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Authors: Geoffrey Wilson

BOOK: The Place of Dead Kings
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Rao breathed in deeply. ‘I feel fantastic, to be honest.’

Jack poked at the fire with a stick and threw on a few branches. ‘Didn’t look so good last night.’

‘No.’ Rao squatted down beside the flames. ‘Look, I can remember bits of it. It seems I owe you my life.’

‘You weren’t that bad.’ Jack busied himself by throwing more sticks into the fire. Rao didn’t need to thank him. They were enemies who’d been thrown together. That was all.

And yet, Jack had to admit he was glad Rao had lived. It would have been hard to watch a man freeze to death.

‘I saw those wolves,’ Rao said. ‘I remember that.’

‘Do you?’

‘I would have been done for.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘And I want to say sorry.’

Jack looked up. ‘What for?’

Rao cleared his throat. ‘Your friend. Who died. Because of the murti.’

Jack paused. He appreciated these words from Rao. It seemed the Captain had been thinking about their argument yesterday. ‘Look, I might have . . . gone a bit far. It was an accident.’

‘An avoidable accident. I thought we needed the god’s blessing, you see. That’s how we do it in Rajthana.’

‘In case you hadn’t noticed, this isn’t Rajthana.’

‘Indeed. I have a lot to learn. And I will learn.’

‘You just get your strength back up. You’ll need it.’

Rao paused for a moment as they trudged up a scarp. ‘It’s quite something, isn’t it?’

‘Aye.’ Jack stopped and looked around.

The land appeared bewitched. The fresh snow blanketing the slopes glittered in the sunlight. Icicles hung from trees and rocks, while the distant mountaintops gleamed like enamel.

Rao took a deep breath. ‘Yes. Quite something.’

Jack started walking again. ‘Come on.’

Rao had been like a man transformed during the morning. He strode forward with boundless energy, often marching ahead of Jack. It was astonishing to think he’d almost died during the night.

A trace of pain crackled in Jack’s chest. It had started earlier when he’d meditated to pick up the trail again and continued even now that he’d left the trance. But it was more than just his chest. His breathing was shallower than usual and his legs felt leaden. Marching uphill through the snow sent perspiration beading on his forehead and trickling beneath his clothing.

There were only twelve days left before Kanvar’s cure wore off.

Just twelve days.

How far ahead of them were the savages now? Hours? Half a day? More?

And what would he and Rao do when they caught up anyway? There were still only two of them. And now they only had seven bullets between them. He’d had to fire several more rounds during the night to scare off the wolves, and now neither of them had a fully loaded pistol.

In part to stop himself brooding, Jack asked, ‘What do you know about Mahajan?’

‘Mahajan? Not a lot.’

‘But your commanders must have had some information.’

‘They didn’t know a lot either. No one does. Mahajan’s said to be a powerful siddha, but he’s worked on his own for years in different parts of the world. Some say he was expelled from the siddha order in Rajthana, but they’ve denied that. Others say he was asked to leave because of his dangerous experiments. Still others think it was internal politics.’ Rao gave a half-smile. ‘Who knows? The siddhas are secretive and follow their own rules.’

‘What kind of experiments was he doing?’

Rao shrugged. ‘No one told me. Atri was supposed to be the expert.’ Rao paused after mentioning the dead man. ‘That didn’t work out, obviously. Atri was going to deal with Mahajan. My assignment was just to get him there.’ Rao slid his coat open and tapped the moon-clan insignia on his tunic. ‘You see, I’m a military man. I don’t know about technical matters. That’s for the priest jatis.’

Jack eyed Atri’s satchel. Rao might not be technically minded, but he’d still kept the siddha’s notes. And he hadn’t mentioned the Brahmastra. He knew at least a little more than he was letting on.

‘So,’ Jack said, ‘what are we going to do if we come across Mahajan now?’

Rao rubbed his moustache. ‘I’ve been wondering that myself. Nothing, I suppose. We’ve no need to fear Mahajan, I don’t think. He’s a Rajthanan not a savage. He’ll treat us decently, I’m sure. We’ll have to find out what we can about him and then report back to Dun Fries. There’s nothing else we can do.’

‘You sure he’ll welcome us? He sent those savages to attack us.’

Rao chewed his lip. ‘We don’t know he sent them. Maybe these savages don’t follow his orders after all. Perhaps they acted on their own initiative.’

Jack went to speak, but stopped himself when something caught his eye. He frowned. Was that what he thought it was?

He pushed his way through the knee-deep snow to his right, holding out his arms to steady himself. Ahead of him, the slope folded down into a grove. As he drew closer, he became certain about what he’d seen.

‘What is it?’ Rao called.

‘Tracks,’ Jack said.

In front of him, hundreds of punctures in the snow showed where the savages had been.

Rao clambered across the slope. ‘How far ahead are they?’

‘Hard to say. You can’t easily tell how old tracks are in the snow.’ Jack squinted up at the sun. ‘What time do you make it?’

Rao clicked open his watch. ‘One o’clock.’

‘It stopped snowing just before dawn. I reckon they’ll have sheltered for the night in those trees over there. That means they left after sunrise. Around eight o’clock.’

‘So, they’re five hours ahead of us.’

‘At the most. As best I can tell.’

‘We can still catch up to them.’

‘Aye. That we can.’ Jack went to follow the trail, then halted and stared at the ground about ten feet away.

‘There.’ Jack’s voice was hoarse. He scrambled across the slope, kicking up white clouds behind him. He sank to his knees and studied the snow more closely.

It was just as he’d thought. Four sets of boot prints. One left by a short man, the others by taller men with longer strides.

No savages wore boots.

Rao struggled over to Jack. ‘What now?’

Jack pointed out the prints. ‘Our friends.’

‘You sure?’

‘Sure as I can be.’

‘So, they’re alive.’ Rao slapped his fist into his left hand and gazed up the slope, as if he would see the captives there.

‘They were alive this morning.’ Jack stood again and dusted the snow from his hands. ‘Maybe we’ll free them yet.’

17

W
ind blew down from the mountains, whipped up the snow and spun it into eddies. Flakes splattered Jack in the face and the cold seeped through his clothes and into his skin.

‘It’s coming down hard again.’ Rao shivered and hugged himself.

Jack looked up. Rao was right – swarms of snowflakes were tumbling once more from the clouds. He could still see the savages’ tracks ahead of him, but within a quarter of an hour they would be smothered.

Damn. When would the weather clear? He and Rao had had a good morning and made excellent progress, but now, with the snow setting in, they would have to find shelter again.

He glanced at Rao. He couldn’t risk a repeat of last night.

Rao must have understood his thoughts because he managed a tight smile and said, ‘I’m fine. Much better than yesterday.’

Rao looked well enough so far, but Jack wondered about himself. His leg muscles ached and his chest was tight. Shooting pains jabbed his torso, bad enough for him to have to shut his eyes and concentrate for a moment to blot them out.

They plodded on for half an hour, the wind building, the flying snow thickening and the late afternoon light starting to fade. Finally, Jack had to admit that the tracks had completely vanished. He would have to go into the trance again, but he knew that would weaken him further.

He was about to stop, when Rao pointed at a stand of trees to the left and said, ‘Wolf.’

Jack squinted, blinking flakes from his eyes. A grey-white shape flitted within the woods, followed by several others.

‘Those damn things just keep following us,’ Rao said.

‘They’re hungry.’ Jack drew his pistol. He was going to have to use a precious bullet. ‘I have to meditate again. I’ll scare them off first.’

He blasted once into the air and most of the wolves vanished instantly. A few remained, however, prowling up and down and watching with their yellow eyes.

Jack fired twice more, the wind kicking the acrid smoke straight back into his face. Finally, all the wolves slipped away. But now he had no bullets left.

All they had was Rao’s weapon.

He scanned the area for somewhere sheltered enough for him to meditate. A fir a few yards away looked suitable, but then he noticed black marks in the snow near to it.

Tracks?

He started off towards the tree, Rao following close behind. As he drew closer, he could see the indentations were human footprints, slowly being buried by snow, but still clear.

A shiver ran up his spine. He didn’t like the look of this.

Rao peered at the ground. ‘Savages?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good, then we’re still on their trail.’

‘No. Look, there’re only a few footprints. Must have been only two men.’

‘So, they separated from the main group?’

‘Looks that way. But there’s something else.’ Jack crouched and studied one of the marks more closely. ‘These tracks are fresh. Can’t be more than fifteen minutes old. Otherwise they’d be covered by now.’

‘Fifteen minutes?’ Rao’s moustache stiffened and he cast a wary look around him. ‘That means they could still be nearby.’

‘Exactly.’ Jack stood and gazed into the blizzard. He couldn’t see much beyond two hundred yards. Were there savages watching from the dark knots of trees? From the dim scarps? From the tops of bluffs?

‘We should keep going,’ Jack said.

‘What about the trail?’

‘They were heading up this valley.’ Jack pointed ahead. ‘The hills are steep, so I reckon they’d keep going straight. I say we press on. I’ll check the trail later.’

Rao nodded and they forced their way ahead through the rising snow. A wolf bayed in the distance and the temperature dropped. Jack shuddered and his legs almost gave way a couple of times. Rao was stumbling and skidding too.

Neither of them could keep going for long. But they had to get out of the valley and find somewhere to hide.

They entered a particularly powerful stream of sattva, so strong the scent scratched Jack’s nose and the back of his throat. They’d been passing through strong sattva for days, but the streams were becoming even more intense the further they travelled into the mountains.

Mahajan had chosen a good place for yoga, or whatever it was he was up to.

Within twenty minutes, they reached the head of the valley. The scarps to either side were sheer, rocky and virtually impassable. The only clear way ahead was up through a pass between two mountains.

‘Should you check the trail now?’ Rao shouted over the wind, his overcoat flapping about him.

‘Not yet. I want to get out of here.’ He pointed at the pass. ‘We’ll go up there first.’

They started up the slope, ploughing through the snow. The wind shrieked down and blasted them with gritty flakes that stung their faces.

Twice Rao fell, but both times he swung himself up again straight away.

‘You all right?’ Jack asked.

‘I can keep going.’

Halfway up, Jack began to think he’d made a mistake. Both he and Rao were tiring fast, and the sattva-fire clenched his chest. If there were savages around, they were hardly likely to attack in this weather – even they would have to find shelter.

All the same, now that he and Rao had come this far, it would be better to continue to the summit. At least from there they would be able to see more of their surroundings and with any luck spot somewhere to make camp.

They passed into another powerful stream. The whirling sattva made Jack dizzy. His foot slid out from under him and he toppled over, getting snow in his face. He twisted himself round and tried to get up, but his arms were too weak to support his weight. He slid down again and lay on his back in the knee-high snow.

Rao’s face appeared above him. The Captain held out his hand and Jack grasped it and let Rao heave him back on to his feet.

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