Land of Hope and Glory (30 page)

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

J
ack 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?’

Charles and Saleem pushed their way towards him through the sludge.

‘Don’t know,’ Charles said. ‘Can’t see anything.’

‘What happened?’

The match went out and Charles muttered and struck another. As the light flickered brighter, Charles glanced up the slope, which disappeared into the darkness. ‘There was some sort of creature. Don’t know what it was.’

‘Another demon.’ Saleem looked around as if the beast would pounce on them at any moment.

Jack stared up into the gloom and listened carefully. He heard nothing. Whatever the creature was, it seemed to have left them for the moment. He glanced at Saleem, whose face was glistening and pale.

Jack gestured to the lad. ‘Come over here.’

Saleem, forehead creased with worry, dragged himself up the mound of straw and squatted beside Jack.

Jack grabbed Saleem’s tunic at the neck, twisted the material and yanked him closer. ‘You bloody idiot. You could’ve got us all killed.’

Saleem yelped and tried to pull away.

‘I should have left you behind.’ Jack bunched his hand into a fist. He was going to hit the lad – he could feel it. The fool had put all his plans at risk, put Elizabeth at risk.

‘I didn’t mean it,’ Saleem wailed.

‘Hey, look what I’ve found.’ Charles proudly held a brass lantern aloft. Then the match went out and darkness enveloped them again.

Jack felt Saleem try to pull away, but he held the lad firm.

A few seconds later, Charles struck another match and the lantern glowed into life. Sallow light pushed back the darkness. All around them stood piles of refuse and detritus: mangled iron and steel, festering cabbages, sawdust, hay, coal. Rough earth walls rose steeply on all sides. And when Jack looked up he could see no light above, no glimpse of the sky. They appeared to be in a pit somewhere deep underground.

‘We have to get out of here,’ Charles said.

‘You’ll never get out,’ a man’s voice in the dark rasped and then groaned.

Jack let go of Saleem, who slipped back and clambered away. Jack grasped for the pistol, but found it was gone. It must have slipped out of his belt as he’d been dragged along. He saw that Charles had also lost the musket, although the ammunition satchel was still over his shoulder.

‘Who are you?’ Jack called out.

The man groaned again, but didn’t reply.

Jack struggled to his feet, pain cutting into his chest.

Charles raised the lantern and trudged through the filth in the direction of the voice. Soon the light revealed a Rajthanan cavalryman lying against one of the walls. His turban had come off and his short hair was stuck to his scalp with sweat and grease. He grimaced, as if in pain. Then Jack noticed that both of his legs had been severed at the thigh, leaving two stumps dark with blood. He appeared unarmed – not that he was in a fit state to use a weapon anyway.