The Place of Dead Kings (45 page)

He was only one storey above the walkway along the top of the wall. He could easily jump down. He stuck his head out further to check the distance and spied a single guard standing right beneath the window, leaning against the wall of the tower.

Damn.

He ducked back inside.

He was still trapped.

Perhaps there was something in the storeroom that could help. With the window shutter ajar, enough moonlight shone inside for him to see the shelves properly. Mostly, they were empty. A few spare blankets lay folded on one shelf, and a set of earthenware mugs lined another. Higher up he saw a stack of bows but no arrows. And then his eyes fell on something he recognised.

He stood up, stretched and took down an ammunition pouch – European Army issue. It must have been one of those taken from the dead Saxons. He lifted the lid and found about twenty musket cartridges inside. He reached up again, felt around and grasped a small satchel. When he opened it, he found a bag of pistol balls – the satchel must have belonged to an officer.

All these bullets would be useful – if he had a firearm.

He hunted around further, checking every inch of the shelves. But he found no pistol or musket or any other kind of weapon.

Damn.

He stuck the cartridges in the satchel with the pistol balls and then slung the bag over his shoulder. The bullets would come in handy if he ever got out of the storeroom. It was no easy feat to lay your hands on ammunition in Scotland.

He went back to the door. He heard a series of clicks, interspersed with cheers from the men. It only took him a second to realise they were playing a game of dice.

He sat on the floor and waited. Occasionally he got up and peered through the window, but the guard remained slouching against the wall below. Sometimes the man wandered along the walkway towards the stairs down to the bailey, but each time he returned to his position.

Jack considered jumping out and attacking him, but he wouldn’t be able to do that silently enough not to attract attention.

He was trapped, and so he waited.

His thoughts whirled. What would he do if anyone came into the storeroom? Should he give himself up straight away? Should he fight to the death?

And what was he going to do if he managed to get out of the storeroom without being seen? There was little point returning to the dungeon. Sonali had been right, there were too many guards there. He could try to kill a Cattan, take his skull tunic and pose as a guard himself. Perhaps he would be able to get his hands on the keys to Saleem’s cell. But even if he could do that and free Saleem and the others, they would all be caught immediately as they tried to flee.

What about Sonali? There was no easy way to free her either. But it would be hard to leave her to her fate.

The more he considered what action to take, the more his thoughts revolved around Mahajan. The siddha was the key to all the problems he faced. If he could deal with Mahajan, kill or perhaps capture him, then he could deal with everything else. But Sonali had said Mahajan was constantly shielded by his yogic power. Nothing could get through this defence – not even bullets.

His thoughts wandered, skipping through memories of Katelin and Elizabeth. He recalled happier times when they’d all lived together in Dorsetshire. But the experience was bittersweet. He would never see Elizabeth again, would never hold her in his arms, would never cradle his grandchild.

Then for some reason his mind drifted back to the last time he’d seen Jhala. It had been three years ago at the estate where Jack then worked. He and his guru had sat in the gazebo in the formal garden and Jhala had told him that Elizabeth had been arrested and was due to be executed. Then Jhala had offered him a deal. If Jack hunted down William, Jhala would spare Elizabeth.

The memory was seared in Jack’s mind. The world had been turned upside down at that point. Until then, Jack had trusted the Rajthanans, had served them since he was sixteen. He’d thought of Jhala as a friend. But on that day, everything fell apart.

The anger still smouldered within him when he recalled what had happened.

Jhala had forced him to choose between his daughter and his friend. And of course, he’d had to choose his daughter.

Jhala had later been killed by his own men, who’d mutinied against him. But if Jhala had lived, would Jack have hunted him down and killed him? Would he have slain his own guru?

Jhala deserved to die for what he’d done.

In his mind, Jack had killed him many times.

Jack stared into the darkness. How long had he been sitting in the storeroom? Two hours? More?

The Cattans were still playing dice, talking and laughing in the next room. He hoped Rao, Cormac and the others had left their hiding place on the hill by now and were heading back to the village. He prayed they were all safe.

He raised himself to the window to check on the guard. A grin slipped over his lips. The Cattan had finally left his post and there was no one else along the stretch of wall immediately below. Jack stuck his head out further and looked around. There were a few guards in the distance, but they were unlikely to notice him if he jumped out now.

Was there anyone else around who would see him? There might be someone down in the inner bailey, or looking out of a window. But he would have to risk it. He couldn’t stay where he was.

He crossed himself, drew out Katelin’s necklace and kissed it.

Then he opened the shutter fully and swung himself over the window sill so that he was sitting with his feet dangling outside. He scanned the surroundings. He still saw no one and heard no sign that anyone had spotted him.

He launched himself into the air, plummeted down, struck the walkway and rolled forward, his cloak sweeping around him. He shot straight back upright and stood looking out over the battlements as if he were a guard.

His heart beat wildly.

Had he been seen? Would someone raise the alarm?

Nothing happened.

He looked about surreptitiously. A few Cattans still paced the walls in the distance, but none had noticed him jump.

He whispered a Hail Mary, then marched along the walkway towards a set of stairs leading down into the bailey – he had to get out of sight before someone became suspicious. The black metal spikes jutted up beside him at various points, reaching to about twenty feet above the ramparts. Like much of the castle, the structures shifted uneasily between being solid and illusory.

To his left, beyond the wall, he caught a glimpse of the Cattan village at the base of the hill. There were no lights in the settlement and the huts were only suggestions of grey against the black ground.

He reached the steps. Now he was far enough along the wall to see down into the outer bailey. He spotted the dark bulge of the metal skull, the wooden platform where Mahajan had spoken and the muddy ground where the worshippers had stood. On the left side of the bailey, three mule carts had drawn up beside a small, single-storey building. A set of double doors at the front of the building had been swung open and a group of natives were shovelling something from the back of the carts through the doorway. A further two carts were trundling through the castle’s main gates, which were wide open.

What was going on?

Jack walked on past the stairs and continued to the wall that separated the inner and outer baileys. Now he could see that the natives weren’t Cattans – at least, they didn’t have the white skull on their tunics. And they were unloading what looked like coal from the carts into some kind of store.

Interesting. He’d been wondering where Mahajan’s supply of coal came from. There must be pits somewhere nearby.

The Cattans weren’t taking much notice of the labouring natives. A few guards wandered along the walls and two stood beside the gatehouse. But none of them were even looking at the workers.

And that gave Jack an idea – an escape plan.

But should he leave the castle now? He didn’t want to abandon Saleem, but he was certain he’d done as much as he could on his own. He needed help and would have to return with more men.

He just had to pray that Saleem survived until he came back.

He returned to the stairs, dashed down to the inner bailey and strode across to the passage he’d run along earlier that night. He crept down the empty hall and reached the doors to the outer bailey.

He paused with his fingers on the ringed handle. Once he stepped out, the Cattans on the wall would be able to see him. But they hadn’t appeared interested in what was going on in the bailey. With any luck, he would blend in with the men shovelling the coal.

He pulled his cloak up over his head and secured it more tightly about his neck. Then he swung one of the doors open, marched straight out and slipped over to the closest mule cart. The men had just finished unloading the coal and were throwing their spades into the back of the vehicle.

No one paid him any attention as the three front mule carts were circled around and taken back towards the gate. Jack trailed behind a group of about thirty men, none of whom looked back once. The party reached the gatehouse and ambled between the two guards slouching on either side. Jack’s heart beat harder as he walked past the Cattans. Would they notice he was an impostor? Would they stop him and question him?

But the guards paid him no attention at all and within minutes he was striding down the hill at the back of the group. He glanced over his shoulder once and saw the contorted castle, the black towers, the chimneys and the swirling silver ash.

This was only a temporary retreat. He was coming back to the castle. This wasn’t the end.

Dawn was peeling back a corner of the sky as Jack neared the top of the hill. The light pencilled in the trees along the summit. When he looked back, the castle glinted as the sun’s rays caught the metal. He’d been in the building far longer than he’d realised. But at least he’d made it out alive.

He trudged into the woods, searching for the place where he, Rao and the Mar had hidden the day before. He wasn’t expecting to see his comrades – he just wanted to find their tracks so that he could follow them back to the village.

He pushed aside bushes and brambles, and finally spotted the boulder they’d crouched behind when they first saw the worshippers. He forced his way through dry bracken, and then stopped suddenly.

The tip of a spear had shot out from behind a tree and now rested against his neck. He felt the cold metal on his skin.

‘Wait.’ Rao stepped out from the side of the boulder. A wide smile crossed his face. ‘It’s Jack.’

The spear lowered and Cormac appeared from behind the tree, his beard bristling as he grinned. The three Mar warriors paced out from where they’d been hiding.

Rao rushed forward, started a namaste then threw his arms about Jack, slapping him on the back. ‘We were certain you were dead or captured.’

Jack hugged Rao back awkwardly. He hadn’t expected a reaction like this. ‘I told you all to go back to the village.’

Rao stepped back and put his hands on his hips. ‘We wouldn’t abandon you. We were all agreed about that.’

Cormac nodded. ‘We come. Find you.’

‘You were going to try to get into the castle?’ Jack asked.

‘We had to,’ Rao said.

Jack shook his head, but found a smile creeping across his lips. ‘You would have been shot in minutes. You’re lucky I got back here in time to stop you.’