Monica and the Black Fortress

by Richard Alexander (Gromets Plaza)

(story continues from Monica and the Black Fortress)

Chapter Fifteen – Apres le Deluge

The sight of Monica, bound and being herded ahead of the other three towards the flames in the temple made my heart miss a beat.  Then, as though echoing my disbelief, the landing we were standing on seemed to shudder.  We exchanged looks of alarm.

“What the hell…?” This from Abby.

“Earthquake?”  Leila asked.  It didn’t feel like any tremor I’d ever experienced, but now wasn’t the time for worrying about it.

I raced down the steps, followed closely by Rani and the others, our bare feet splashing through the puddles on the ancient stone.   We reached the covered walkway and sprinted hard, desperate in our haste, our wet skirts clinging to our thighs.  The corset and chain did nothing to help my freedom of movement, but at least we had gravity on our side.

The walkway itself was crumbling into disrepair, huge banyan and fig tree roots having broken the paving stones and grown through and around the stone columns supporting the roof.  We were obliged to leap over broken stone slabs and hurdle buttress roots that had risen from the floor.  

Our quarry were a shade slow in reacting to our pursuit, and Monica, with her bound arms, clearly could not move as fast as we were.  When we were only fifty metres away, Sanjay and Prakash turned to face us, obviously intent on a delaying action.  I saw then that along with their ornate and colourful outfits, they were also armed with swords.  It was like everybody had got dressed into their Sunday finest to commemorate Monica’s death by fire.

Seeta pushed Monica ahead of her down the last part of the walkway beyond where the two men were now waiting for us.  They had stopped about ten metres past where the path down to the bridge branched off to the right.  The walkway was narrow, barely two metres across, and it was plain at once that Prakash and Sanjay could hold us back without difficulty, for two men fighting side by side would effectively block the path of anybody trying to get by. 

We continued our headlong flight.  I hadn’t figured out just how we were going to get past – I only knew I had a sword in my hand and that I would do anything necessary to get to Monica.  I saw Seeta and Monica reach the point where the walkway bottomed out and then began the climb to the temple up a series of steps.

I was conscious of a sword-wielding Rani racing beside me as we passed the path to the bridge and then fell upon Sanjay and Prakash.  We clashed with the ringing of steel against steel.  Our swords were heavy, two-handed affairs, while those of our opposition looked more ornamental – shorter and slightly curved.  Rani and I quickly found out that our weapons were at a disadvantage in the confined space of the walkway.  I attacked Sanjay furiously, swinging with uncontrolled anger, and initially, because of the momentum of my rush, forcing him back. On the inside and slightly behind me, Rani screamed a blood-chilling yell as she attacked Prakash.  We made progress for perhaps ten seconds, as the two men absorbed our attack, parrying our blows if not expertly, then at least with more skill than I possessed.  I had no time to see how Rani was doing – I was wholly focussed on the bastard who had inflicted all these awful tortures on the girls, and who now intended to throw Monica into the flames.  

A red mist seemed to come down over my eyes as I lunged and cut at Sanjay in a fury.  I had never experienced anything like it before – rage seemed to overtake any element of control.  For that brief time I seemed to almost overcome Sanjay, until I took a horizontal swing at his head, not caring that the blow would have decapitated him if it had connected.  He moved at the last moment and the blow slammed into a stone column supporting the roof.  Chips of stone flew and the sword jarred in my hands, almost causing me to drop it, and leaving me exposed.  

I had barely time to parry Sanjay’s blow, letting my arms drop with the sword and only just getting my blade in the way.  Sanjay’s sword slid up mine and I felt a terrible blow across my stomach, as the edge sliced into my flesh.  I staggered back, hardly taking in a cry by Rani to my left, as she was pinned against the inner wall of the walkway by Prakash, their sword arms locked above them.   

Rani was in difficulty, but managed to a sharp knee jerk to the groin which saw Prakash crumple with a cry.  That was the moment that Sanjay came at me with renewed anger, hacking from all angles and pushing me back.  Rani’s attention was distracted from Prakash by this assault and she managed to slip in a lunge which caught Sanjay across the thigh in a bright red line.  He bellowed and turned to face her, taking his eye off me.  For a moment we all seemed to be glaring at each other, as though deciding who was to be the recipient of the next attack, and it was at that instant that a deep boom was heard, a shocking, shuddering sound that overlayed the incessant hissing of the rain beyond the covered walkway.  I saw Sanjay’s expression turn to one of disbelief, as he stared back past me in the direction of the fortress.

Unthinkingly, I gave in to my instincts and looked behind me.  A huge section of the base of the fortress, the very black cliff face on which the structure sat, had sheared away, releasing an explosion of water like a bursting dam.  Without consciously working it out, I realised that the great cistern inside the fortress that had held the rains of many monsoons over the centuries, had finally failed, as the outlet that had blocked up and led to the flooding of our chamber had brought about pressures that could not be contained.  Now the enormous wall of water, rocks and debris was crashing down the gully towards us.

It was one of those times when instinct takes over.  I was not conscious of the fact that Leila, Abby and Claire were nowhere about.  I only knew that in a few seconds the walkway would be engulfed as the flood inundated the gorge.  Rani screamed and dropped her sword, stunned at what was heading towards us. I grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her up several metres to where the little pathway led to the Cliff of Bones.

The Cliff of Bones was metres above us, reached by several steps down, then the bridge crossing, then the climb up the steps on the opposite side of the gorge.  To get to those steps we had to cross the path of the avalanche, and we had only moments to do it.  Rani saw at once what I intended, and we were down the steps and across the few metres that was the stone bridge in a matter of seconds.  The wall of water roared down the hill in a bursting spray of rubble and stones as we started the climb up the steps on the other side.  

My lungs were sucking in air for all they were worth, but the exertions of the chase and the fight had drained me.  The tight corset prevented me from taking the deep breaths I craved for, and I was conscious of a deep pain and something warm flowing down my left leg.  My body seemed to grow heavy and the steps steeper as we reached the small platform whereon stood a conical shrine surrounded by a litter of bleached bones.  Abruptly there was a surge of water around my legs, sucking at me, and I realised Rani was now ahead of me, hauling me the last metre on to the base of the shrine.  Here we stood and clasped our arms about the shrine, locking wrists in a desperate embrace with the shrine in between us, as the water tugged at my waist, then, just the flood wave had passed, leaving the trail of destruction in its wake.

Only then could I take in the fact that Sanjay and Prakash were nowhere to be seen, and that the enormous wave was now seventy metres downstream, smashing into the base of the temple of fire before it diverted to the right to vanish over the edge of a drop into the forest below.  

I was numb, still gasping for breath, my fingers locked around Rani’s wrists as I stared at the scene of devastation.  The bones that had surrounded us on the platform had gone, while the water had ripped out the bridge we had crossed and had stripped the gorge of all vegetation to a height of six or seven metres up the banks.  It had swept down the covered walkway and blasted out the other end at the base of the temple.  The rain had eased slightly, but there was no sign of any living thing.

Rani twisted her wrist free.  I saw blood streaming down her left arm from a deep cut in her bicep, and I tore a length off the hem of her skirt to wrap her arm and tie it off.  She winced, but said nothing – I think we were both in shock. Neither of us could find the words to deal with what we were seeing.  

I turned and retraced our steps.  The bottom of the gorge was now a metre of swiftly flowing water, compared to the mild stream it had been previously.  I looked back at the fortress.  A massive section of the stone ramparts had been brought down along with the cliff face on which it had been built.  It looked like a huge explosion had blown the face of it outwards, leaving a ragged mishmash of exposed rooms and gaping corridors and caverns, with a waterfall still pouring from the bottom level.

Rani and I held hands to steady ourselves as we struggled through the water to haul ourselves up the other side.  That was when Rani noticed the blood seeping though my skirt, diluting itself in the sodden garment.

“Steven!  You’re hurt!”

I had sort of noticed it before, but the impetus of events had pushed my wound to the back of my mind.  I recalled the fierce swing that Sanjay had taken at me, and I realised then that the blow should have spilled my guts.  It had been the chain still locked around my balls and looped over my shoulder that had saved me, absorbing the blow and turning what should have been a fatal strike into one that still left me mobile.  I saw a sliced opening in the corset and then realised that this, too, had saved me, reducing the cut to something manageable, and something which was perhaps best left alone at that moment.

“Uh…yeah… I don’t think it’ll kill me.  It can wait.  Now we have to get down to the temple…”

To Rani’s credit, she didn’t argue, and we helped each other up the steps to the walkway, then down the remaining length of it through the litter of bricks and stones that had washed down from the fortress. 

We could hear nothing over the rain and the water in the flooded stream, and soon reached the bottom of the walkway.  Here we could see where the force of the water sweeping down its length and coming up against rising steps had then blasted out the parapet to continue its way back into the stream and over the edge of the cliff into the jungle below.

The steps now rose about five metres to the temple, and to my horror I saw that each step was covered with dirt and rubble that was evidence of the ferocious power that had driven the water right up to the temple in what must have been some sort of gigantic blowhole.  The temple was a round structure perhaps ten metres across, roofed in a series of turrets supported by stone columns.  There was a walkway around the edge a couple of metres wide, bounded on the outside by a balustraded parapet, and a solid stone one on the inner side.  My heart sank as we crunched up the steps and saw the same spread of debris over the walkway that told me that part of the surge had washed through the temple.

There was a strong smell of burnt wood and ashes with smoke rising from beyond the inner parapet and hanging in the air.  I had a huge feeling of dread as I stepped across the walkway to look over the parapet.

“Steven!”

I looked down to see four faces staring up at me with probably the same look of astonishment that I must have had on mine.

The girls were standing in water almost up to their breasts, and I saw that inside the parapet the structure formed a steep-sided bowl, in the centre of which was a pile of blackened branches and brushwood, with smoke and steam still rising from it.  The surface of the water was an ugly mess of floating ash, twigs and rubbish. The side of the bowl was slick and smooth, and it was obviously too steep for the girls to climb out unaided.  

The joy of finding them all alive swept over me in a rush of relief, and I found tears welling in my eyes.  I blinked them away as Abby, wading closer to us, suggested I drop down something to help them climb out.  Relieved at having something practical to occupy my mind, Rani and I were left with no alternative but to strip off our already cut-down garments and tie them together, before tossing one end down to Abby.  

She grasped it with both hands and began to pull herself upwards, bracing her feet while Rani and I held on to the top end.  I could hardly believe what happened next. 

As Abby dragged herself over the parapet her eyes widened and she gave a sharp cry.  I turned and saw Seeta with one arm over the outside parapet, about to haul herself over.  In my preoccupation with Monica and the others, I had completely overlooked Seeta, somehow assuming she had been swept away with Sanjay and Prakash, though exactly how this might have happened I hadn’t thought through.  Now she was about to mount the stone coping, a small dagger glinting wetly in one hand.  Her hair was a mess and she wore a manic expression that made my stomach flip.  

Rani and I had lost our swords in the flood wave and we had nothing to defend ourselves with.  But even as this frightening realisation sank in, Abby’s actions made such thoughts superfluous, as she stooped to grasp a sizeable rock from the debris that littered the walkway and fling it at Seeta as she was halfway over the parapet.  The rock caught her on the shoulder and she lurched backwards, the knife dropping from her hand as she grabbed at the coping with it.  She managed to save herself initially, hanging over the side with both hands gripping the stone, her feet scrabbling for purchase on the other side.

Abby did not even pause in her actions as she seized another rock the size of a tennis ball and smashed it against Seeta’s fingers, first on one hand, then – as that let go – the other.  With a despairing cry Seeta vanished from our view.  When Rani and I leaned over the parapet we saw an orange-saried body far below, near where a wall of water had carved a swathe through the jungle at the base of the peak.

Abby was now sobbing and shaking, as the naked Rani put her arms around her and made small shushing sounds of comfort. A silence seemed to descend on the jungle surrounding us now, save for the ever-present hissing of the rain as I gazed out over the misty forest that had witnessed the end of the Mandrekar dynasty.

*   *   *

The rest of the day had turned into a blur of fatigue, cold, hunger and pain.  It had been eased by the joyful reunion with Monica, and after we had pulled her, Leila and Claire from the pit, there was excited chatter as we had put together how things had taken place.

As Rani and I had fought Prakash and Sanjay, Leila had led Claire and Abby down the steps to the bridge that led to the Cliff of Bones, but instead of crossing the bridge they had scrambled along the bank beneath the covered walkway to bypass the fight, before climbing back up and on to the walkway.  From there they’d raced to the bottom of the walkway and climbed the temple steps in a frantic effort to catch Monica and Seeta.  

In the temple the fire had been burning in the pit, and a struggle was in progress as Seeta had attempted to throw Monica into the flames.  The enormous surge of water that had funnelled up the steps behind them all had totally inundated the walkway around the pit, pitching them over the low wall into the fire, which in the same moment had been quenched by the mass of water, turning the pit into an ugly steaming pool.  Seeta had managed to cling to the top of the inner parapet, and had scrambled out after the wave had passed.  On hearing Rani and me approaching, we figured she had climbed over the outer parapet and clung there in a last attempt to hide, before her failing strength or a perceived opportunity to extract a final revenge got the better of her.  Had we not been hauling out Abby at just that moment, Rani and I might have become victims.

We had seen too much death in those last few hours, and combined with the suffering we had previously undergone, it had taken its toll.  Rani and I had both suffered wounds, and the others all bore scars of beatings.  We had taken stock of our situation whilst redistributing our diminishing clothing even further and staring up at the now scarred and ravaged bulk of the Black Fortress.  We had only managed to provide Monica with enough material for a short skirt, but she bravely said she didn’t mind going topless. She’d been more concerned with the wound I had suffered to my side, just below my ribs, and it was only then that the corset was finally undone.  The relief had been enormous, as I could finally breath properly.  That was the good news.  The bad news was that my wound began to bleed again, so the girls reversed the corset so that the cut in it was at the back, and when now laced up at the front over a wad of torn sari, it served as a pressure bandage.

“You should get it stitched up,” Monica had declared unnecessarily, though it was obvious this wasn’t going to happen.  With the corset in place, albeit looser than it had been, the repairs were as good as they were going to get.

It had taken us most of the day to find a way up the gorge and then – after a couple of abortive attempts to go around the base of the fortress – to find a route up the ravaged face to the huge hole in the side.  A dispassionate observer on the battlements would have seen a bizarre party of six half-naked, barefoot women, soaked to the skin, slowly clawing their way up an unstable pile of rubble and stones.  

By late afternoon we had reached the relative safety of one of the exposed corridors.  Our feet had been numb from the cold, and bleeding from cuts on the sharp black rock.  We had proceeded guardedly into the blackness, listening for sounds of life within the bowels of the castle.  The power was out and it was only through the whispered discussions and directions from Abby and Claire that we had finally emerged at an internal staircase that led us up to the topmost level where Monica, Rani and Leila had suffered in the Temple of Shiva.

Here we had explored further, but up until this point we had encountered no other people.  Finally we had found some food, but best of all, some regular clothing in the rooms that had been occupied by Seeta and Sanjay.  I had persuaded Monica to remove the wig with any solvent she could find, and this she had eventually done, along with my false boobs.  I was becoming normal again – at least, as normal as I was ever likely to be, sharing my life with these girls.

The road back to so-called civilisation had been in the form of a long ride in the 4WD with Rani driving.  The fort had been deserted when we made our way to the vehicle.  It seemed that the collapse of the cistern in the heart of the fortress must have scared off the guards.  Even the front pool, at the lowest level, was draining freely, exposing the detritus of years in its muddy bottom.  I reckoned that an event of that significance would be enough to lay a pall of bad juju – or whatever superstition was appropriate in those parts – over the Black Fortress.

We had called in at the railway station at Chandrai, here to retrieve our luggage - to the consternation of the employees, who had received no instructions from their boss.  Rani had taken charge and had roundly abused them, in the manner of Indians when they sense that they hold power over the less fortunate or lower class.  We had visited a doctor, who had stitched me up, but only after my worst moment, when Monica insisted in visiting a locksmith.  It was only when Rani had paid him handsomely that he agreed to go to the back of his shop with Rani to pick the lock around my goolies.  I didn’t know who was the more embarrassed of the three of us, nor did I want to know what story she told him.  It had just been one of those moments in your life which you consign to the bin labelled ‘repressed memories’.

*   *   *

Superintendent Laxman had met us at the Oberoi Hotel in Agra following Rani’s phone call.  He didn’t know whether to gush praise at our freeing of Abby and Claire, or to grill Rani about the deaths of two of India’s most prominent business community.  Of course by that time we had our stories all worked out, and it was just a terrible accident of nature that had caused it all.  We had to hope they would never find the body of Babur, but even when they did, Claire would be out of the country.

At the end of a long series of interviews, Superintendent Laxman had decided that his pension was not in any danger, and that Rani was definitely on an upward career path, and was now flavour of the month.  We all visited the Taj again, and Monica went funny on me once more.  I had made the mistake of taking her there to see the sunset on our last night before we flew back to Brisbane the next day via Delhi.

We stood at the head of the mirror-like pool as the sky turned from blue to a soft red.  Here to the north of the mountains of the Black Fortress, the monsoons had eased.  I felt desperate for the cool sunshine of the Queensland winter and couldn’t wait to get on the plane the next morning.  India had been so totally intense in every aspect – the people, the culture, the weather…  It was almost too much for the senses.  Monica was holding my hand.  It was the first time we had been alone for days, for Rani had dragged the other four out to a club to celebrate their last night in India.

“I can’t believe what we’ve been through,” Monica murmured, her eyes on the shining dome reflecting the sun’s rays.  There was relief in her voice, but also a sadness.  “I thought I’d lost you, Steven.  I thought they’d killed you.”  She turned to me and wrapped her arms around my neck, her lips meeting mine in a deep, lingering kiss.  I realised that she was crying, that all the tensions and stress and worry were now able to be released, now that we had somehow fought through the pain and horror to get Abby and Claire out.  Monica let go of her hard outer shell and I hugged her while she sobbed quietly on my shoulder. 

After a minute she pushed herself away slightly so that she could look at me, and brushed away the tears from her cheeks.

“I…I’m sorry.  I don’t know what came over me.  Well, maybe I do, I just don’t know how to explain it.  Maybe it’s this place…” she inclined her head towards the pale outline of the monument now silhouetted against the darkening sky.  I said nothing, for once in my life suspecting what might be going to come next, but not knowing how I might answer it.

“We make a good team, you and I, Steven.”

“We do,” I agreed, not knowing what else to say, and desperately wanting Monica to reveal whatever she had on her mind, wherever this was leading.  Monica was not someone you could push into doing anything.  She had to be clear in her own mind that it was where she wanted to go.  There was an awkward pause between us.  I looked into her blue eyes and she held my gaze for just an instant, then lowered hers.

“I…I wanted to say… thank you.”  I started to brush off her thanks as inconsequential, and that the others did as much as I did, but she interrupted.  “No, really.  I don’t just mean this time, but all the others… when you’ve been there.  You mean a lot to me, Steven – I want you to know that.  I…I think that I…”

A loud voice came alongside us.

“Will you all please be leaving, now, ladies and gentlemen.  The Taj Mahal is closing please!”  Monica looked at me with a teary smile and the moment was lost.  

“The others will never believe what we’ve gone through.  They’ll be so glad they stayed home.”
 

*   *   *

The Taj Mahal came up on the living room big screen, connected to Monica’s laptop.  There was a chorus of appreciation from the other girls as they took in the evening sunlight that Leila had managed to capture against a backdrop of brooding grey clouds.

The next photo was one of Abby, Claire and Rani, arms linked around each others’ shoulders in what looked like a nightclub.  Rani was wearing a silver collar and a plunging white halter neck dress, which looked suspiciously like the one Monica had bought for her on our first day in Delhi, in a bid to open up her mind to the sexy woman that had been hiding behind the dark business suit when we first met her.

“Woohoo!  Where’s this?”  Shawnee was kneeling at Monica’s feet and was right into the slide show.  She had just returned from her parents place in Sydney and was busting to hear our stories – so much so that the moment she had walked in the door she had pestered Leila to set up a show of her digital photos.  We had been back a day by that stage, and had gone through a cathartic session with Jill, Emma, Mary and Trish, sharing our respective misfortunes, before deciding that the issue of Wayne Bennelli’s demise was better kept from Shawnee.  Lovely girl though Shawnee was, her mouth had a tendency to operate without her brain being in gear, and for Shannen’s sake we couldn’t afford to take a chance of that happening at the wrong time or place.

“This is at a nightclub in Agra,” Leila said.  “That’s Claire on the left, Abby in the middle, and Rani on the right.”  It was the first time Monica and I had seen the pictures and I was surprised at the obvious good time Rani appeared to be having.  We had warmed to Rani after the events at the Black Fortress and the long drive back to Agra, and we were sorry to say goodbye to her at Delhi airport.  

“What happened to her?” Shawnee asked.

“We flew back to Delhi with her and the others, then we got on our flight to Australia.  I’m sure Rani will be an inspector by now.”

“What happened to her arm?”  Shawnee had observed the bandage still wrapped around Rani’s upper arm.

“That was a sword cut from one of the bad guys,” Leila said.  Shawnee was open-mouthed.  

“A sword cut!  Wow!”

“You ought to see Steven’s,” Leila added.

“What?  You got cut too?”  This from Jill, concern in her voice.  

“Show us!” Shawnee demanded.  I looked at Monica but she smiled and shrugged her shoulders.  Reluctantly I raised my shirt and exposed the ugly stitched-up scar running three inches horizontally just below my bottom left rib.  It had actually healed quite well, thanks to an obliging and competent doctor in Chandrai that Rani had found.  This had been the first day I had not had it covered by a bandage, as it had finally stopped weeping stuff.

“Holy crap!” said Shawnee, sliding over to run her finger over the reddened flesh.  “Just like Zorro’s mark – well, sort of…” Even the others were curious – and impressed.

“Does it hurt?” asked Emma.

“Only when I laugh,” I told her.  “Can we get back to the show?”

The chatter died down and we returned to several more photos of the girls in the nightclub.

“Looks like Rani lost a few inhibitions during the trip,” Mary observed.

“She did,” Monica agreed.

“But will still never be a natural submissive?”

“True,” Monica sighed.  “A shame.  I really got quite fond of her.  I told her she was welcome to visit us whenever she wanted to.  I said we’d fix her up with a nice Aussie bloke.”

“I bet that went down well.”

“She might just surprise us one day,” Monica said wryly.

“And what happened to Claire and Abby?” Shawnee wanted to know.

“You’re such a little inquisitor, aren’t you,” said Monica, stroking Shawnee’s hair fondly.  Shawnee grinned at her.  “I imagine by now they’re back in England.  Last we heard they were going to the British High Commission in Delhi to get new passports, and they’re probably home by now, with relieved parents.”

“Just goes to show what a dodgy business this B and D stuff is,” said Trish dryly.  “I hope they’ve learnt their lesson.”

“Absolutely right,” Monica concurred.  “I’m sure they’ll think twice about who they act as subbies for in the future.”

“And what have you guys been up to?”  Shawnee demanded of Trish.  “This must make your time here seem a bit tame.”

“Oh… yes.  We had one new client… He was deadly…dull.  He won’t be back again.  I think we were just too much for him.  We all really envy what Monica’s been doing.  She is just sooo lucky.”

Shawnee couldn’t see the knowing smiles exchanged above her head.

THE END

   
 
 

21.02.05