousand, but that is just a suit of clothing upon your true self. Your
self
is unchanging. The soul remembers all those lives. If Kali is generous, and you devout, she will open the paths to all those memories and skills. If you are afraid, you will be able to draw on the courage of Rama. If you are confused, the wisdom of Ashoka. Think what it would be to know all the arts of war, every martial art, every weapon skill.”

“I feel there’s a massive ‘but’ coming.”

For the first time ever, Ujba smiled. Ash couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t a nice smile – too wolfish to be warm – but the lips curled upward and some teeth showed, so technically, Ujba smiled. “Yes. But with so many lives, so many personalities, all advising, all demanding, all trying to control you, your own willpower will be your only defence. Let it waver, even for a moment, and your own personality will be washed away into the sea of all the others. Perhaps for ever, and who knows who may take charge.”

“Oh joy.”

“But the advantages outweigh the risks. Time stretches forward as well as back. You will see the threads of the future, see how one thing affects the other. Glimpses of what lies ahead. If you can understand them, you will be considered wise indeed.”

See the future? Now that was something. “Then let’s get this over and done with.”

Ujba went to his medicine box. Over the next few minutes, in the dim candlelight, Ash watched him mix his ingredients. He ground leaves into a small silver bowl until all was a fine black powder. He worked in silence, whispering mantras as he worked. Ash tried to keep still, but he fidgeted impatiently. He just wanted the medicine and wanted to get out of there, after Savage.

Ujba stroked the razor round the rim of the bowl, making the metal hum. Then he faced Ash. “Blood,” he said.

Ash held out his hand. A moment later there was a small cut and Ash let a few drops drip into the bowl. Ujba stirred as Ash tied a cloth round the thin red line.

“What exactly goes into this Soma?” asked Ash.

“Best you not know.”

“And what will happen to me, when I drink this?”

“It’s poisonous, so you’ll probably die. At least for a while.”

Ash took the bowl and sniffed the contents. Putrid didn’t begin to describe it. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to swallow it, and if he did, there was a good chance it would come straight back up, along with his supper of lentils, potatoes and spinach. “Don’t you have something of a less… fatal full-fat flavour? Y’know, diet Soma or something?”

“You are the Kali-aastra. It will protect you. The Soma will show you Kali.”

“And what if Kali doesn’t like me?”

“Then she will eat your soul.”

“You’re so not selling this,” said Ash.

“Do you want to defeat Savage or not?” asked Ujba. “Did you think it would be easy? That Kali would just give you her blessing, merely because you asked? Gods want sacrifices. They want payment, like everyone else. There is nothing for free in this world or any other.” He reached over to the Soma and drew it back. “I thought we had a deal. But I understand. Next time, when you’re crying over the corpse of another friend, remember I could have helped you.”

Ash looked at the man, then at the bowl. He didn’t want to drink it. It was more than that it would probably kill him; after this, there was no going back. He didn’t know what he might become after drinking the Soma, but he had a feeling the phrase ‘bloodthirsty monster’ might be involved.

But then what if he did meet Savage again and it was just as big a failure as it had been the last time? Would Savage kill Parvati? How many more of his friends would die?

“Give it to me,” said Ash.

Ujba smiled and held out a small brown lump. “Eat this first.”

“What is it?”

“Goor. The flesh of the tiger. It’s consumed by Thugs before they go on their journeys. It’s good luck.”

“Not for the tiger, it isn’t.”

“Be at ease. It’s only raw sugar.” Ash put the lump on his tongue and swallowed. The sweetness might help him hold down the drink.

He raised the bowl to his lips. “How long will the Soma last?”

“If the Soma works properly, it will open a door here.” Ujba tapped the centre of his forehead. “The inner eye. There is no closing the door afterwards.”

“And if it doesn’t work properly?”

“Death, if you are lucky. Insanity if not. Perhaps your mind will crumble under the wisdom of Kali and you’ll spend the rest of your life in a coma or as a drooling imbecile.”

“Oh double joy.”

Ash closed his eyes and gulped quickly, emptying the bowl in three swallows. The liquid burned like that one time he’d drunk some of his dad’s whisky, but as he put the bowl down, he was thinking that it wasn’t that bad after all.

“Bitter,” he said. But that was all.

Only his mouth was dry, very dry.

Ujba leaned closer.

Ash shivered. He felt as if a cold winter wind was blowing. The freezing air cut his skin. A sharp pang gripped his stomach, twisting it and screwing it into knots. He bent over, his muscles seizing up.

Ujba began to fade. Ash reached for him, but his hand moved sluggishly. The pain was increasing, spreading out from his belly to his limbs. It was as if his blood was boiling within him.

Ash spat and stared at the bloody spittle on the tiled floor. His eyes were hot and swollen, bloody tears forming a thin film over them.

“Help me,” he whispered. Another spasm shook him and he buckled under the agony. The pounding of his blood was deafening, and each heartbeat sent bone-breaking tremors through his body.

Ujba looked towards the statue. “Accept my offering, Kali.”

Ash tried to breathe, but all that came out was a feeble hiss. He gazed at Ujba, his vision becoming dull. Then everything faded as his last breath escaped.

sh walks silently towards the light flickering in the darkness. He passes vague, shadowy outlines of others, bodies that are mere cloaks for a single soul that returns again and again for battle. They touch him, phantom caresses both comforting and despairing. There ahead of him shines a figure, a being both human and something more. It is the light from this being that casts all the other shadows.

The Eternal Warrior.

He has no form: it is flesh that has form, and he has worn so many bodies over the endless eons. Ash is merely another.

Ash steps into the pool of light closest to the being. It senses him, and the flames stir and take on a vague human outline. It gazes down at him. It knows what Ash wants.

Ash looks about him. There are others there, ghosts of the past, stirring within the grey fog.

“Who are they?” Ash asks. Some are dressed in bronze armour, heavy scarlet cloaks draped over their shoulders. Some wear jewels and silks, others rags or unfamiliar clothes. They come from all lands and all epochs. They are African, Indian, Mongolian, Caucasian, male, female, young, old. The Eternal Warrior is of all nations, all ages. One man, old and wizened, has the round, flat features of an Inuit. He meets Ash’s gaze with eyes of infinite sorrow.

“They are us,” says the burning soul. “Here to welcome you.”

All of them? The crowd stretches to the horizon, perhaps beyond. Ash hesitates. “I… didn’t know there were so many.”

“Many, but one.”

“No. I can’t do it.”

“She comes.”

Ash turns and faces the pyre. The blue flames roar silently. The touch of Agni, the god of fire, does not penetrate this world.

He sees there is a body lying on the flames. “No. It can’t be.”

“Your old self, to be burned away,” says his soul.

He watches his skin blacken and crack. He sees his hair catch light and the fat dribble off his molten flesh. Bones break out from under the crisp, brittle skin.

A figure rises up out of the fire, tall and fierce.

“You are hers now, Ash.”

She stands upon his burning corpse, and she is beautiful. Her long black limbs glisten with sweat and her chest rises and sinks with panting eagerness. The flames dance around her, shades of blue turning to white, to the colour of a midnight sea, licking her legs and caressing her taut belly.

Kali.

She glares down at him, her red tongue hanging with hunger and her eyes blazing with violence. The third eye, the destroying eye, opens the merest slit and the light from it blinds Ash. The heat is unbearable and he screams.

The fire of her eyes melts him to the core, stripping off skin and muscle and bone to what is beneath it all: his soul, exposed and raw beneath the devastating gaze of the goddess.

Then the pain ends.

Ash, curled up on the barren ground, slowly opens his eyes, expecting to see himself black and charred beyond any hope of life. Instead, his fingers are clean and supple. His arms lean, dark and strong. He stands and sees himself transformed, built of fast, lethal muscle and hard, merciless edges and angles. Not the smooth curves and softness of flesh, but the keenness of a blade.

Ash bows and claps his hands together. He performs the greeting ritual of Kalari-payit. He sweeps his limbs in long, low blows and high kicks, and ends bowed before the goddess.

Kali’s chest heaves with eagerness as she curls her long talons into a fist.

She shows Ash how to punch.

Kali raises her foot.

She shows Ash how to kick.

Her limbs dart, and blows and strikes come fast and furious until Kali is a hurricane of movement. Each action is of ethereal grace and beauty, fluid and elegant, like a tidal wave rolling over a mountain.

Ash follows. In her footsteps. In her shadow.

He mimics her movements, her attacks, her ferocity. Ash feels another pair of arms tear from his body. Another. Glistening with his blood, new limbs rip out of his torso, the flesh peeling away to reveal glossy, bloody bones. He stares at his hands, now claws, and runs his long tongue over his fangs. He dances in his own ashes.

He is now fully a thing of Kali.