The Demon Horsemen (27 page)

‘I’m not afraid of you,’ he said quietly.

‘You don’t need to be. Be grateful for that.’

He hesitated, as if he had more to say, but instead he turned on his heel and strode on, the matter closed for the moment. She followed him along the temporary streets of the camp towards Inheritor’s headquarters, stepping over the equipment of the rebel soldiers who were frantically preparing for the storm’s arrival. The first isolated, heavy raindrops thumped against the earth, on shoulders and hats and helmets and shields. The human violence of the day was about to be dwarfed.

T
he rain teemed on the roof tiles across the street from her window and formed a dancing mist. The abandoned house where the woman and her friend had brought her in the Southern Quarter could only serve as a temporary refuge. Ranu soldiers, with their pristine white uniforms, brown skins and thickly bearded faces, had helped them for part of the short journey from the southern promontory and the Bog Pit’s ruins. They were gentle men for soldiers, kindling Meg’s memories of a time in her life when Ranu soldiers had escorted her through Western Andrak to Marella. Then, her fear for her daughter’s safety had been a barrier between the men and herself that kept them as strangers. This time it was the euphoric fog that dulled her senses, although by the time the rain came and the women retreated into the first available empty house, the fog was evaporating, leaving her senses heightened. By then, Meg knew exactly who she was and what had happened.

‘There are scraps in here,’ one woman called.

‘Nothing in here,’ the other replied.

Meg’s saviours emerged from separate doors within the house. ‘I found enough to make a soup,’ the first woman, with dirty black hair, announced as she held up
two turnips and a carrot. ‘I found a bowl as well. We just need to start a fire to boil some water.’

‘I didn’t find anything to light a fire,’ said the second woman, a small-framed, heavy-breasted brunette with a dirty but fine-featured face. ‘Guess we’re buggered. Raw vegetables it is.’

The taller woman approached Meg. ‘How are you feeling now?’

‘I remember who you are.’

The woman smiled. ‘You already told me that.’

‘No,’ said Meg. ‘I remembered your face, but not your name. Crystal Merchant.’

Crystal nodded. ‘And you’re Batty Booker.’

No, I’m Meg
, she wanted to respond, but she let the deception stand. ‘I can help,’ she offered instead. ‘I’ll see if there’s something to start a fire with.’

‘I’ve looked,’ the brunette said indignantly.

Crystal shrugged. ‘Let her look, Flower.’

Meg smiled at the other woman and walked into the next room. It was a kitchen area, the open cupboards evidence of the search already made. A conversation in the adjoining room told her the brunette wasn’t happy with her company. ‘Why are we dragging the old dog around with us? We have to get out of the city.’

‘And go where?’ Crystal asked. ‘The Ranu aren’t our enemy.’

‘But we don’t need her. She’s just another mouth to feed. She’ll drop dead soon enough. We don’t need that.’

Meg smiled grimly. The Ranu were in Port of Joy. There’d been a battle. As best as she could work out, the Kerwyn were gone and the Seers as well. But where?

‘Find anything?’

The call from Crystal woke Meg from her thoughts. ‘No.’

‘Told you,’ Flower grumbled.

Meg picked up a shallow pottery dish, held her hand above it and willed a flame to life. She emerged from the kitchen into the front room and the women stared. ‘There was a tiny bit of oil in this bowl,’ she said, setting it down on the floor. ‘Better get a pot to boil water in.’

‘How did you light it?’ Flower asked.

‘Flint,’ Meg said.

Flower looked as if she was about to go into the kitchen to find the flint that didn’t exist, but Crystal stopped her by pointing to a pot on the cupboard. ‘That will do for soup. Hold it out in the rain. I’ll get a knife and start cutting these up.’

Flower grabbed the pot and went to the door. As she opened it, lightning flashed and thunder shook the windows.

‘How did you light the fire?’ Crystal asked.

‘Luck,’ Meg replied. ‘How long have the Ranu been in the city?’

‘Five days now. They kept us up at the Bog Pit ruins until one of their leaders said we were all free to return to our homes.’ Crystal glanced at Flower before repeating, ‘How did you light the fire?’

Meg adopted a solemn expression. ‘Magic.’ Crystal waited for further explanation. ‘Have you seen a black rat?’ Meg asked.

‘Why?’

‘Just wondered.’

‘There was one perched on your chest when I found you. Can you remember that?’

Meg smiled at the thought that Whisper had escaped. ‘Yes,’ she replied.

‘Ugly creatures,’ Crystal muttered, repulsed by her memories of the Bog Pit.

Flower returned with a bowl of rainwater. ‘I saw people catch and eat rats raw there,’ she said.

‘The one sitting on you was the biggest I’d seen,’ Crystal added.

‘Where did it go?’

She shrugged. ‘Disappeared down a hole.’ She reached for a knife on the sideboard and started chopping the vegetables, while Flower found a brick and a stone and balanced the pot of water above Meg’s fire.

‘Why were you in the Bog Pit?’ Flower asked as she sat back from the heat.

‘I was looking for something somebody doesn’t want me to find.’

‘And what’s that?’ Crystal asked.

‘A canvas bag.’

The silence following her answer surprised Meg. Then Crystal asked, ‘What does it contain?’

‘A relic. Something the Seers are very afraid of,’ said Meg, and she looked straight at Crystal. ‘Something your grandfather knew a great deal about.’

‘How do you know about it?’ Crystal lowered the knife and the chopped vegetables into her lap.

‘Chase is my grandson.’

Astonishment and understanding flowed together across the young woman’s face. ‘When I came to your bookshop wanting to know about the Demon Horsemen I had no idea you knew about this.’

‘I didn’t know then,’ Meg explained. ‘I didn’t know about Chase or the bag.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Flower intervened, confused.

Meg glanced at Flower and said, ‘Who is she?’

‘She befriended me in the Bog Pit.’

‘We need to talk,’ Meg said, ‘and quickly.’

‘I don’t like secrets,’ muttered Flower.

‘Then watch these boil and don’t listen,’ said Crystal, handing the vegetables to Flower, and she winked at Meg.

The storm was stronger than anyone had anticipated. The wind roared out of the west to batter the coast with mountainous waves, smashed ships against the docks, tore tiles from rooftops, and wailed like a tortured creature through the new ruins on the bluffs. Huddled in the tiny room, shutters and doors rattling, listening to the rain lash the roof, Meg stared at the sleeping figures of the two women in the soft amber light she had created with a warming spell on the living room hearth. The pieces had come together in the hours since her talk with Crystal. Crystal had passed the bag to Inheritor just before Shadow’s assassination attempt against the king, his usurpation of the throne and Crystal’s imprisonment. The mind that had probed Meg when she was imprisoned and drugged belonged to a Seer, and that mind had known nothing about the bag’s whereabouts or its contents. Shadow had never passed the bag to the Seers. That was the only logical conclusion. So it was Shadow she had to hunt to retrieve the bag.

Thunder rattled the earth and Crystal stirred in her sleep and rolled onto her left side.
Everyone loses in this struggle
, Meg mused.
How different the world must be for her
. Her thoughts turned to Whisper. The rat had always survived, sustained by the embedded amber.
Where is she now?

Here
, came the reply.

Startled, Meg searched the shadowed room with her eyes.
Where?

Above
.

Meg peered into the rafters until she discerned a dark shape and the glint of rat eyes staring down at her.
How long have you been up there
?

Always
, came the rat’s reply.

Meg should have known.
Going
, she communicated.

Whisper scampered along the rafter and descended a post before dropping nimbly to the floor, her movement masked by the wind and rain. Meg rose and glanced at the sleeping women, then crept into the adjoining kitchen space. She waited for Whisper to squeeze through the gap in the door, then chose a space between the wall and the chimney bolster to form a portal. First she would return to the others and tell them what she had learned. Then she would find Shadow and retrieve the bag.

She ushered Whisper through the blue haze and was about to step in herself when a voice stopped her.

‘What is that?’ Crystal Merchant was peering around the door.

‘It’s a portal,’ Meg calmly replied. ‘I have to go.’

‘Where?’

‘My family,’ she answered and stepped into the light.

The wind rushed through the trees and lightning split the starless night, but the wild centre of the storm was away to the north-west when Meg appeared at the edge of the bushmen’s camp. Whisper scampered across the dark ground to the false hut and Meg followed. Inside the hut she felt for and found the ring handle to the trapdoor into the underground labyrinth. She conjured a sphere to light the narrow corridor, but extinguished it when she saw the warm glow of firelight and heard the quiet murmur of voices. She listened until she identified familiar voices before she entered the common chamber.

Passion greeted her with surprise and delight. ‘What’s the news? Is the battle over?’ The other three women with Passion broke into further questions that immediately confused Meg.

‘What battle?’ she asked. ‘Where is everyone?’

‘Gone to trap Shadow’s army between us and the Ranu,’ Passion explained.

‘When did they leave?’

‘Three days ago,’ another woman told her.

‘We saw the storm coming and wondered if they would be safe,’ said Passion. ‘Everyone was wondering what had happened to you.’

‘I had a few complications,’ Meg explained.

‘Why the Jarudhan garb?’ a woman asked.

Meg tugged at her yellow smock, a replacement for her lost clothing scavenged by Crystal after her rescue from the Bog Pit ruins. ‘Disguise,’ she explained. ‘How’s little Jon?’

‘He’s good. Asleep,’ Passion told her. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘I’m fine,’ Meg replied.

‘What will you do now?’ Passion asked as they sat down together near the low fire.

‘I’ll sleep tonight to gather my strength,’ said Meg, ‘and tomorrow morning, before sunrise, I’ll join the others. Where did they intend to set their camp?’

‘We only know a little of the plans,’ another woman said. ‘Inheritor wants to establish peace, but he also intends to call Shadow to account for what he’s done. He’s hoping the Ranu will negotiate a treaty.’

Whisper climbed onto Meg’s lap and curled up as she listened to Passion and the others tell what they knew. Time was rapidly running out. If she was lucky, Inheritor and his army would stop Shadow and the Seers. If not…No, there was no alternative. She wouldn’t let it happen.

‘This storm is a curse,’ Shadow complained as he took his seat at the table in the tavern with the Seers and Warlord Fist. As if taunting him, the wind rattled the wooden shingles and doors.

‘It could also be a blessing,’ Word suggested. ‘It
keeps the Ranu battened down in the city and we have time to prepare our strategies.’

‘It also gives my scheming brother time to regroup his rebels. How could he have marshalled an army in so short a time?’

‘It’s been reported by reliable observers that the old Shessian warmaster is coordinating his troops,’ said Warlord Fist.

‘Who would have been long dead had it not been for your incompetence and that interfering Abomination!’ snarled Shadow.

‘At least the Abomination is dead,’ said Fist.

‘How can you be so sure?’ Word asked.

‘I was there,’ said Fist. ‘There was nothing left. The Ranu bombardment blew the gaol to smithereens.’

‘You saw her body?’ Word asked.

‘There was no body to be seen,’ said Fist. ‘The whole upper building disintegrated in a massive explosion. When we searched the area there was nothing but a crater full of shattered stones.’

‘She has escaped death before,’ said Word.

‘If she escaped this time, then it’s Jarudha’s work and she’s not meant to die,’ said Fist with vehemence. It was a taunt to the Seers that Word could not misunderstand.

‘She also should have been dead before this,’ Shadow noted angrily, with a steady eye on Word. ‘From this point forward, all orders I give will be obeyed without question.’ He cleared his throat as if emphasising his determination and addressed Fist. ‘Any news from our special forces?’

‘I haven’t heard from them,’ said Warlord Fist, raising his voice to be heard above the drumming rain on the wooden shingles.

‘This weather could suit their purpose,’ Shadow said. ‘If they eliminate my brother and his mad warmaster, half our battle is won.’ He motioned with his hand to dismiss the warlord.

His expression showing that he was peeved to be asked to leave like a minion, Fist rose and took his oilskin coat from an attendant before he plunged into the pouring rain with his bodyguard to return to his quarters across the street.

Shadow waited for the discussion in the room to settle before he addressed the assembled Seers. ‘The existing situation is intolerable,’ he began. ‘My brother intends to dictate the future and, if I know him, he will negotiate terms with the Ranu that will isolate us from what is ours. Our dream of Paradise will be lost.’

‘That is not Jarudha’s plan,’ said Word.

‘Isn’t it?’ Shadow queried, sick of the Seer’s excuses being couched in terms of Jarudha’s greater plans. ‘Then why has He let the Ranu drive us from the city? And why has He brought my brother against me? Answer that.’

Word retained his solemn expression. ‘A test and nothing more. He tests our resolve.’

‘Then our resolve should be to act. I have made plans for my brother’s imminent demise. What are you intending to do?’

‘What would you have us do?’ Word asked.

‘Scourge the city of these Ranu,’ Shadow told him. ‘Call down the Demon Horsemen.’

He noticed the nods of approval from Word’s colleagues, but Word remained implacable.

‘This should only be a last resort.’

‘We are at a last resort!’ Shadow snapped. ‘The city is lost. The artefacts are lost. What else will it take for you to call them?’

‘Calling the Horsemen is…It comes at considerable cost,’ said Word wearily.