‘Wait, wait, no no no!’ he stammered, fear pumping its paralysing ice into his every nerve, ‘I’m no’ r-, r-, ready fir this, I cannae hold you up, you’re bigger than me! This roof is sli-, slippery, we’ll both fall to our deaths, I cannae, I c-, c-, cannae—’
‘You can, my boy. Your tiger strength is enough to hold us both safely.’
‘N-, n-, no! No guru ji, DON’T!’ William screamed as he saw what was about to happen.
The Teacher smiled, leaned back over the edge … and let gravity do the rest. Without knowing how, William surged forward and shot out his right arm with the speed of a striking cobra, snatching hold of the front of the Teacher’s robe as he toppled back. His feet skidded along the red-painted tiles as the Teacher’s weight yanked him forward, but with a roar he dug his heels in, feeling an immense strength surging abruptly through every muscle in his body.
Panting heavily, with his muscles on fire, he found himself standing on bent knees, holding the still-smiling teacher – who was at an almost horizontal angle over the edge now – with one hand, his fist gripping the rough-spun fabric of his robe.
‘You see,’ the Teacher laughed, joyous and seemingly oblivious to his position of absolute peril, ‘tiger strength! It is not only within you, it is you! Pull me back up now, cub. It should be quite easy now that your tiger abilities are active. You see, what we will have to do is to develop this ability that you already have, and make it into something that you can call upon at will, rather than something that you can only access in moments of sheer panic, when it kicks in by some subconscious instinct, as it has just done.’
The blare of an impatient horn and someone shouting in Thai behind him jolted William back to the present, in which he was straddling a motorcycle in the middle of Bangkok traffic, and he shuddered as the wisps of the memory, like disintegrating spiderweb threads, fell away from his mind and consciousness. He clicked the bike into gear and sped off, accelerating hard and zipping with agile ease through the smog-choked morass of slow-moving cars and scooters.
***
Zakaria flipped open the visor of his full-face bascinet helm and locked a grim stare into William’s eyes.
‘Are you ready for this fight, my brother?’ he rumbled. ‘Mind, body, heart and soul?’
Zakaria was dressed in a full suit of what looked like fifteenth-century plate armour. It was no antique though, and neither was it a mere Halloween costume, like those in which the throng of revellers outside the KSM Nightclub were attired. Zakaria’s suit of armour had been fabricated from modern high-carbon steel, and reinforced inside with titanium plates and carbon fibre to make it somewhat resistant to bullets.
The motocross racing gear in which William was clad had also been enhanced with powerful materials to protect him from bullets. In his bright neon gear, he and Zakaria made a jarringly unlikely pair, but on this one night of the year, nobody batted an eyelid in their direction.
‘Aye brother, I’m ready,’ William answered, his eyes glinting with the same polished gleam as the shining suit of armour.
‘Good, good,’ Zakaria said, his left hand resting on the pommel of his two-handed sword, which, like his armour, was no mere stage prop. ‘But listen, I want you to promise me that if things go awry you must escape. Save yourself; do not worry about the rest of us. Not only for the sake of preserving what knowledge you possess of the Eastern Council’s power, wisdom and teachings, and the location of the lost Mothers, but also for preventing that knowledge from falling into the hands of Sigurd and his Huntsmen masters. You know what kind of darkness would fall over the earth should those demons get hold of it.’
‘I know, old boy, I know. They won’t take me, not alive at any rate.’
Zakaria frowned.
‘You say that now, but I know you well, Tiger. You are stubborn, and more than a little reckless. I want your word and your honour on this – and I want you to swear it to me in her name.’
A look of anxiety, streaked with cutting despair, crossed William’s face. He began to stammer, suddenly unable to reply with any real coherence.
‘I-, I—’
Zakaria remained firm and resolute, his stern grimace unmoved by pity or sympathy.
‘Swear it William. Swear it in her name, or I will call off this entire mission right now.’
William removed his motocross helmet, ran his fingers through his hair and turned to stare down the shadowy passage of the alley, losing himself temporarily in the swirling sadness of the past. Presently, he turned to Zakaria to speak.
‘I swear it,’ he uttered.
‘Swear what? Say all of it, and say that you swear it in her name.’
‘I … I swear that should this mission fail, I will not sacrifice myself, nor attempt any foolhardy rescues of my fellow Rebels. I will stay alive, and I will escape. I swear this on … I swear this in … Au-, Au- … Aurora’s name.’
Tears burned and stung at the corners of his eyes as these sacred syllables passed through his lips, and a knotty sob began to claw its way up his throat. Zakaria nodded, his eyes softening with sympathy, and he reached out to place a steel-encased hand on William’s forearm.
‘Thank you, brother,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry that I made you say that, but I had to. You do understand, don’t you? I had to make you swear this. We, nay, not just we, but the world itself cannot afford to have you captured.’
William nodded, his eyes glistening with a sheen of tears.
‘I know, old friend, I know.’
‘All right,’ Zakaria grunted as he turned and clicked his stiff neck inside his suit of armour, ‘let’s discuss the details of the plan. So far, everything is
