Ash Mistry and the Savage Fortress. Sarwat Chadda

meant no disrespect, Master.”

      Savage lifted his foot. “Get up.” He turned and stepped out the door. “And put on your glasses. I don’t want you scaring the mortals.”

      Mortals? What’s going on?

      Mayar stood up and straightened himself. He muttered something that probably wasn’t complimentary about Savage, then picked up his glasses with a grunt.

      As he raised them to his face, Ash saw his eyes and gasped. They were yellow, and the pupils were a pair of black, vertical slits.

      The eyes of a reptile.

      Mayar slipped the glasses back in place and the two of them left. Ash suddenly remembered what a rakshasa was. The old Indian legends were full of them, but they had a different name in English.

      It was demon.

      

      

sh stayed paralysed behind the curtain. The formaldehyde from the broken bottles stank out the room and his eyes watered, but any second now the door would open and Savage – or worse, the rakshasa – would burst back in. No, he couldn’t move; too dangerous.

      Ash blinked, staring past the fog that rose from the spilt chemicals. The snake with the baby’s head had unravelled from its jar, and Ash saw it had two tiny arms tucked across its chest.

      What was going on? Did that man really have those reptile eyes or had Ash just imagined it? Savage had called him a rakshasa, or had he misheard? Yes, that must be it. This was the real world. Maybe the man had some sort of disease. There was a lot of that in India. He wasn’t a demon. Just a man.

      Just a man with crocodile eyes.

      Ash slowly drew back the curtain. He held his breath, ears attuned to any noises from outside, then stepped cautiously into the room. He had to get out, right now. There was the door but what if Savage and Mayar were still there?

      Ash peered out of the window. Bloody hell, it was a long way down. The stones were coarse and weathered. Easy. But as he leaned over, his head swam with vertigo. Yes, easy if you were a ninja. No way was this going to work.

      Think think think!

      Ash went to the door. He tried not to panic, tried not to imagine either Mayar or Savage just outside the door, silently waiting for the thief to emerge. Heart thudding, Ash drew it open.

      The corridor ahead was dark, silent and empty.

      Thank God.

      That was bloody close. Ash wiped the sweat off his face with his sleeve. Just get out. That’s all. Find the others and get out.

      He caught a glimpse of himself in one of the big, dusty mirrors. He looked like death: pale, sweaty and if his eyes had been any wider they’d have fallen out of their sockets.

      Then he saw a man standing right behind him.

      Ash screamed as he was spun round and thrown against the mirror. Bony fingers tipped with jagged, talon-like nails dug into his cheeks.

      “What have we got here?” the man hissed. “A spy? A thief?” Tall and exceedingly gaunt, the man was twice Ash’s height but so hunch-backed they were face to face. A long, hooked nose dominated the thin face and the man was bald, utterly hairless in fact, with no eyebrows. His eyes were obscured behind a pair of round, pink-lensed glasses.

      “No, I was just looking for the loo.” Ash pleaded.

      The man shook his head and his skin, two sizes too big for his body, flapped under his chin. “You’re lying. I can see it in your eyes.” He pushed his thumb nail into Ash’s face until it pierced the skin. “Those plump, juicy eyes—”

      “Hello? Ash? Are you there?” It was Uncle Vik.

      The man dropped Ash instantly. Ash ran straight into his uncle’s arms. He’d never been happier to see anyone in his entire life.

      The bald man cleared his throat. “The poor boy was lost. I was just bringing him to you, Professor Mistry.”

      “Thank you, Mister…?”

      “Jat. My name is Jat.”

      With his uncle beside him, Ash faced the man who’d grabbed him. Another one of Savage’s bizarre white-suited servants. Ash tightened his hold on Uncle Vik’s hand.

      “I really want to go home,” he said.

      Of course Lucky was right there, playing catch with a couple of other kids. Ash and his uncle joined his aunt as she chatted with another guest.

      “Auntie, I feel really sick.”

      It was true. Extremely sick. With fear.

      “Very well, Ash.” She broke off from the conversation, her eyes bright. “You won’t believe what’s just happened.”

      “I’ve some amazing news, Ash,” said Uncle Vik. His free hand tapped his breast pocket, where he’d put the cheque.

      “Great. Let’s go.” Ash glanced back at the hallway door.

      Jat was there, talking to the big man, Mayar, and Jackie.

      “Freaks,” Ash whispered to himself.

      Jackie snapped round and looked straight at him. Had she heard? From way over there? She grinned, then returned to the conversation.

      “No. No. Wait.” Uncle Vik carefully drew out the cheque and, using only his forefingers and thumbs, gently unfolded it. “Look what Lord Savage just gave me.”

      Up close Ash saw the cheque was from Coutts Bank and a larger size than normal. It would be, wouldn’t it? The Queen banked there. Savage’s handwriting was copperplate, old fashioned and elegant, his signature a gracefully drawn series of narrow loops and swirls.

      Ash looked back to the door: the three were gone. “Can’t we talk about this later? I want to go home.”

      Uncle Vik waved the slip in front of Ash. “This is two million pounds, nephew. Two million.”

      “But why?” Ash glanced around. He couldn’t see them anywhere. But they had to be quick. “It’s not right, is it? He could employ a whole university with that. Why just you?”

      “He needs my expertise. You don’t understand, Ash. There are some translations that he wants done and I’m the only one who can do them. We’ll be making history.”

      “A man just gives you two million quid. Don’t you think that’s strange?” Ash checked over his shoulder, but none of Savage’s white-suited henchmen, or the man himself, were near. “Savage is a freak. He surrounds himself with freaks. Give the money back, Uncle.”

      “Lord Savage is an… unusual man.” Vik took off his glasses and turned them over, looking at them. “But his reputation, Ash, his reputation is second to none.”

      “He’s a freak. Are you blind or just stupid?” Ash shouted it out and a few guests turned his way. He wanted to shake some sense into his uncle.

      Aunt Anita glowered at Ash. “Ashoka Mistry, how dare you speak to your uncle like that.”

      Ash was angry, and scared. He looked up at his uncle. “That’s not what I meant.” But it was too late, he’d struck a nerve and saw the hurt in his uncle’s eyes.

      “You don’t understand, Ash. This is a golden opportunity for me to prove myself.” Uncle Vik nodded as if he was accepting Ash’s apology, but he wasn’t really listening. “Don’t you think we all deserve some recognition? Some small proof that our lives meant something?”

      Ash looked down at his Converse, unable to meet his uncle’s gaze.

      “My