Yama's Lieutenant and The Stone Witch Page 8

  Agni nodded in understanding. ‘I see it now! The world wars, race wars, battles fought for power, conquest, ascension, religion, the constant threat of nuclear war—all these have arisen from the destructive forces emanating from these stones and those who seek to use them for selfish purposes?’

  ‘Mostly, that is true, but not entirely, for power itself is neutral, and a lot depends on those who seek to wield it. But it is not for you to worry about the ratnas. Too many have been drawn by their allure and surrendered to the power with the intention of healing a damaged world, but have wounded up being the ones that did the worst damage. Your task has been made clear to you. It is now time for you to go forth and do your duty.’

  Mara softened when he saw the desolation on Agni’s face at war with his steely determination. ‘I have faith in the great heart and courage you bear, Agni Prakash. If anybody can see this quest to a successful conclusion, it is you. Do not be afraid to seek help, for it will prove invaluable, even though the journey you will undertake must be made by you alone.

  ‘In return for your acceptance of the responsibility that has been given to you, I, Mara, agrima of the kimkaras, will bestow upon you a gift that has been extracted at a great cost. Five times, and five times alone, will the power of the kimkaras come to your aid. Call on this only when you find yourself in the darkest of places without the faintest glimmer of hope. Carry my words in your heart and find a way, even if you cannot, for there is no other way . . .’

  A thick band looped itself around Agni’s left ring-finger, spiralling its way up the digit, taking five turns with the intimacy of a lover. The ring was made from the same strange metal as the agrima’s link-chain belt. Agni tugged at it and it did not budge. With a glimmer of excitement, he recognized it for what it was. A tayaka—a powerful talisman of immeasurable worth.

  When Agni looked up to thank the agrima, he found himself looking at empty space. It was as if nobody had ever been there. If he didn’t know better, and he didn’t actually, it would have been easy to believe that none of this had ever happened. But the ring pulsed with a faint energy, urging its reluctant owner to get cracking. And Agni resolved to do just that.

  9

  From Bad to Worse

  From a distance, even in the brightest daylight, the strange valley was so broad and vast, it looked like a sprawling, inky river with brooding islands that resembled the backs of snoozing krakens that may just bestir themselves and reach out with grasping tentacles, pluck out the inquisitive eyes in the sky and stick them down a slimy throat.

  The grim valley was encircled by formidable mountains. A shifting in the earth’s crust had thrown them up every which way, with scant regard for topographical harmony. They skulked in brooding silence, their surfaces barren, worn by the inclement elements and reshaped to resemble a child’s handiwork.

  A ragged group comprising some of the sorriest specimens of humanity were headed towards this destination, which had no name and could be found on no map. They had set up camp near a group of firs and were mutely watching the sun disappear behind the hills. The two men accompanying this lot had handed out small parcels of food and their charges had tucked into them ravenously. They had come a long way under difficult circumstances.

  Men, women and children—the youngest no more than ten years—were all so emaciated that their bones protruded painfully against papery skin that seemed to wrinkle in protest. Some of them did not wear shoes, and every one of them wore garments so frayed and tattered they no longer served the purpose for which they had been intended; they neither wholly covered their bodies nor protected them from the elements.

  Numbering about three dozen, they had been packed uncomfortably close together into a small truck that had journeyed for the better part of a week, with hardly any food and loo breaks, as they painfully bumped and bounced their way past the treacherous and impossibly narrow gorges that twisted and turned this way and that, the trails reminiscent of a mass of writhing eels. And they were just as slippery.

  Nobody complained when the road came to an abrupt end, and they were unceremoniously discharged at what was clearly a remote outpost of civilization, along with the surly gentlemen who would have had no trouble finding work as the henchmen of evil villains on just about any film set. They had covered the rest of the distance on foot, and the uneven terrain had done nothing to improve the disposition of their brutish supervisors.

  The duo looked the part—brawny, bad-tempered and given to language most foul. They stood off to one side and smoked their cigarettes, cursing the absent riders who should have been waiting with the ponies, not bothering to mask the disdain they felt for their charges.

  ‘I am surprised they have not chewed through the plastic and newspaper as well. They went through the rest of that disgusting slop quickly enough.’ It was the smaller one with the bloodshot eyes, bulging belly and extraordinarily hirsute arms who had spoken.

  ‘They are disgusting!’ he continued, spittle soaking his cigarette as he sucked on it. ‘Every one of them reeks worse than the contents of a septic tank. Would it kill them to make the acquaintance of a little soap and water? And why is it that these creatures, especially the little ones, always allow the snot running out of their noses to dry up in the vicinity of their mouths? It is not that difficult to pat the nose dry occasionally with a hanky. It makes me want to puke!’

  Hairy Arms spat out a gob of phlegm in their direction to register his protest against their unacceptable level of hygiene. They flinched at the grim rebuke, and this angered him even more, as if their lack of spirit, begrimed bodies and threadbare attire were a personal affront to him.

  His companion wished he would shut up already. Taller and more proportionate, with a conspicuous absence of hair on his scalp, he was by far the more dangerous of the two. Poverty pissed him off as well but he saw no reason to grouse about it, especially since he was not the one being carted off to unknown places for the rich and powerful to play their kinky games with. All he wanted to do was grab the money, hand over the merchandise to the riders and take off to one of those salons in the fancy resorts featured in the glossy magazines, where one could get massages with happy endings.

  Hairy Arms was still talking, ‘Scum like this deserve to have their kidneys removed or their insides devoured by the flesh-eating bacteria the multigazillion-dollar pharmaceutical companies inject them with. Hell, even the brothels will not—’

  ‘Shut your trap!’ Baldy hissed. ‘It is nothing to us what becomes of them and it is not your place to speculate on all that.’ He had been feeling restive about this entire business. A hardened criminal through and through, he was a veteran of dubious dealings in human trafficking, and it was reasonable to say that he was inured to the basest evil conjured up by the human mind. And yet there was something about this business that made him decidedly queasy.

  Perhaps it was the sight of one of those snot-nosed kids taking a dump in full view of the rest of the company and wiping his puckered arse with the help of a narrow leaf, he mused, not really wanting to confront the exact nature of his worries in case they got in the way of his pay cheque.

  There was darkness in this place, even in broad daylight, and it was blacker than the sins that crusted his damned soul. The mountain air was bracing and clean enough, but every time he breathed the stuff in, something foul settled on his tongue and fluttered like a trapped fly. No amount of nicotine or hawking and spitting could kill the taste. He shook his head and swallowed. The bloody ears were blocked too! What a time to get so anxious, he thought, swearing for all he was worth in the private sanctuary of his mind.

  For the umpteenth time, he berated himself for taking up this job. If only he had been content with condemning children to a lifetime’s hard labour on their backs and knees, he would have been able to breathe easier. The men he was dealing with were nasty characters, even by the standards of his entirely degenerate clientele. As for the conditions they had put forward, which included the utmost secrecy and a staunch refusal to allow him to arrange transportation for himself and the merchandise, it was beyond suspicious.

  Panic bubbled in his veins and sour sweat oozed out of the pores on his bald pate. He mopped at it with a moist palm. He should have returned with the truck driver and left his garrulous companion to see things through. But that would have meant kissing the dough goodbye, since his companion had notoriously sticky fingers. He resisted the urge to scratch his armpits, which were slick with sweat.

  Baldy made himself think of the money. A hefty advance had already been pocketed, and when the rest of the cash was paid over he would be sitting pretty. The thought made him smile, and as it spread slowly over his seamed face, every line, groove and wrinkle creased further. Hairy Arms was gazing at him curiously when the riders materialized from the shadowy curtain thrown up by the descending night.

  There were four astride the mountain ponies and one was on foot. ‘Bullocks’ balls! These fellas are straight out of the cartoons!’ Hairy Arms muttered, and his companion wanted to kick him. The four were clad entirely in brown, while the masks that covered their faces and their gauntlets and boots were edged with silver. A silvery-black stone hung suspended from their necks. Despite the shiny costumes and fancy jewellery there was something animalistic about those chaps.

  The one on foot nodded to Hairy Arms and Baldy. His presence was strangely soothing, especially to the latter. For one thing, he was not masked, though he was also clad in brown and silver. He was impossibly huge, with broad shoulders and a physique that was corded with muscle, the result of intense physical labour, unlike the prettily sculpted bodies earned in a gym. Feral eyes that were not quite human gazed steadily at him, and Baldy felt the tension ebb and flow.

  He found himself nodding when his partner in crime said with an uneasy chortle, ‘Finally, a bloody professional . . . And not a moment too soon.’

  Meanwhile, the quartet had swung down from their mounts. Two led their ponies and went on ahead, while the others converged on the group, gathering them up and driving them forward in the manner of sheepdogs moving the flock along to the desired path without causing them undue stress. Not a moment was wasted, nor was a single move superfluous. Baldy half expected them to start nipping at the heels of his merchandise.

  After the interminable wait, time seemed to have changed gears and seemed bent on hurrying things along at breakneck speed. A child began to cry when they took him away from his mother. She shushed him loudly and the sound bounced off the rock walls, repeating its message. A rider drew closer to him, gently prodding him along, and the little one hushed up at once.

  They were going to their deaths, Baldy knew that now. Perhaps they all knew. It was obvious in the way the adults refused to meet each other’s gazes, or in the way their spines were bent nearly double with dull resignation. All of them had known better than to believe him when he had rounded them up with his cock and bull story of reasonable wages and decent conditions of work. Some people were so desperate it was beyond pathetic.

  Every one of them was prepared to work hard if it meant not having to endure the crushing penury that had sucked the life out of them. They needed to believe that their life would amount to something more than the sum of its squalid parts. It was hope that was keeping them alive and it was hope that would be their death.

  Baldy and Hairy Arms both watched as the goods followed the riders in a single file across the narrow path, secretly glad that it was not them being led to their deaths in this embarrassingly sheeplike manner. The razor-sharp cliffs glowered at them as they began the precarious ascent. One by one they disappeared through the passage of rock, and Hairy Arms let out a sigh of relief that came out in a hiss. At least it would all be over soon.

  Hairy Arms was reaching for a cigarette that wasn’t there and Baldy tried to find the words to demand the promised payment and a quick passage out of there when twin blows were dealt to the backs of their heads in quick succession. Both dropped like stones. The last thing Baldy saw was the decidedly wolfish cast of the face that had fascinated him so.

  When he came to, Baldy nearly passed out again. He had been trussed up and secured to the back of one of the ponies. The trail clung to the sides of the rock wall and they were all inching forward along a path that gave way on the left to sheer cliff-walls. Supressing a shudder, he forced himself to avoid images of himself plummeting to his death.

  The wind howled in the passes, playing the bully and shrieking shrilly, knifing into exposed flesh with its icy touch and whipping leaves and grit into his eyes. He wondered if it would not be better to simply jump and put an end to his misery and the comeuppance that had clearly come for him. But in order to do that he would need to untie himself and, try as he might, the ropes just refused to give.

  Soon Baldy decided that the best thing to do was give up and aim for unconsciousness. Hairy Arms, who was just ahead, and in exactly the same situation, had discovered religion and was murmuring desperate prayers in a hoarse voice. It made Baldy want to hit him but he passed out before he could figure out a way to do so.

  The better part of yet another week elapsed before the ill-fated group were clear of the maze of passes and alpine forests and could begin their descent into the mouth of the valley that, to the naked eye, appeared to have no ending. A monstrous river ran through it all, cutting deep gorges and canyons into the naked rock-face.

  Clusters of trees and rock formations marked the inhospitable terrain. At the furthest point to the east, with the mighty peaks keeping watch, were the ruins of a former mining colony. Baldy was standing in the middle of the ruins, finally free of the ropes, because escape was clearly no longer an option. Not with ‘wolf-man’ on the loose. The one he had clearly seen on all fours, bounding off into the rocks on more than one occasion.

  The riders had not spoken to them yet. Curt instructions and occasional warnings hardly counted. Hairy Arms was praying and blubbering. Everybody else seemed resigned to whatever awaited them. Even the kids and their mums were dry-eyed.

  Past the ruins, an abandoned shed awaited them. Two of the riders struggled a bit with the door before throwing it open and ushering them all into the vast space inside. Mining equipment and the wreckage of monstrous machinery were strewn all over the place. At the far end of the shed stood two chutes.

  The silence was unnerving. They were made to fall into two lines and the door to the chutes slid open. One by one they lowered themselves in and disappeared into the depths at dizzying speeds. Baldy and Hairy Arms were among the last. They were not the only ones who screamed. Their descent into the darkness was accompanied by the shrill echoes of helpless cries for mercy.

  10

  Perfection

  When Baldy and Hairy Arms came to, they were in heaven. Or as close to it as was possible on earth. They were in the most luxurious dwelling ever designed. The floors and walls were of the finest marble. Decorators had adorned every available space with splendid paintings, murals and sculptures rendered all the more brilliant by the gemstones that adorned them, twinkling and sparkling with subdued brilliance.

  It had been freezing outside but inside it was always warm, thanks to the hot water flowing in the pipes beneath the floors. They had been allowed to bathe in heated pools after scraping the sweat and dirt off their bodies in the shower stalls, using the scrubs and scented soaps provided. After they had dried off with fluffy towels, attendants had helped them don garments made from the finest linen.

  They were fed a nourishing broth, with meat and potatoes, and thick slices of bread to top it all off. Bathed and fed, all of them were tucked safely into beds so soft, one would be content to remain in them for eternity. Hairy Arms revelled in the pervasive feeling of well-being, having allowed each one of the negative feelings to be washed away during that divine dip. Baldy was having a slightly rougher time. The fact that he wasn’t remotely panicky made some part of his brain panic just a little bit. But he felt too good to sweat it.

  It was with a smile on their faces that they all went to sleep, slender strands of doubt and fear that it was all too good to be true eased away by the overwhelming warmth and comfort.

  Nayima took in the scene, and she was pleased. ‘Everything looks perfect!’ she murmured. ‘Just the way I like it. From start to finish, the process has gone smoothly without a hitch. All the preparations are complete and now the only thing that remains is for me to administer the finishing touches.’

  The sheer harmony of the scene filled her heart with delight. Everything had a place, and everything was in its place. All her sicklings were fast asleep and looked positively angelic in their beds, which were arranged in neat rows in the sleeping hall, the bed linen arranged just so around their sleeping forms. She was proud of her dasas. Every one of them was a well-oiled machine and they did the needful even before she had articulated her commands.

  What a change from the time when they had been brought in! Clad in filthy rags and reeking to the high heavens, they were not fit company even for swine. Now they looked very close to the self-respecting human beings they were supposed to be. Ruksha thought otherwise.

  ‘They look like corpses—pale and bloodless. What do they have to smirk about anyway, given what awaits them? If their brains were still working and had not turned to mush from your aromatic vapours in the baths, they would have realized that they would have been better off if you had killed them quickly and left them for the worms.’

  Cream and gold curtains hung serenely over the massive bay-windows, filtering out the harsh sunlight to a muted golden glow. Nayima ignored her antagonist and turned her attention to the dasas instead, rewarding their efforts with a smile. Clothed in snow-white robes that were soft and fluffy, they were a pleasure to look at, as they unobtrusively glided all over the place, making sure everything was perfect. They ensured the place was spick and span and that nothing marred the flawlessness of the decor.