The Place of Dead Kings (53 page)

‘We have to get out of here,’ she said, her voice rasping. ‘The whole place will collapse.’

Jack agreed but there were two things he still had to do. ‘You go. I’ll send some of the Mar with you.’

Sonali frowned. ‘We all have to go.’

‘My friends are still in the dungeon.’

‘I’ll help you get them.’

‘You’re in no fit state to do that.’ This was true, but also, after freeing Saleem, he meant to get into Mahajan’s workshop and destroy the Brahmastra. He didn’t want Sonali following him into the catacombs while the castle was falling apart.

The ground heaved, as if a wave had passed beneath it. Steam shrieked from numerous pipes as they split open.

Sonali clung to the wall and looked as though she would faint for a moment. Finally, she nodded weakly. ‘All right.’

‘Good.’ Jack patted her on the arm. ‘You’re free now.’ He turned to Cormac. ‘Tell three warriors to go with the shee woman. They must go to the back of the castle and get down the ladders. They have to tell Domnall and the others to move right away from the castle.’

Cormac nodded and barked this command to the warriors. Then three of the Mar assisted Sonali as she limped away along the dividing wall.

The ground surged and rumbled. Jack grasped the parapet, as if he were on a boat in a stormy sea. On the other side of the inner bailey a building cracked, tumbled down and puffed out a wide skirt of dust.

‘You and the others come with me,’ he said to Cormac. ‘There’s one last thing I need your help with.’

Jack ran along the edge of the inner bailey, Cormac at his side and the two remaining Mar warriors bounding behind. The tower that housed the dungeon loomed ahead. Thank God it was still standing, but how many Cattans were in there?

He spotted two dead guards – who appeared to have been killed by falling masonry – and stopped to grab a musket lying beside one of them. The earth grumbled and tilted. Above him, an iron prong creaked and plunged towards the bailey. He dashed out of the way as the contorted metal smashed across the ground.

He stumbled on to the tower. With Cormac and the others behind him, he kicked open the door and found the room beyond deserted. He clicked out the musket’s knife and headed for the staircase. The building shuddered and the ground rolled wildly. Cracks forked across the ceiling and chunks of stone fell. He staggered to the top of the steps and looked down. The stairwell was pitch black and dust floated up from below.

Cormac and the others skidded over to him and stared down into the depths. Jack noted the looks of concern on their faces.

‘I’ll go down,’ he said. ‘You wait here.’

‘No,’ Cormac said. ‘We come.’

Jack nodded, slung the musket over his shoulder and grasped a torch from a sconce. He held the dancing flames ahead of him as he plunged into the dust-filled gloom. His chest throbbed and he felt light-headed. He had to keep blinking and shaking his head to stop himself passing out.

How much longer did he have to live?

The floor lurched and groaned. Cracks fanned across the wall and dust showered him. The torch sputtered and almost went out for a moment. He coughed as the grit clogged his lungs, but he pressed on regardless.

From deep in the earth came the continuous roar of rocks grinding together.

Would the building stay standing long enough for him to find Saleem? He whispered a Hail Mary. Please let him save the boy.

He jumped and recoiled when he almost stood on a hand. A dead Cattan, partially buried by fallen masonry, lay on the stairs. Jack edged past, clattered on down the steps and finally reached the dungeon.

The room was in complete darkness. He swept the torch about him and saw another dead Cattan, scattered stones and a broken chair. He paced further into the chamber, the torch spitting and hissing as he swished it.

And then he stopped.

The ceiling above the far end of the room had caved in completely. There was nothing but a wall of rubble and rock where Saleem’s cell had been.

No.

Cormac ran up behind him. ‘Where friend?’

Jack pointed at the rubble. ‘They were over there.’

‘Ah.’ Cormac stood up straighter and shifted his grip on his sword.

‘We have to find them.’ Jack waved the torch in front of him. ‘Saleem!’

Silence.

‘Saleem!’ he shouted again.

The ground shifted beneath his feet and he had to hold out his arms to steady himself. A piece of stone slapped the ground nearby and shattered. Dust puffed in his face. One of the Mar slipped over and fell on his backside.

‘We go.’ Cormac grasped Jack’s shoulder. ‘Dangerous.’

‘I can’t leave them,’ Jack shouted. ‘You lot go.’

He ignored Cormac’s further entreaties, charged across the room and swung the torch about, searching for a way through the rubble.

Cormac ran across and grasped his tunic. ‘We go!’

A wave passed through the ground, lifting Jack up at least a foot, and then dashing him down again. The paving stones squealed as they cracked and splintered. Jack lost his footing and grasped at the rubble to keep himself upright.

‘I’m not going!’ Jack shouted back at Cormac. ‘You go. Now!’

Then he heard a cry from within the fallen stones. It was faint, and only just audible over the background roaring in earth. But it was someone’s voice, without a doubt.

‘Saleem!’ Jack shouted.

Faintly, he heard the voice calling back, saying one word repeatedly: ‘Jack.’

Christ. Saleem. Had to be.

He thrust the torch above his head and in the sputtering glow saw there was a small gap at the top of the mound. He jammed the torch between two slabs so that it jutted out and provided light. Then he clambered up, grasped some stones and wrenched them free. Cormac put away his sword and climbed up beside Jack. They both scraped away rubble until there was enough space to crawl through.

The ground bucked again and some of the stones shifted. A huge slab smacked on to the ground.

Cormac frowned at Jack. ‘Dangerous.’

But Jack grabbed the torch and handed it to Cormac. ‘Hold that up.’

In the light cast by the flames, he dragged himself up the pile of stones, scrambled over the top and found himself in a circular area, about ten feet across, where the ceiling had held. The broken stonework enclosed this space on all sides, but this one spot was mostly clear. He could see little in the dim light at first, but then Cormac climbed up to the gap and pushed the torch through. A yellow glow flooded the small area.

And there, crouching in a corner, clothes torn and face covered in dirt, was Saleem.

The lad’s haunted face suddenly split into a smile. ‘Jack.’

Jack rushed across, grasped Saleem and hugged him. A Hail Mary tumbled through his head. Thank God the lad was alive. He never would have forgiven himself if Saleem had died.

Blinking away a tear, Jack stood back. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘Not really. But I’m stuck.’ Saleem tugged at a chain secured about his ankle. The end of the chain disappeared under the rubble.

Jack nodded. ‘Where are Parihar and the others?’

Saleem’s smile evaporated. He pointed behind Jack and his voice was croaky as he said, ‘There.’

Jack spun round and saw Parihar and the two Saxons lying half protruding from the stonework. Cormac was squeezing over the top of the rubble, dislodging dust and small stones. He held the torch in one hand, and in the trembling light Jack saw that the faces of the three bodies were as still and grey as the stone that partially covered them.

He ran across and crouched beside Parihar. The Lieutenant’s features were twisted and his mouth hung open as if he were about to cry out. His legs and abdomen were crushed beneath the stone. Even before Jack checked for a pulse, he knew Parihar was dead. The two Saxons had also been killed – the side of one man’s head had been smashed by a rock, while the other was so buried beneath the rubble only his arm and part of his face were visible.

Cormac scrambled down beside Jack, looked solemnly at the corpses and crossed himself.

Jack stood up. ‘Let’s get Saleem free.’

They crossed over to the lad, who was pulling futilely at the chain. Cormac gently pushed Saleem aside, grabbed a chunk of masonry, swung it above his head and slammed it down on the chain. The metal rang and the paving stones on the floor gave a hollow crack, but the chain remained unbroken. Jack grasped a smaller rock and followed suit. He and Cormac bashed over and over again at the chain, but it still held firm.

‘Hold on,’ Jack said.

He stepped back a few paces, grasped the musket and fired at the chain. The metal splintered and Saleem sprang free, a grin on his face.

Then a growl trembled in the earth, the ground swayed and rubble rolled down the slopes. Dust swamped the enclosed space.

‘Go.’ Jack waved towards the gap at the top of the stones. ‘Quickly.’

Saleem went first, Cormac helping him up from behind. Jack motioned for Cormac to follow, but the tall Scot shook his head, grabbed Jack’s arm and pushed him up the slope. Jack scrambled over the top and dropped down to the other side where Saleem and the two warriors were waiting. Cormac followed, dust covering every inch of him and even collecting in his beard.

‘Out!’ Jack shouted. ‘Now.’

They all charged to the stairwell. The ground rocked three times as they made their way up. Saleem slipped but Jack caught him and hurried him on.

Then they were at the top of the steps and rushing across the foyer, out of the door and into the bailey. The ground seethed. The perimeter walls had already cracked in many places and chunks of stone tumbled down. A piece of the battlements thumped into the earth near Jack. The metal spikes surrounding the bailey had either fallen or been crushed.

The only Cattans Jack could see were lying dead on the ground.

Cormac stared about him, eyes wide and shining. He pointed to the steps up to the battlements. ‘We go.’

‘You lot go,’ Jack said. ‘I’ve got one last thing to do.’

Cormac frowned. ‘We come with you.’

Jack shook his head. He didn’t want anyone following him into the bowels of the castle – it was too risky. He, on the other hand, would be dead soon anyway. ‘No. Just me. The rest of you get out.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Saleem shouted.

Jack felt light-headed and pain swamped him. He staggered and would have fallen if Cormac hadn’t rushed to his side and supported him. His vision swam. The moving ground, shifting walls, glowing ash and whirling steam all made him faint. He felt as though he were in a fever dream.

He swallowed, pulled away from Cormac and managed to stand upright. ‘Listen.’ His voice was faint and hoarse. ‘There’s something I have to do and only I can do it. I might not make it. You lot must go now while you can.’

Cormac spoke quickly to the other Mar, then turned back to Jack. ‘Warriors will go. I come.’

Christ. Jack didn’t have time for this. ‘No. You have to get out. Get a message to Rao and tell him I’ve gone to do what we agreed.’

Cormac’s frown darkened. ‘Agreed?’

‘Yes.’ Jack struggled for breath. Just talking was draining his strength. ‘It’s an important message. You must go now and tell him. In case I don’t make it.’

Cormac bowed his head slightly. ‘Will do as you ask. Will take message to Great Shee.’

‘But I won’t,’ Saleem said. ‘I’m coming with you, wherever you’re going.’

Jack stumbled a little, then regained his balance. Saleem’s face whirled before him. Everything seemed strangely dark, as if he were looking through green-stained glass. ‘No. Go.’

Saleem shook his head. ‘I ran away in Wiltshire. I won’t do that now.’

Jack blinked and fought to stay conscious. He knew how determined Saleem could be. The lad would probably follow him no matter what he said.

Jack nodded and said in a cracked voice, ‘All right. If you must.’

S
team shrieked from burst valves. Jack and Saleem clambered through the jungle of broken pipes criss-crossing the passage. The ground listed and tossed the two of them against the warm tubes. The earth grumbled constantly, the vibration passing through every piece of metal and stone.