Heirs of the Demon King: Uprising (26 page)

Within moments, the body of the Wanderer was engulfed in a magical flame that burned with more intensity than anything Mathias had ever seen before. It consumed the body, the blinding flames shrouding the sight. There was no pungent stench of roasting flesh, only a faint hint of slightly acrid smoke that tickled at Mathias’s nostrils. The heat was incredible, and yet it did not burn or even singe him, despite his proximity.

Tagan remained where she was, focusing her efforts onto the cremation fire and winding the flames into ever-more exotic shapes and patterns that Mathias could never hope to name. Time passed; he had no idea how long. The shadows cast by the sun had moved, but it was impossible to gauge with any accuracy. Tagan finally drew a long, shuddering breath and opened her eyes.

‘It is done,’ she said and her knees buckled slightly. Mathias was there in a heartbeat to steady her, his arm around her, and she smiled gratefully and more than a little sadly at him. ‘I’m afraid that was just the beginning, my Mathias,’ she said in a voice he did not recognise. There was something so venerable in her tone, in the sad way that she looked at him. He drew her in protectively and kissed the top of her hair. She smelled, as she ever had, of flowers and freshness. But the scent of smoke was stronger than it had once been. Her display of magic had, truth be told, frightened him a little. Her power was now something beyond him, and deep down he felt a genuine fear that he was going to lose her.

‘You did well, Tagan,’ said Eyja. She, Giraldo and Warin moved to stand with her. ‘The time has come.’ She smiled at Mathias and the expression mirrored Tagan’s perfectly: that same slightly sad look. ‘It is time for you to go home. It is time for us to come with you.’ Her expression was hard steel, a far cry from the usual benign smile. ‘The time has come to put an end to the evil that blights the line of kings.’

C
HARLES
W
EAVER AND
his beleaguered knights struggled up the bank of the final dune and stared down the other side. The wind tugged streamers of grit from the surrounding dune crests to collect in the broad, dry depression, which was empty and entirely devoid of life. Sir Anthony sagged, certain that the elusive magi had once again managed to slip from their grasp and strand them in the desert.

Weaver, however, saw none of this. He looked down on an oasis. A sprawl of tents sat around a bright, clean pool fringed with leafy trees and people thronged the canvas avenues, carefully collapsing their bright pavilions in preparation for travel. A thin ribbon of smoke curled from somewhere near the heart of the camp, the last residue of the fire they’d seen. The whole scene rippled with a peculiar haze, as if it were being witnessed through poorly made glass. The Lord Inquisitor felt the familiar prickle of magic and turned to the despondent knights.

‘We are upon them,’ he stated simply. ‘Do not let your eyes be deceived by arcane treachery. We have run them to ground and will deliver the King’s justice.’

Despite their doubts—and their private opinions of the Inquisitor’s sanity—the knights drew their weapons and advanced down the dune.

H
OME
.

Back to England, then perhaps to Wales. The thought filled Mathias with a joy that he could not put into words. He had travelled so far in the past months. He had come such a long way from the hills and hollows of his childhood. Here he was, amidst the burning sands of a foreign desert, surrounded by some of the most powerful people he was ever likely to meet. He was fortunate—or cursed, depending upon your point of view—to have experienced so much in so short a time. He had grown.

Home
.

The word sent such a thrill of happiness through him that for a moment he was able to forget the gravity of their situation—one he still did not fully understand. All he knew for certain was that soon the journey would be over.

Home
.

‘How will we get there?’ His question was a simple one: childish in many ways, he knew, and he suspected he knew the answer. It was confirmed with Warin’s reply.

‘A sending, much as Wyn did to bring you to me. There are enough of us now that it will be a simple matter. With the three of us...’

‘Four,’ murmured Tagan. ‘I can do so much more than I once could.’

‘I am corrected. With the four of us and the power of this circle, we will be able to transport to the great circle in England in the blink of an eye.’

‘The great circle?’

‘Stonehenge.’

Mathias nodded. He knew. Somehow, he had always known. ‘But how far will we have to travel to reach the nearest circle? You said yourself that we are running out of time...’ He looked at Eyja and stopped speaking. ‘What? Why are you laughing at me?’

‘I am not laughing at you, dear one. The answer to your question is simple. We will need to travel...’—she took three paces until she stood at the edge of the oasis pool—‘about this far.’

‘The water?’

‘The whole oasis. The pool is merely the arcane centre and the strongest focus. We will perform the sending from here, just as soon as we are prepared’—the Seer exchanged glances with the others— ‘and as soon as some things are made clear.’ She lowered her eyes, unable to look at him, but he reached over and touched her arm.

‘Eyja,’ Mathias said softly. ‘I understand enough. A demon means to sit upon the throne of England and use that power to drive all magic from the world. The same demon has twisted the line of kings and seen the rise of the Inquisition. It needs to be stopped.’

She looked up at him and cupped his chin in her hand. ‘You are a fine man, Mathias Eynon,’ she said. ‘Whatever comes next, I want you to know that.’

Her words made Mathias a little uncomfortable, so he shrugged and gave her a slightly embarrassed smile. ‘You said something needed to be made clear,’ he said and there was a forceful manner to his tone that startled even him. ‘So what else do I need to know?’

Whilst around them the tribe continued striking camp, Mathias and the magi sat together beneath the shade of a palm. Mathias looked at them, so contrasting, so familiar and yet all still so strange to his eyes.

‘As I understand it,’ he began, ‘we’re going to interfere in Melusine’s plan to take Prince Richard as her own.’ He paused, then gave a weak smile. ‘Actually, that’s about as much as I know.’ He looked to Eyja. With the death of Akhgar, she seemed to have become the leader of the group, a position that had moved seamlessly and without question from the others. She straightened the skirt of her gown primly before she began her explanation.

‘If left unaided, Richard will be unable to resist the lure of Melusine. She will take his body and walk the land of men with her power unbound.’

‘How powerful is she, exactly?’ Mathias asked, remembering the alluring and terrifyingly awful presence that Wyn had shown him in his illusion.

Eyja closed her eyes as though speaking the reply somehow pained her. Somewhere at the back of the camp, a voice was raised briefly in a shout. Giraldo glanced over and his brow furrowed. ‘Speak fast,’ he said. ‘I think our time is running out.’

‘She is mightier than any one of us,’ she said. ‘An insidious force that can turn, break or corrupt this world and recast it in an image of Hell worse than any described in the texts of the Church.’

Laid so bold and bare it was horrific. Somehow, Mathias had always known that the truth that Wyn had spoken of would be hard to bear. Something so terrible that it could not be named. He felt the weight of responsibility press down on him and he felt the eyes of the three magi on him, trying to gauge his reaction to the news. He looked around the small group, his eyes resting last of all on Tagan. She looked back at him, implacable, expressionless. Hopeless, even. As though she had given up.

I am losing you and I don’t know why,
he thought. He tried to put all his love and desire into a single look and thought he achieved the faintest of smiles. He nodded at Eyja.

‘Then how can we defeat her?’ he asked, though he was not at all sure that he wanted to hear any more answers.

‘She is greater than any one of us,’ Eyja repeated, ‘and she cannot be slain in this world, not in a way you can understand. But we do not need to slay her. Together we only need to keep her from taking the prince. Even if...’ She paused, and a note of regret entered her voice. ‘Even if it means we have to kill him.’

Mathias nodded, but his expression was fierce. ‘We should try to save him,’ he said emphatically. ‘None of this is his fault. It is not even King Richard’s fault, from what you have told me.’

‘You have a noble heart, young Mathias,’ Eyja said. ‘It shall be as you say. There is, however, one other thing you must know.’

It felt like any further revelation might be one too many, but Mathias continued to listen.

‘When we arrive, the veil between the worlds will be at its thinnest,’ continued Eyja. ‘It is possible that other things may be drawn to the circle by the lure of the prince. Be wary of anything you see. Guard your mind.’

The shouts on the edges of the oasis grew louder, accompanied by screams. Giraldo was first to his feet, his sword drawn. ‘They’re playing my song,’ he said, with a wicked grin on his face. ‘I believe the King’s hounds have found us.’

‘
Your
song?’ Warin also got to his feet. ‘I still have a matter to settle with that man.’ With a whisper of magic, the form of the wolf was once more there before them, hackles raised and teeth bared. Warin turned his muzzle towards Mathias and bowed his great head. The instruction was quite clear, and with an elation that he wasn’t entirely sure was appropriate, Mathias also shifted into wolf form.

‘Tagan, come with me.’ Eyja moved to stand beside the girl. ‘You and I must begin the spell of sending. We will have very little time to complete the rite. Follow my lead. You have been through a sending before, but this will be more powerful. There will be no gentle passage of time. This will be
instant
.’

‘Like the way Giraldo transported us to his ship?’

‘Much like that,’ Eyja replied. ‘Only with greater control.’ Giraldo grinned at her. ‘Simply do as I do and follow the words of the chant. The earth will answer, it knows the way.’

Eyja looked over to the far end of the camp, where the screams had become shouts of defiant fury. The orange light of fire blossomed as the first tent was put to the torch. Eyja’s beautiful face grew grim. She waited no further, and with her hand in Tagan’s, led the young woman into the water of the pool. It was not deep, coming barely to their waists.

‘We must hurry.’

Salisbury Plain

England

T
HE
L
IONHEART
HAD
not been designed with the comfort of its passengers in mind. It was a weapon of war, not a carriage for nobility. As a consequence, the King and his son were feeling uncomfortable and cramped by the time the vehicle had reached the expanse of Wiltshire.

For Prince Richard, what had begun as something of an adventure had rapidly become a nightmare as he had discovered motion sickness. He elected to abandon the claustrophobic belly of the
Lionheart
and ride outside with the guards, leaving King Richard alone on the velvet-cushioned seat. Left alone with his thoughts, Richard fell to brooding. The entourage was making excellent progress and the navigator was certain that they would reach the henge within the hour, shortly before sunset.

For the first time in his life, he felt utterly helpless. Events had spiralled beyond his control, and he could see no way in which he could save both his son and his country. A knot of bilious hatred for Richard the Third formed in the King’s belly, but it quickly faded. If Tudor had won at Bosworth, what would the world have become? A nation of weaklings, reliant on magic and subservient to a church that beguiled them with mysticism.

How would history remember him, he wondered? Would he go into the books as a king whose rule saw the extermination of magic in his own country and across Europe? Would they remember him as the man who finally conquered the combined might of France and Rome? Would he simply be forgotten in the tidal rush of adoration that must surely go to his son, when all that Melusine promised for him came to pass?

Would his son even be the boy he knew? The demon was bound as surely as he by the pact that had been made, but what exactly had been the terms?

So many questions. Questions that the King could never hope to answer, even with the best of intentions. Instead, he closed his eyes and drew a shuddering breath as the
Lionheart
rattled on toward the shadowy horizon.

The Sahara Desert

Morocco

W
EAVER’S MEN WERE
hopelessly outnumbered by the press of warriors surging to protect the collapsing camp. The Lord Inquisitor had commended the knights for their courage in service to the Crown. Then he had given them all but a few of his remaining phials of alchemical fire and departed.

The knights put the phials to good use, hurling them into the forest of canvas as soon as they breached the illusion that surrounded it. Sir Anthony led the charge, his once noble visage reduced to that of a hollow-eyed wild man. He side-stepped the first spear thrust that came his way, cut the tribesman down and pushed deeper into the burning camp. Surprise, confusion and the impetus of the charge carried him further than he expected.

He cut down another warrior rushing past on his way to confront another of the knights, and then circled a burning pavilion as he descended toward the pool. He could see two figures standing in the clear water with their arms raised, a gentle glow spreading beneath them.

He heard a scream to his left, and turned to see Sir Martin fall with a spear in his chest. The knight fought on weakly, thrashing on the ground until two more blades pierced his body and he lay still. Something finally withered and died inside Sir Anthony at the sight, and a killing rage rose up in him, sweeping away his pain and the fatigue of the long journey.

He charged between the burning tents, cutting down any who stood in his way, his sword running red with the blood of the slaughter. He thought he saw one of his fellows between the press of bodies, the man surrounded and fighting for his life, but then he was lost from view.