Tantrics Of Old (16 page)

‘No, the shooter doesn’t make them disappear,’ Adri replied. Pain. Shooting up from his left shoulder. Everything was silent. The witch had survived. They needed to get out of here, and fast. Adri already knew why there was just a single witch after them—they were a competitive lot, and this one wanted all three of them for herself. She wouldn’t call her sisters unless she was dying, and Adri knew he was in no condition to kill a witch. Not anymore.

Truth be told, he was clueless about how they’d found him. They mostly never hunted outside territory. Flight had been his first instinct, he hadn’t really stopped to think about the reasons behind their appearance.

‘You’re hurt. I can see blood,’ Maya exclaimed.

‘I know. We need to get out,’ Adri replied, forcing his attention back. He led the way again, hobbling. He had not looked down at his shoulder yet and he didn’t intend to until they were out of here. Claws of a witch were honed to the maximum, always razor sharp.
You’re getting careless, man. It’s only a flesh wound, now move!

Gray had picked up a metal pipe from somewhere and he held it tense as they walked. No one dared to walk fast now. A mud road led towards a railway crossing and beyond, and they looked everywhere, suspicious of all shadows. It was quiet again, and Adri held the shooter tightly in his good arm. With luck, the Dyne would have smelt mercury during the first discharge and would know what it was up against; it would be more cautious, even though it wouldn’t give up. The railway crossing was unmanned, and they stepped over the tracks, crossing to the other side. The area was slowly becoming residential once more—walls ran along both sides of the mud road, trees grew every few yards, casting the path in darkness. Streetlights were visible in the distance, as were houses and a few scattered people. Adri knew that was where they would be comparatively safe, but it was still a good deal away.

The siblings were scared, even more so as they saw the red trickling down Adri’s shirt. But he was still leading them, and the lights in the distance made them hopeful even in their fear. Maya felt a familiar fear grip her as they started walking beneath the trees. It had overcome her when the thing had attacked Adri; she had been frozen stiff like on the train, on the verge of tears. She had to focus, she had to keep her mind trained on making it to the lights.

A branch creaked. Maya looked up. Red eyes, gleaming. The loud gunfire came as a shock. Adri had seen the thing too and fired, and despite his good arm trembling, he hadn’t missed this time. The witch screeched in what could only be agony and jumped off the tree into the depths of another, further away from them. It was gone in seconds, and looking around, it seemed to Maya that she had just imagined all this happening, as if it was all part of some magical dream and they were simply out on an undisturbed evening stroll. It was merely a touch of escapism. She hurried to Adri and examined his wound.

‘No, we must get to safety first, we aren’t out of the woods yet,’ Adri muttered. He sounded weak. Gray offered to support his weight but Adri declined; the group slowly moved towards the buildings in the distance. There was no sign of the witches again as they reached a crowded street and walked through, unnoticed.

Adri’s wound didn’t catch too much attention among the other wounded on the street. Many people were bandaged. Everyone looked rough and struggling. Signs of a meagre survival. Many carried backpacks similar to Adri’s. People walked together, but they walked fast—conversations were quick and to the point. No time for dallying. They weren’t noticed much; though this suited them fine, the siblings did feel that the first real crowd of people in Old Kolkata felt rather cold to them. They were quite disturbed by the condition of the people. The streets were dirty, littered with all kinds of garbage—old newspapers, plastic bottles, empty cartons, everything tossed around by the evening wind as they walked, and they constantly stepped on something or the other, rarely finding the road itself. Some people seemed to be collecting all the trash into huge, boulder-sized mounds that they were tying up, and Maya guessed they would be sold—no one in a city struggling to survive would be bothered with civic duties. Somewhere, a man was screaming his lungs out in loud argument, and a baby bawled as they began to cross residential complexes. The buildings were all densely populated, candlelight burning inside every window. The gates were shut tight, padlocked. An occasional security guard. Without weapons.

‘How’re you doing?’ Gray asked Adri, who had been hobbling along silently, without any audible protest; except for his sudden grunts of pain when he stumbled and lost his footing.

‘We’re close,’ Adri replied.

Maya could see that it had taken Adri a lot of strength to just utter the words, and she did not ask any questions of her own. Adri moved off into a side street from the main road, then down an alley, into a web of buildings. They walked for about a quarter of an hour down narrow lanes, occasionally lit with lamp posts that burned with magical fire, taking sharp, sudden turns. Then Adri stopped all of a sudden, clambering up the few stairs leading to the front door of a house. It was a duplex, grey, wasted, squashed in the middle of two extremely tall apartment buildings—its windows boarded up. The front door, however, was a dark, rich wood; a touch of class, even in the semi-darkness. Even the pounding sounded rather nice as Adri knocked thrice, loud and impatient.

They waited.

‘Anyone home?’ Gray asked Adri.

‘He’s always home,’ Adri grunted.

Right on cue, a loud sound was heard—a latch being pulled back—and the door opened a mere crack.

‘Look who’s here!’ a booming voice spoke.

‘I’ve got a couple of friends with me,’ Adri replied.

The man who shut the door behind them didn’t have a name so far; Adri was too informal with him to call him by one. Not that Adri was talking much. Clearly knowing his way around the house, he had disappeared right after they entered. Maya and Gray watched in silence as the man locked the door, latched an age-old latch in place, and then finally slid a heavy chain around the handle. He was quite tall and huge. As he turned, they caught a proper glimpse of his countenance—shiny bald head, a huge black beard covering most of his lower face, and a thick, stubby nose. His features coupled with his size would’ve made him look formidable if not for his eyes—they glimmered with a light of their own, almost immediately making him look livelier, like the owner of a sense of humour. From the looks of it, he seemed to be in his fifties.

When he spoke, his voice boomed. ‘He already scarpered inside, did he?’ His voice was loud, rather brash, but had an uncanny texture to it; the siblings knew they would never forget this voice again. ‘No matter. Come this way.’ He led them down a long, dark corridor at the end of which they could see light. They emerged into a living room which seemed surprisingly comfortable—there was a fireplace where a fire crackled, lit for the express purpose of illumination; Old Kolkata was rather hot throughout the year. Two well-padded sofas stood facing the fire. An enormous rug lay under their feet, which their muddy boots were leaving marks on—not that the man seemed to notice—and various paintings and photographs ornamented the walls that otherwise would look bleak with the peeling wallpaper and windows boarded up. Adri’s bag lay near a sofa, but he was nowhere to be seen.

‘You two get some rest, right? Can see that you’ve been running. I’ll go see what Adri’s up to.’ The siblings nodded, and as they settled in the two sofas by the fire, the man spoke again. ‘We haven’t been introduced, I believe. You can call me Smith.’

‘I’m Maya, and this is Gray.’

‘Good to know. Well Maya, Gray, I’ll be back with your friend soonest I can.’

Smith made his way up the stairs. He knew where Adri would be. He thought he had seen blood on Adri’s shoulder as the young Necromancer had hurried by. Smith opened the door to his infirmary, and sure enough, there Adri was, shirtless, looking down at his shoulder, stitching a wound.

‘Would it hurt you to stay out of trouble for at least a short while?’ Smith asked, lighting another torch. Adri laughed harshly. Smith moved closer and peered at the wound. ‘Witches? How serious is it?’

‘The cut was deep, but she didn’t release too much of the paralysing agent; she didn’t consider me a threat until I made her taste mercury.’ There was distaste and anger in Adri’s voice as he continued stitching. ‘Speaking of which, I have only three quicksilvers left. Which brings me to you.’

‘Not a problem, you can stay here for as long as you see fit. But where did the Dynes get you? They never come this side.’

Adri paused mid-stitch. ‘I have some rather
bad
news, Smith.’

‘Tell me.’

‘I was hoping
you
would know something about this, but now I see I was wrong. My house, here in Patuli, has been burned down. Father is missing. The house Familiar is missing. There is no trace.’

Smith was grim. ‘Did you perform a—’

‘Yes I pyromanced, and the results are unsettling. I saw an Infernal.’

Smith was silent. ‘I did not know anything about this,’ he said finally.

Adri was silent.

‘Have you eaten? I will make something for the three of you, then. It’s late. Let your friends sleep off, then we will talk.’ He left.

Adri continued with his wound. Minutes ticked away, and to help hide the pain, Adri thought about his next move. Stocking up on ammunition was the most important thing. Never again would he be at the mercy of witches; he needed to perform some protective enchantments too, call in some spirits for defensive purposes. He had forgotten, for one day, how dangerous and unpredictable the city could be; it had almost gotten him killed. If the shot he had fired hadn’t connected with the Dyne, none of them would be here right now.

The door behind him opened again. Adri didn’t turn around until he heard Maya’s voice. ‘Adri?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, continuing to stitch.

Maya crept into the room. Adri was facing the other way, sitting on what seemed to be an operating table, with a complete set of tools next to him. The walls, wooden, had only shelves and more shelves—the room reeked with the smell of medicine and blood. She looked at Adri, and in the guttering yellow light she saw the inscriptions—old writing that crawled over his arms, then continued down his bare back in perfect symmetry. Tattoos. Her eyes were lost in the black swirls, in the intrinsic movement of the designs—they seemed to be moving in the torchlight; all of a sudden she realised that Adri was shirtless, and that he might not want her to see him like this.

He didn’t. Adri was quite uncomfortable, but he continued tending to the wound.

‘I was slightly worried, and Smith, he told me the way here,’ Maya said.

‘I’m okay. It’s not too deep. It could’ve been worse.’

Maya moved closer. Scars. Too many, for his age. Adri’s skin was battle worn with scars, little and large, recent and old, on his back and on his arms.

‘You have a lot of scars,’ she said without thinking.

Not all of them physical
. He said nothing.

‘What did the Dyne use?’

‘Claws. Sharp. But I’ll tell you how I got lucky. If they want they can secrete a kind of venom from their claws, a paralysing agent. It was there in this slash, but not enough to work immediately.’

‘Oh my god. So is it still at work?’

‘No, it’s worn off. I just have to finish with this,’ Adri fiddled with the needle, tore the string with his teeth, and then dropped the needle next to him, into a pan full of hot water. The blood slowly left the needle and swirled in the water, as both of them watched.

‘You need help with the bandage?’

Adri grunted. Bandaging was one part he could not manage alone; if he did, it would be terribly clumsy. Maya seemed glad to be able to contribute somehow—she took the bandage roll that he handed her and got to work. Adri watched her slowly bandage him, and tried not to feel awkward. It was.

‘I don’t like the effect they have on me, Adri,’ she spoke all of a sudden. It had either been on her mind, or she was trying to make the bandaging less uneasy.

‘The witches?’

‘Yes, the witches.’ Her eyes glittered in the firelight. Adri noticed for the first time that they were black. Not brown, not blue, not green. Black. What a strange thing to notice. ‘They make me want to give up all hope,’ Maya continued. ‘I feel like I’m on the verge of tears.’

‘The influence. It’s terribly strong in the first few encounters.’

‘How do you fight it?’

‘I told you, I’ve had training.’

‘Will we be seeing more witches in the future?’

Adri did not reply. He wanted to know what Maya was getting at without having to ask. Either she wanted to learn to fight the influence, or she wanted out. Should he be honest?

‘We might be,’ Adri said. ‘I’ll be better prepared for them from now. I wasn’t really—’

‘That’s not what I want to know. Train me.’

‘Took years.’

‘You’re so brutal,’ Maya frowned.

‘I’m honest,’ Adri replied dispassionately.

‘Doesn’t matter. You learnt at an early age, I bet. Try me now, I think I’m older than you were.’