The Place of Dead Kings (27 page)

He’d fallen asleep. While on watch. One of the worst things a soldier could do.

Christ. He couldn’t believe it, but the pain had been bad during the night. He must have been momentarily knocked unconscious and then drifted off. At least he felt fully recovered now.

He scrambled up. What time was it?

The air was cold and the rheum in his eyes felt frozen. His breath misted about his mouth and coiled up towards the roof of the shelter.

Outside, the world had been painted white. A thick layer of snow swept across the ground and collected in the branches of the trees. Pale cloud smothered the sky and a few flakes still twirled to the ground.

Where was Rao? The Captain’s side of the bivouac was empty, although his satchel still leant against the rock.

Jack stuck his head out of the shelter and immediately saw the Captain crouching nearby, his turban and coat speckled by flakes.

Rao grinned. ‘Ah, you’re up.’ He dug his hand into the snow and raised a clump. ‘Amazing.’

‘Never seen it before?’

‘Not this thick.’ Rao shook the snow from his hands.

Jack looked up at the sky. The faint smear of the sun was only just peering over the hills.

Rao clicked open his pocket watch. ‘Eight o’clock.’

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. At least it wasn’t too late. Hopefully the savages wouldn’t have—

He sat still for a second, then lurched out of the shelter and gazed into the distance. The floor of the valley was a sea of pure white with no distinguishing features. There was no sign of the camp, no sign of anyone at all.

The savages had gone.

No.

Jack struck off down the slope, wading through snow that came up to his knees in places.

‘Where’re you going?’ Rao said. ‘Wait.’

But Jack didn’t wait. He had to get down into the valley and make sure he could pick up the savages’ trail.

He floundered through a thick drift, brushed against a branch that dusted his head with flakes and slipped over completely at one point. He heard Rao huffing and puffing as he followed.

He reached the bottom of the hill and charged out of the cover of the trees. The wide, white valley reeled about him and the wind sent snowflakes swirling and dancing. He was panting by the time he reached the place where he estimated the camp had been. The snow was as unblemished as fresh cream. Not even an animal had crossed it.

Damn. The savages must have set off either before or during the snowfall. Their tracks were completely covered and impossible to follow.

He turned in a full circle, scanning the countryside in all directions. The snow had rubbed out any distinctive features. The white ground blended with the white sky, so that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

There was no sign of the savages anywhere.

Rao arrived, gasping for breath.

‘You have the spyglass?’ Jack asked.

Rao drew the glass from his coat and Jack gazed through it, searching the featureless landscape. Apart from a hawk sailing far above, there was no sign of life anywhere.

Damn.

He kicked a knot of snow and sent flakes flying.

Damn. Damn.

‘What is it?’ Rao asked.

‘We’ve lost them,’ Jack said. ‘We’ve bloody lost them.’

A
trickle of pain worked its way across Jack’s chest. He took a deep breath of icy air. He was going to have to use the Europa yantra. And that meant revealing to Rao he was a siddha.

He cupped his hands, blew into them and rubbed them together. ‘Look, Rao . . . sir. There’s something I haven’t mentioned yet. I was in the European Army. A long time ago.’

Rao’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Really? I didn’t . . . Why didn’t you mention it?’

‘There was no reason to.’

Rao rolled his tongue in his mouth. ‘Fair enough. What regiment?’

‘The 2nd Native English Infantry.’

‘Hold on.’ Rao’s eyes narrowed. ‘I heard they mutinied three years ago.’

‘That was long after I left,’ Jack said quickly. ‘I quit nine years before that.’

Rao frowned. ‘All right. If you say so. Why are you telling me this now?’

‘Because I’m going to have to use a power to find the trail.’ Jack took another deep breath. ‘A siddha power.’

Rao took a step back. ‘You’re a siddha?’

‘Sort of. I’m a native siddha. I have an innate power. I learnt how to use it in the army.’

Rao rubbed his moustache. ‘I see. I’ve heard of it. But it’s very rare.’

‘Not as rare as you might think in Britain. We grow up with strong sattva here. It’s something to do with that.’

Rao stared hard at Jack. ‘Who are you? Really?’

‘I am who I say I am. I’m just a veteran who has a special ability.’

‘Then why aren’t you still in the army?’

‘I just . . . I had to leave.’

‘That’s it? You just had to leave.’

‘Look, we’re wasting time. We have to—’

‘This is all very strange. We’re attacked by Mahajan’s savages, but somehow you survive. You convince me to come with you. Now we’re alone in the wilderness, and you tell me you’re a siddha. That is very strange.’

Jack sighed. ‘Perhaps. But there’s nothing more to it—’

Rao drew his pistol and pointed it at Jack. His eyes were shining and the snow whirled about his head. ‘Why did you leave the army? I demand to know.’

Christ. Rao was an idiot.

Jack tightened his jaw. He shouldn’t have brought the Captain along – he was more trouble than he was worth.

‘Put that away,’ Jack said.

‘Not until I get some answers.’

‘What are you going to do? Shoot me? How will you find Parihar then?’

Rao’s hand shook as he held the pistol.

Surely the fool wouldn’t fire. Jack had run down the hill so quickly he’d left the knife, scimitar and pistol behind in the bivouac. He had nothing to fight with, other than his fists. Rao had taken a few steps back and was now about ten feet away. He could shoot before Jack had a chance to cross that space.

A rotary pistol was hardly a powerful firearm, but at short range it was deadly.

‘All right, I’ll tell you why I left,’ Jack said. ‘I was hit by a sattva-fire ball.’ He tapped his chest. ‘Got me here. It burns all the time. I wasn’t well enough to stay on.’ This was close enough to the truth, without going into detail.

‘I see.’ Rao tightened his grip on the pistol. ‘Where’s your proof?’

Jack took off his tunic, undid his doublet and pulled down his undershirt enough to expose the livid red scar on his chest.

Rao stepped a few paces closer and peered at the wound. ‘Oh. That does look serious.’

Jack pulled on his tunic again. ‘Satisfied now?’

‘Why didn’t you just tell me all this?’

‘It’s my private business.’

Rao paused to consider this. ‘It’s still all very strange.’

‘Look, if I was going to harm you I would’ve done it by now, wouldn’t I?’

‘That is true.’

‘Put the pistol down, for God’s sake. We have to get moving. The savages will be far ahead of us now.’

Rao nodded slowly. ‘I suppose you’re right.’ He lowered the pistol. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong so far.’ He put the pistol in his holster.

Jack immediately leapt forward, tackled Rao and knocked him backwards. Rao cried out and fell into the snow, Jack landing on top of him.

Jack smashed his fist into Rao’s face. Rao scrabbled at the holster. He got the pistol out, but Jack knocked it out of his hand and it went flying into the snow.

Rao wailed, his eyes wide. Blood trickled from his nose. ‘Don’t kill me!’

Jack grabbed Rao’s tunic at the collar. ‘I’m not going to kill you. But I will if you point a pistol at me again.’

Rao’s eyes widened further. He swallowed and nodded.

Jack let go of the Captain, retrieved the pistol and stuck it in his belt. He marched back towards the bivouac.

Snowflakes swished in front of his face.

It had felt good hitting Rao. The idiot deserved it. Jack didn’t care any more what happened to the Captain. He was going to get his things and then he was going after Saleem. Alone.

Rajthanans. Why had he ever served them? Ever followed their orders?

He must have been mad.

He skidded and lurched uphill through the snow and reached the boulder. He crawled into the shelter and grasped the knapsack.

Then Rao’s satchel caught his eye.

Atri’s old satchel.

He lifted the bag’s flap, peered inside and found a notebook and a few large sheets of folded paper. He crackled open one of the sheets and saw wriggling lines, symbols and marks that looked like writing. He couldn’t understand any of it. He then flicked through the notebook and saw scratches of tiny writing and what appeared to be diagrams. He recognised the script as the secret language of the siddhas, even though he couldn’t read it.

Damn. None of this helped him. He still had no idea what Atri had been doing. Or what Atri had known about Mahajan or the Brahmastra, whatever that was.

And the only person who could help him with any of this at the moment was Rao.

He heard the crunch of footsteps in the snow behind him. He shoved the notebook back in the satchel, grabbed Rao’s pistol and the scimitar, and turned round.

The Captain stood about twenty feet away with his arms apart and palms open. His nose had stopped bleeding and he’d wiped his face clean. ‘I’m sorry.’

Jack stood, pistol in one hand and scimitar in the other.

Rao’s eyes were moist. ‘You’re right. I was asking a lot of questions that were none of my business. There’s no reason for me not to trust you. All you’ve done so far is try to get our colleagues back.’

Jack hadn’t expected Rao to be so contrite. He jabbed the scimitar into the snow, where it stood like a roadside shrine. ‘Glad you’ve seen sense.’

Rao rubbed his nose and winced as his fingers pressed a sensitive spot. ‘I hope we can put this behind us.’

‘Do you now?’

‘What more do you want? I’ve apologised.’

‘You can also apologise for killing my friend, Andrew.’

Rao frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘My friend died when that bloody statue of yours fell on him.’

‘Oh. Yes, I remember, a man was killed. A wagon broke.’

‘That man was my comrade.’

‘I’m sorry, but it’s hardly my fault. It was an accident.’

‘An accident that wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t been carting that thing halfway across the wilderness.’

Rao’s cheeks flushed. ‘Now see here. I’ve apologised to you and all you can do is insult me. The murti was necessary. We had to have the blessing of Ganesh.’

‘Didn’t help us much, did it?’

‘How dare you insult the god.’

‘I’ll insult him all I want. You were a fool taking that statue. And all that furniture. You can’t travel in the wilds like that.’

Rao pursed his lips and his dishevelled moustache stretched. He puffed his chest out for a moment, but then exhaled again. His shoulders sagged. ‘You could be right.’

‘I know I’m right.’

Rao’s eyes went glassy. ‘This was my first command, you see.’

‘Thought as much.’

‘In Rajthana I was told . . . well, what does it matter now?’ Rao sighed, sat on a rock and rubbed his forehead. ‘I’ve made a mess of things.’

Again, Jack was surprised at Rao’s reaction. The Captain was prepared to take some criticism from a native. There weren’t many Rajthanans like that.

‘Shiva, what am I doing?’ Rao put his face in his hands.

Jack almost felt sorry for Rao for a moment. But only for a moment.

What now? Was he going to let Rao come along with him? Was the Captain going to be more of a help than a hindrance? Two men were better than one in a fight. And Rao might be able to explain the writings in Atri’s notebook.

Jack made a quick decision. ‘That’s enough. You need to buck yourself up now. We have to keep going.’ He strode over and offered Rao his pistol back.

‘Oh.’ Rao raised his eyebrows. ‘Thank you.’

‘You need something to defend yourself with,’ Jack mumbled. ‘Now get up. We need to get our things and go.’

‘You might have to clean out that pistol.’ Jack sat on a rock near the bivouac, preparing to clean his own firearm.