Tiger Thief (18 page)

A
s the dungeon doors clanged shut, Aya sat heavily back on the bench. Her heart was beating so loudly she thought it would deafen her, but her eyes were dry. She waited until she was sure that Mohini wasn’t coming back, then, slowly, she opened her right fist. The dungeon keys glinted back at her.

“I may be just a sewer-girl, but I know all about picking pockets,” she muttered in bitter triumph.

Just then she heard the grinding of metal, and with a start she looked up to see the iron maiden’s mad eyes staring down at her. With a gasp she closed her hand, but the iron maiden wasn’t interested in the key.

“Food … food … fat … fresh … feast … feed me…” she groaned, eyeing the loaf on Mohini’s platter.

Aya’s heart skipped a beat, but she felt a shudder of relief. “Yes … yes…” she breathed. “Wait!”

With shaking hands she tried the shackles around her ankles. After a few false starts, the heavy metal clicked open and landed with a clank on the floor. Kicking away the chains, she picked up the loaf and approached the iron maiden with trepidation. In horror she realised that the creature’s eyes were
real
.

“Here!” she said, shoving the bread forward. Immediately, a metal claw reached out to snatch the food and the monster began to devour it, drool running down her rust-stained chin.

Aya cast her eyes around the dungeon. There was no time to waste. She
had
to get to the fight.

She ran over to the Mazaria first. Its hands were bunched in two fists and the remains of the wooden drum lay shattered on the floor. Gently, she gathered up the pieces and put them in her bag. Then she looked around for something to use as a disguise and her eyes lighted on the remains of the ghuls; two mounds of crumpled, white fabric.

Nervously, she stuck out her foot to nudge one of the mounds, but to her relief there was nothing there; the ghuls really were gone. With a quick prayer of thanks, she picked up one of the robes and put it on, using the other as a hood to cover her head. Underneath the robes she uncovered two little piles of what looked like seeds. Hardly knowing why, she scooped them into her bag. Then, with a final glance at the iron maiden, she slipped
out of the dungeon, following the way she’d come.

As she hurried along the dark corridors, she was joined by a silent throng of ghuls. Grateful for the cover, she merged with them as they crossed one of the narrow bridges that led over the fiery lake back to the dark island, where the scene had been set for the fight.

The bonfire had been cleared to make way for a ring. Around it, ghuls of all shapes and sizes were being ushered into place by hordes of grinning demons. Aya dropped her head, terrified that the little fiends would recognise her, but luckily they were too busy chattering to each other to pay attention. Keeping her head down, she pushed into the crowd. Only then did she dare look up.

Around her, the ghuls were completely silent and very still, their eyes glinting dully beneath their hoods. Along with the ghuls, Aya caught sight of several children in the crowd. For a moment she thought she recognised a little girl with a golden eye, but the child hurried past with swift, robotic movements.

Craning to catch a glimpse of the ring, Aya saw an area of raised seating with two thrones taking pride of place. Next to that was an ornate golden cage. Inside the cage Emira paced backwards and forwards, a look of fury on her noble face. The cage was crowned with the statue of a golden bird, but Aya didn’t have time to take in details. She had to find Sharat.

She didn’t have long to wait. Just then, the most awful screeching sound pierced the air and a procession began
to cross one of the spindly bridges. Doctor Rookh led the way, his dark robes sweeping the floor, while Mohini walked behind him, resplendent in emerald silk. Behind Rookh and Mohini was a group of Rookh’s generals and political advisors, and following them was a gaggle of women done up in gaudy gowns and ostentatious jewels, their faces painted and their bosoms heaving as they jostled for position.

Once they had all taken their places, Doctor Rookh raised his staff.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he announced. “This is the moment we have all been waiting for: the triumph of man over nature, of machinery over magic and logic over legend. Soon my power over this city will be complete and the supremacy of the human race will be assured!”

A mixture of cheers and moans filled the cavern. Rookh made a grand gesture.

“Bring in the boy!” he ordered.

Sharat was led into the ring.

His black leggings made him look painfully small and thin. A mask hid his eyes, and a golden medallion gleamed in the centre of his bare chest. He looked neither right nor left but walked straight up to Doctor Rookh.

“Take the sword,” Rookh commanded.

For the first time, Aya noticed a table in front of the cage. On it lay the Sword of Shiva. With a sure move, Sharat reached out to grasp the weapon, and lifted it up to cross his chest.

Rookh looked down at the boy standing in front of
him, and smiled triumphantly.

“Present yourself!” he snapped.

Obediently, Sharat turned around and bowed to the north, south, east and west. The ghuls watched silently, their eyes dull, while the humans cheered and the demons shrieked and chattered in delight.

Finally, at Doctor Rookh’s command, two of his servants opened the tiger’s cage and Emira, released after so many days of captivity, bared her teeth in a terrible roar and threw herself into the ring.

Sharat didn’t flinch. Watching the tiger with an air of confidence he began to circle the ring, and then, to Aya’s horror, he raised the sword and made ready to fight.

S
harat had never felt happier as he strode into the ring. The golden disc above his heart had taken away all of his cares. He knew exactly who he was and what he had to do. It was all so easy.

He stepped towards the table in front of Doctor Rookh and picked up the sword. A surge of pleasure filled him as he touched the metal. He felt so grateful to his master, for allowing him to feel this great power and joy. At last he could be all he had ever wanted to be, and more. He understood everything now. Of
course
he was the Prince of Jinnis. And now, with Rookh’s help, he would soon take the place of the Emperor and be a worthy ruler, both of the underworld, and of the human empire that waited on the surface.

Lifting the sword, he saluted. Then, at last, Emira was released and they began circling the ring.

As Sharat prepared to fight, he couldn’t help admiring the beauty of the tiger that prowled opposite him.

She was a rare and spectacular beast, and he knew he had performed with her many times before, but today would be different. Today he was going to kill her. No emotions remained to spoil the fight he was about to undertake, only ruthless determination. He swung the sword to test its weight. It seemed as eager as he was, almost humming in his hand.

Emira reared up, looking as though she would spring out of the ring towards Doctor Rookh, but Sharat was ready. He threw himself in front of her, and the sword sliced through the air. If Emira hadn’t moved, he would have cut off her head, but Emira was fast after her years of circus training. Sharat wouldn’t have expected any less. She dodged out of the way, and the sword just nicked her ear.

“Ow!” Suddenly Sharat forgot he was the Prince of Jinnis. For a moment he was just a boy again. He reached up and touched his head. It was wet with blood.

“How did that happen?” he muttered to himself, confused. Then he heard Rookh’s voice in his head.

“Fight!”

He sprang to attention. Emira was angry now. She had turned around and was coming for him. Again he lifted his sword. It was time for him to prove himself a worthy heir to Master Rookh.

Emira felt strong and fierce. She knew she should be happy. She had been let out of her cruel prison. Now, here she was again with her boy, surrounded by an audience. Even so, things weren’t back to normal. There was something wrong with Sharat. His movements were stiff, he was dressed all wrong, and where was his ring of fire? She growled and looked around. The audience wasn’t behaving properly either. Why were all of them so white? And why did they just sit there staring? Emira circled the ring, roaring at the top of her voice to try and wake them up, but they hardly moved at all. It was as if they were half dead.

Then she saw the man in black and her fur bristled in recognition. She would have leapt out of the ring to attack him there and then, but suddenly Sharat was in front of her, a rod of metal in his hand.

Emira could hardly believe her eyes. Sharat was getting in between her and the enemy! Had he not seen the tiny cage she’d been locked up in for so long?

Just then the metal rod sliced through the air towards Emira’s face. She dodged to avoid it, but not fast enough – the tip nicked her ear. Hissing in pain she sprang back. Why was her boy trying to hit her? That wasn’t how they played the game!

A drop of blood landed in Emira’s eye and, as the world around her turned red, her confusion turned to fury.

For years Emira had done what she was told, staying
obediently in her cage, performing night after night for nothing more but a leg of mutton and the occasional pleasure of the hunt. She had done this all for the love of her precious little brother, her boy, Sharat. It had always been the two of them against the world. Now he was taking sides against her with the man she hated the most.

Emira spun to face the ring. She watched the boy there. It looked like Sharat, and smelled like him too, but she knew that the real Sharat would never hurt her. This wasn’t the Sharat that she had known and loved. This was some kind of a demon. That meant the rules had changed.

Emira roared. The demon wanted to fight, did he? She would show him a fight!

Aya felt sick. She had longed to see Sharat and Emira in the ring, but not like this.

All around her, the ghuls sat watching silently from beneath their ghostly cowls. They didn’t react to the drama that was unfolding before them. The only creatures that were enjoying themselves were the demons. Scores of them were jeering and cheering at every move.

Aya glanced over at Doctor Rookh and Mohini.

Mohini was half raised off her throne, her eyes hungry, while Rookh leaned forward in concentration, his staff twitching at every blow.

Suddenly Aya saw things clearly. Sharat wasn’t fighting of his own accord. Doctor Rookh was
controlling
him somehow. There was no time to waste. She had to get to him before he killed Emira. Gathering up her courage,
she started pushing through the ghuls, desperately trying to reach the ring.

Sharat was enjoying himself. It was almost like being back at the circus, only this time the fighting was for real! Feeling a surge of excitement, he watched Emira’s eyes blaze with fury as she charged towards him. With a flash of gleaming metal his sword sliced through the air, but the tiger was too quick for him, rolling away with a snarl of anger as she whipped out a paw to knock his legs from under his body.

Sharat jumped and Emira missed. Then they both paused for a moment. There was no sign of the friendship they had shared, only the desire to fight and win.

Sharat was just catching his breath when suddenly a sound cut through his concentration. He glanced up to see one of the ghuls waving at him from the audience. Then, as he watched, it pulled off its hood. All of a sudden he realised it was Aya.

Confused, he forgot what he was doing and paused to look. Aya was shouting something. A word, what was it? A name? Sure that it must be important, he strained his ears to catch what she was saying, but just then Emira made her move, leaping towards him with a terrible roar.

In a flash Rookh was on his feet.

“Now!” he cried, thrusting his staff sharply forward.

His body twisting, Sharat’s blade shot out and Emira landed on its point.

Without emotion, Sharat watched as the sword in his
hand pierced Emira’s flesh. For an instant, time seemed to stand still as she hung suspended above him, the silver metal buried up to the hilt in her chest. He braced himself, expecting to be crushed. But Emira didn’t fall. Instead, there was an almighty crack, as a bolt of lightning shot out of the sword and hit the ground, lighting up the glassy surface of the ring with an eerie glow.

All at once, the light began to spin, opening up a swirling vortex beneath Sharat’s feet.

Emira roared, and time resumed its course. Leaping past Sharat uninjured, she dived straight through the centre of the vortex and disappeared.

As he stared up at the empty space where the tiger had been, Sharat felt a sense of déjà vu. But before he could wonder where she had gone, he felt a sharp pain in his heart and his body slowly crumpled as a fountain of blood erupted from his chest.

“Yes!”

A shriek of triumph rent the air as Mohini leapt down from her throne.

“No!” gasped Aya as Sharat fell bleeding to the ground.

In despair she collapsed on to the bench behind her. It was no use. It hadn’t worked!

Clutching the broken Mazaria to her chest, she knew why. It was no good just
saying
a magic word. You had to sing it. Numbly, she watched as Mohini leapt into the ring, her face wild with jubilation.

Just then there was a raucous cry from the golden bird
that had been perched on top of Emira’s cage.

Detaching itself, it shot towards the enchantress, its feathers turning from gold to green as it raked its claws across her throat.

“Catch!” it cried, flying past Aya in a blur.

Staring up at the bird, Aya felt a jolt of recognition. But before she could wonder where she’d seen him before, she felt something small and heavy drop into her lap. Looking down, she saw the familiar shape of the golden bee.

All at once her heart leapt. “Alcherisma!” she exclaimed, seizing the amulet.

Moments later a speck of gold flew out of the stone and with a furious buzz the jinni appeared before her. Taking one look at the chaos around them, a look of panic crossed his face. “Are you
crazy
?” he hissed. “Why have you brought me
here
?”