The Demon Horsemen (3 page)

The soldiers lowered their peacemakers, looking puzzled. She guessed they were wondering how an old woman could have bested them so thoroughly. She turned back to the four men standing before her. ‘You’ve done as I asked and I’m grateful,’ she said. ‘Go back home. Your job here is finished.’

She waited for the soldiers to retreat across the bridge and back to the ruined temple before she concentrated on her memory of the library. A blue haze formed in the crumbled doorway. She gathered Swift’s heavy and bloodied body in her arms and, struggling with the weight, stepped through the portal.

M
eg was in territory beyond her experience. In the past when she had applied her healing skills, she had felt radiant warmth emanating from her spine through her hands and into the receiver of her healing, but this time she felt as if she had been pulled into Swift’s psyche. It was like falling into a wild river where survival was utterly dependent on keeping a clear head and moving with the current. Her instincts warned her to scramble for safety, to escape the torrent, but she trusted a deeper sense and let herself sink into the rushing maelstrom. And just as she thought she would be overwhelmed, she felt the pain and fear dissolve, to be replaced by a great stillness, a silence deeper than midnight on a moonless open plain. Somewhere in the silence and emptiness she knew she would find Swift, or at least her spirit, and when she spied a small, soft light glowing at the edge of her vision she pushed towards it, walking and yet not walking, floating as one moved in dreams. When she reached the light, she found Swift’s self curled in a ball in its glow, like a tiny child. She reached out and touched the child’s shoulder. Swift flinched at the contact and bunched more tightly into her ball.

‘You will be all right,’ Meg crooned. ‘I am here to heal you.’

The child looked up with eyes that were deep green pools of terror, at once pleading for help and yet begging her to go away—a look that startled Meg and filled her with immense sorrow. For an instant, she doubted her right to be where she was, but she also felt a welling love for the child who could be the daughter of her lost and beloved son, Treasure. It was a maternal pull that strengthened her resolve to save Swift even from the verge of death.

‘Give me your hand,’ she said gently, and when the child’s green eyes questioned her she added, ‘I will always keep you safe. Give me your hand, my granddaughter.’

‘Will she live?’ Chase asked, standing next to Swift’s supine form stretched out on the library table.

‘Yes,’ Meg replied, exhaustion in her voice, images from the depths of Swift’s spirit vivid in her mind. ‘Yes, she’ll live.’

‘Why did you let the soldiers go?’ Wahim asked. ‘They’ll go back and tell their leaders what you’ve done. The Kerwyn will know we’re still alive.’

‘I can’t kill innocent people,’ she answered. ‘A long time ago I learned what it meant to carry the amber legacy. Men—even Queen Sunset—wanted me to kill people for them with my power. I won’t do that. Power isn’t meant to be used to destroy. It is meant to be for the good of all.’

‘It doesn’t serve any good if the enemy stops you from using it,’ Chase argued.

‘Where’s Erin?’ Meg asked, changing the subject.

‘With Whisper in the Jaru chamber,’ Wahim said. ‘He was afraid the rat…I mean, his sister’s spirit, was going to die.’

‘Then I’d better see if I can help,’ Meg said. ‘Chase, stay here with Swift. She’ll sleep for a long time. The wounds were deep and she lost an enormous amount of blood. She’ll need several days of rest to recover from the shock.’

‘You look like you could do with some sleep as well,’ said Wahim kindly.

‘I’ll see Erin first,’ she replied, and, with a glance towards Swift, headed out of the chamber. A familiar bluish light was emanating from within the Jaru library chamber, and when she entered she saw the portal shimmering against the far wall. A light sphere floated above a table on which was spread a thick woollen green rug. Curled on the rug was Whisper, asleep.

She headed first for the table to check on the rat. The bullet wounds were gone—healed—and, like Swift, the rat was in a deep recuperative sleep. Meg knew that the sliver of amber embedded in Whisper would aid her to recover far more rapidly than Swift. She gently stroked the little animal’s soft shiny fur and smiled, pleased that her long-time companion was alive and would be well again. Then she turned her attention to the portal.

She was surprised to see shadows in the texture of the light similar to those she remembered the first time she had formed a portal to Se’Treya. Did Erin also know that forbidding place? A closer examination showed her that the shadows formed a view of the ruined Hohdan temple from where she had so recently returned. Then a larger shadow loomed in the portal and Erin appeared, bumping into her as he entered the chamber. ‘Sorry,’ he said, grabbing Meg’s arms to balance himself. As he released her and stepped away, the portal dissolved.

‘Where did you go?’ she asked.

His expression became sheepish. ‘I just stepped out.’

‘To the temple,’ she noted. ‘Why?’

‘Some matters that needed addressing.’

‘What?’

‘It’s all done,’ he said and headed for Whisper. ‘How is Swift?’

‘She’s sleeping,’ Meg said. ‘I wasn’t sure I could save her, but she’s strong. What did you do?’

‘I healed my sister’s spirit,’ he replied.

‘I mean at the temple,’ Meg insisted, her green eyes warning him not to lie.

He shifted nervously under her determined gaze, and dropped his dark eyes to the table and the sleeping rat. ‘The soldiers no longer pose a threat to you.’

‘Why?’ She guessed at what he had dared to do, but wanted to hear it from his own lips.

Sudden defiance flashed in his eyes. ‘My sister is all I have,’ he said, ‘and they nearly killed her.’

‘It still doesn’t justify killing them,’ Meg declared, anger rippling through her words.

Erin stared, his eyes wide, then he started to laugh.

‘Why are you laughing?’ Meg asked. She grabbed his grey vest and turned him towards her. ‘What have you done?’ she demanded.

He caught his breath. ‘I didn’t kill anyone.’

She stared, puzzled. ‘Then what?’

‘I made an old Ashuak dragon attack them. It burned their flying vessel and chased them south, out of the city.’

Meg’s jaw dropped. ‘You did
what
?’

Her astonishment made Erin break into laughter again. ‘You should have seen them,’ he chortled. ‘They stood stock-still, staring up at the dragon as if they couldn’t believe their senses. Then, when it made its first pass and set their flying machine alight, they panicked and scattered into the ruins and vegetation. I really had to concentrate to drive them all in the same
direction. Casting fireballs and keeping the illusion operating was difficult, but the effect was amazing! They ran so hard, falling and leaping over stones, screaming whenever a fireball set the bushes alight. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re still running.’

Meg continued to stare at the elated young man, struggling to make sense of his weird tale. ‘You called a dragon?’ she asked.

He grinned. ‘I
conjured
a dragon,’ he corrected. ‘Real dragons were wiped out three centuries ago by Alwyn, but I’ve read so much about them that it was easy to reconstruct an image, and the soldiers weren’t interested in testing whether or not what they were seeing was real. The fire was real. That was enough for them.’

‘You can do several spells at the same time?’ she asked.

‘So can you,’ he said. ‘You have the amber. There are no limits to your power.’

‘But how did you learn all this?’

‘Books, Meg.’ He spun, arms extended. ‘All of these books. Every spell ever cast in history is recorded somewhere in this library. I’ve read all its contents. Do you know the Elvenaar and the ancient Andrakians believed there were special words for conjuring spells? And the Ranu Ithosen prayed to a god. The shaman magicians in the ancient Ukesu lands used to gather chemicals and gems and items and mix them together to generate spells. But they were all misguided! Spells come from the will combined with amber to amplify it. That’s all it takes, plus some understanding of the nature of the spell required—and imagination!’

‘Making you a Dragonlord,’ Meg murmured, recalling A Ahmud Ki’s observations.

Erin’s smile faded. ‘Dragonlord. Yes. I know that terminology. It was the title given to a family of Alfyn brothers who wanted to become more powerful than
anyone of their kind. They deliberately embedded chunks of the Genesis Stone in their bodies so they could generate magic at will, and they used it to wage war on their own kind until only they survived. Or at least that was what they were led to believe. The Alfyn who escaped the attempted genocide went to the east, where they remained until Alwyn’s coming.’

‘And then?’

‘They lured the dragons into a portal to another place and vanished.’

‘So there could still be dragons somewhere?’

Erin shrugged. ‘It’s possible.’

‘Where did the dragons come from?’

‘The Dragonlords created them. They took the flying lizards of ancient times and embedded each one with a sliver of amber, bestowing magical powers on them. They became dragons. The Dragonlords domesticated them for their own uses; as a magical construct, a dragon was almost unstoppable. That’s why the Elvenaar helped Abreotan create the sword—to combat the dragons as well as the Dragonlords. It took a magical weapon to defeat a magical being.’

‘I’ve read some of this,’ Meg said, ‘but I never realised it was so closely intertwined.’

‘When you’ve read every book written, you realise that history is like a thick web. What seems disparate and happening far off in another place and time still resonates with where you are. Everything is linked, either in space, time, experience or concept.’ Erin shook his head and sat on a stool near the table where Whisper slept, resting his chin on his fists. Despair crept into his voice as he muttered, ‘I never wanted this power. No person should have it. The Genesis Stones should never have fallen.’

‘What did you say?’ Meg asked.

Erin lifted his head. ‘What?’

‘You said “stones”.’

For an instant Erin’s expression was blank, then he answered. ‘Yes, I did. It’s true. More than one stone fell. The most ancient writings record the falling of stars in many places. Some scribes would have seen the same star falling, but others would have seen different ones. There was definitely more than one Genesis Stone. One was buried deep in Jaru’s Garden, a forest far to the south of here. Another must have landed in the Elvenaar forests of the place that became Andrakis. There could have been more scattered all over our world.’

Meg sat down beside him. ‘Thank you for chasing the soldiers away,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry for accusing you of—’

‘Killing?’ He snorted. ‘I wanted to kill them. When I’d healed Whisper, I wanted to slaughter the men who dared to attack my sister’s spirit. I felt my hatred surge and knew I had the power to wipe them from the face of the earth. And that feeling scared me. After you returned with Swift, I decided to clean up what you’d left behind. But when I stepped through the portal I knew I couldn’t kill them. I’ve read
Jaru’s Gift
too many times. The greatest gift we can give to one another is forgiveness, and the cruellest act we can commit is to forsake ourselves. I chose another way—the same way I’ve followed since I chose to lock the secrets of magic away from the outside world.’

She put an arm over his shoulder. ‘Then you did well. I wasn’t as strong. I killed at least one despite promising myself that I would not let my magic cause death like it always has in the past.’

He looked at her and shook his head. ‘It’s not your fault. Alwyn was a man of great peace and wisdom and even he could not stay the hand of death from those who came seeking it. Men choose their destinies. I
chose my path a long time ago and I do not regret what I have done. You are choosing yours—or perhaps it is choosing you. If everything you’ve told me of these men you call Seers is true, then they are infected with the same evil as the Khvechevik and the Hohdan priests and the Dragonlords—the evil of men who seek to impose their will on the lives of all others. You are the only one who can stand between them and the evil they inflict. You have been chosen by the amber and so you are the one who must decide what to do with it. If men of evil come seeking death, you are not responsible for their fate.’

Meg gazed into Erin’s dark eyes, recognising that she was staring into the depths of an intellect that had spent more than three centuries studying the secrets of magic, the histories of generations of races, the philosophical arguments of great minds, and the complex web of intrigue, hopes, dreams and actions of kings and queens, heroes and villains, priests, soldiers, workers and paupers. That he had chosen to keep his treasury of knowledge magically hidden inside the ruins of the Khvech Daas library under the rubble of the once mighty city of Chuekwer, capital of Ashuak, impressed her. That he was urging her to use her amber magic in the outer world, when he had chosen the opposite pathway, puzzled her. But he had made it very clear that it was her choice how to use her power, and she felt herself bound by circumstance to act against the Seers. How and where she should and would act were unanswered questions. When was now. She had run from her fate for almost fifty years and the circumstances had only worsened. There was no more sense in running.

W
hisper scampered across the white tiles, leapt up onto the stone bookshelf and trotted along the ragged line of books until she reached a black leather volume with gold inlaid lettering. She sniffed the text and scratched at the leather.

‘I can’t believe she knows which book is which,’ said Chase as he headed for the shelf.

‘That’s because you keep thinking of her as a rat,’ said Erin from his black chair.

Chase retrieved the book and carried it to him. ‘I don’t mean to be disrespectful to your sister,’ he said. ‘It’s just—’

‘Weird,’ said Erin. ‘I know. I’ve had to ponder the consequences of my impetuous action many times since. Sometimes that’s just how life drives us.’

He opened the volume Chase handed him and scanned its pages and diagrams.

‘What language is that?’ Chase asked.

‘Targan. The women were the practitioners of magic in that society. They were each presented with an amber ring when they began learning magic, but they never equated the amber with their ability. They assumed that women had greater intellect than men, but it was the
tradition of passing the ring from mother to daughter that gave them power, not their sex.’

‘So what are you looking for in this book?’

‘As much information as we can learn about the sword. Sooner or later, if Meg is going to fight the Demon Horsemen, she will need the sword.’

‘Meg? Fight the Demon Horsemen?’ Chase blurted. ‘How could she?’

‘The sword will give her greater powers.’

‘But surely she’d need to know how to use a sword?’

Erin looked up and blinked. ‘Perhaps.’

‘What do you mean, perhaps?’

‘Well, it is possible the sword empowers its wielder with the ability to wield it.’

‘Is that what the books tell you?’

Erin paused before he replied. ‘No.’

Chase waited for further explanation but none came; Erin simply returned to reading. Chase shrugged and left, walking along the dim stone corridors to the chamber where Meg was watching over Swift. The old woman looked up as he entered. ‘How is she?’ he asked. ‘Any change?’

Meg shook her head. ‘She’s breathing freely, and the wounds and scars are gone. She should be awake.’

‘Then what’s wrong?’

‘I’m not sure. All we can do is be patient. She’s been on a very harsh journey.’

Chase gazed at his half-sister’s sleeping form. Her red hair, normally cropped short, had grown considerably since they had departed from Port of Joy. ‘How long is it since we left?’ he asked. ‘I know we took forty or more days to get here, and we’ve been down here—what? Ten or more days?’

Meg shook her head. ‘Time moves far more slowly in a magical place like this than it does in the outside world.’

‘Why?’

‘It just does. Part of its magic. Erin has lived here for more than three hundred years.’

Chase raised an eyebrow. ‘He doesn’t look much older than Wahim.’

‘In a way he isn’t. The amber has preserved him in time. While the world outside races by, down here everything stays the same—or at least it changes very little.’

‘So how long have we been out of the world?’ asked Chase, puzzled.

‘I don’t know,’ said Meg. ‘Don’t be surprised if we’ve lost more than ten days outside.’

‘How much more?’

Meg shrugged. ‘It could be a cycle, perhaps longer.’

A frantic expression passed across his face. ‘But Passion? Jon? We can’t be away too long.’

Meg stroked Chase’s arm gently. ‘Swift will wake when she’s ready. Then we can leave.’

So many times she had dreamed of standing on a battlement with others beside her. She never saw the faces of those closest to her, but now she had a feeling she knew exactly who was there. Fate had brought her together with her grandchildren, the children of her lost son, Treasure. Swift’s and Passion’s red hair; the likeness to Button Tailor, her long-dead husband, in Chase’s features—the evidence was accumulating. The familiar people beside her on the battlement, waiting for the Demon Horsemen, were her grandchildren. For the first time in years, the dream brought a strange calm and reassurance.

There was a new dream as well. In this one, she faced A Ahmud Ki. She had stopped dreaming of him a couple of years after they had parted in Andrak—he to go to Se’Treya in search of his lost power; she to seek her daughter, Emma, and obscurity in the town of Marella—but now he reappeared and pervaded
her dreams. Her last memory of him was as a slim, distinguished, silver-haired man in an Andrak suit, but in the dream he was dressed in white and even more handsome than she remembered. He was staring at her with serious grey eyes, his face set grimly, his focus on her knife. Even though she had no desire to act, against her will her hand rose and she stabbed him in the heart. Yet, oddly, he did not falter as she buried the blade in his chest. He stared silently at her and a smile graced his soft lips. He said something, words she could not decipher, and she was overcome with remorse. And she woke, sweating and saddened.

Swift was awake. Chase brought Meg the news. ‘She doesn’t remember anything,’ he said as he led Meg along the corridor, his voice echoing off the stone. ‘She seems fine otherwise.’

As they entered the chamber, Wahim nodded and Erin smiled. Swift, wrapped in a light blue sheet, was crouching to scratch Whisper under her chin. She straightened, her green eyes meeting Meg’s gaze as the older woman approached to enfold her in her arms.

‘How do you feel?’ Meg asked as they parted.

‘Like I’ve had the best sleep ever,’ Swift replied. ‘You saved my life.’

‘You’d do the same,’ Meg said quietly.

‘I don’t remember anything except the very beginning when they were shooting at me.’

‘That could be a good thing.’ Meg looked at Swift keenly, wondering whether the young woman was fully healed.

‘Is she well enough to go?’ Chase asked eagerly.

Meg turned to him and spoke curtly. ‘I will see.’ But her feigned annoyance only made the others laugh and she smiled too. ‘I’m certain she’s well enough to travel,’ she announced.

‘I’ll get my things,’ Chase said, grinning.

‘You didn’t bring anything,’ Wahim teased and the group laughed again.

Meg turned back to Swift and embraced the young woman once more. Before they left, there was something she had to share with Chase and Swift, and she was unsure of how they would take the news.

The party was ready to leave, their possessions packed for the return to the outside world, and they gathered in the library’s central chamber. ‘I…’ Meg began, and hesitated. Everyone looked at her. ‘I want a few moments with Swift and Chase,’ she said, her resolution returning. Wahim and Erin nodded, and quietly withdrew from the chamber, while Whisper sat attentively at Meg’s feet. Meg drew a breath and studied the faces of the young woman and man before her. She knew she was right. The evidence was undeniable. She cleared her throat softly and said, ‘Before we go back, I have to tell you something. It’s something I’ve already hinted at, and I know you probably think I’m mad, but it’s important to me and I hope it becomes important to you.’

‘This is about you being our grandmother, isn’t it?’ Swift said.

The young woman’s bluntness startled Meg.
So she has listened to me
, she thought. ‘Yes,’ she said.

‘How do you know?’

There was an edge of bitterness in Swift’s question and Meg’s uncertainty threatened to return, but she was determined to resolve the matter, especially as she’d nearly lost Swift to the Kerwyn soldiers. ‘I know it’s all circumstantial, but the evidence is strong.’ She turned to Chase. ‘Your father—he called himself Trez, short for Treasure, didn’t he?’

Chase nodded, watching her intently. ‘My son’s name was Treasure. I named him after…’ She paused,
memories at the edge of her reason. ‘I named him after one of the old Shessian princes.’

‘Anyone could have done that,’ said Swift.

Meg nodded. ‘But Treasure wasn’t a common name. It wasn’t popular.’

‘Why not?’ asked Chase.

Again the past crowded into her mind, the guilty pleasures, the secrets she’d kept under control for a lifetime. She met Chase’s questioning eyes and it was as if Button was asking her to share her past. ‘Treasure Overbrook was the illegitimate child of Queen Sunset. He tried to help the Seers take the throne but they were defeated.’

‘And what happened to him?’

The truth was more terrible than a lie, she decided. ‘He was killed in battle.’ She expected them to accept her lie because the past was long before their world came into being, but the expression on Swift’s face was utterly unexpected. ‘What?’ Meg asked.

‘You killed him.’

Swift’s accusation cut through her like a sword. The images of the suppressed past swamped her and she gasped as if the air had suddenly been sucked from the chamber.

‘You want us to believe that you are Lady Amber and our grandmother,’ Swift continued, her aggravation rampant in her voice. ‘You’re telling us that we are the grandchildren of legends and ballads.’

Swift’s mocking tone angered Meg. ‘I’m telling you that you are
my
grandchildren,’ she replied. ‘I lost my son, Treasure, to the Kerwyn when they invaded our country. They murdered my husband and my other boys, but they stole away my daughter, Emma, and Treasure, and sold them into slavery.’ The outburst of the past, conveyed in her sudden anger, overwhelmed her and she wobbled on her feet, reaching for the wall
to steady herself. Chase took her arm, his gesture immediately soothing her.

‘Where did they send your children?’ Swift asked.

Meg looked at the young woman and realised that what Swift wanted was answers to make the whole moment comprehensible. ‘They were meant to go to Andrak, across the oceans. They sent Emma. But they didn’t send Treasure. He was bought by someone in Westport and taken to Port of Joy.’

‘How do you know that?’

Meg stared at Swift, seeing her own defiant green eyes in her granddaughter’s gaze. ‘I followed. I found Emma in Andrak, but not Treasure.’

‘And where’s Emma?’

Meg shook her head. It was too much. She hadn’t anticipated everything that was going to be asked, hadn’t prepared for the past being so insistent on the present. ‘Emma…’ she started, stopped, and finished with, ‘Emma is dead.’ A tear escaped and slid down her cheek.

Chase squeezed her arm and crooned, ‘Sorry.’ Meg put her free hand on his and forced a smile.

‘But how do you know Treasure was left behind? How do you know he was our father?’ Swift asked.

‘Leave her alone,’ Chase said. Meg’s heart warmed at his defence of her.

Swift glared at him. ‘She wants us to know. And I want to know.’ She looked at Meg.

‘I don’t know for certain, except for what I see.’ She wiped her cheek and stared at Chase. ‘You are just like my husband, Button. The eyes. The face.’ She turned to Swift. ‘And you. And Passion. It’s grey and white now, but I had red hair. Beautiful red hair. And my eyes are green like yours. And it’s too coincidental that your father was named Treasure and you don’t know much about him. You’ve never met your grandparents
because they were never around. There are too many coincidences not to make sense.’

‘So why tell us now? Why didn’t you say something earlier?’

‘I did,’ Meg protested. ‘You just didn’t want to listen.’

‘Because it was crazy,’ said Swift.

‘But it makes sense now,’ said Chase.

‘I nearly lost you,’ Meg went on. ‘I don’t want to lose you.’ She maintained her gaze on the young woman. ‘What happens after this will be more dangerous than what we’ve been through so far. I don’t expect you to stay involved, but I don’t want to go from here without knowing the truth and without you knowing the truth. Look around you. This is a place made entirely of magic. You’ve seen what I can do. You’ve seen who I am. I carry the amber in me, a legacy I have tried to escape all my life until now. I’ve lost people I love, family, because of it and because of who I am. Now you’re caught up in it as well and I know you are my grandchildren. Whatever fate or destiny has drawn us together, we are together and I’m grateful that I have found you. I couldn’t leave here without you knowing that.’

Swift kept staring. Then she said, ‘I found you,’ and smiled.

The unexpected comment touched Meg’s heart. She smiled. The moment of meeting on the rooftop and in the window of her bookshop was a strange moment, one she hadn’t encountered in her dreams. Who really had found who in that moment? ‘Yes, you did,’ she replied and chuckled contentedly. The warmth in Chase’s hand on her arm contrasted sharply with the distance between herself and Swift, but the link was there. She felt in the moment that it was strong, and it was all she could ask.

The portal glowed in the doorway, its blue light throwing shadows across the chamber’s endless bookshelves. Meg
faced the tiny assembly, her frizzy grey-white hair refusing to be constrained by the rough ponytail she had improvised. Swift, a little more feminine with her longer red hair, looked back at the old woman, her green eyes sharp and observant, the harsh angles of her face reflecting the bitterness of her life. Her lithe body, the province of her deadly assassin skills, was covered with a black shirt Erin had given her and a pair of tan pants that barely reached her ankles. Her own tunic and trousers had been destroyed during her brush with death. She adjusted her knife in her belt, preparing herself to step back into the world above. Chase stood beside her, rake thin, his cream tunic dirty, his black trousers ripped, his hair tousled, looking more like a street urchin than ever. The possibility that Swift and Chase were her grandchildren excited Meg; it gave her hope that her long-standing family tragedy could be corrected.

Towering over Swift and Chase was the Shesskar and former brothel guard Wahim, muscled, dark-skinned, his toothy smile an ever-present reminder of the gift of happiness that came to everyone. That all three had chosen to undertake the journey with her to Chuekwer still surprised her as much as it made her glad, and she wondered if they regretted their decision in the light of all that had unfolded. The journey to find the canvas bag that Seer Sunlight had stolen from his peers and entrusted to Chase to pass to the Kerwyn princes was only the beginning. Preventing the Seers from releasing the Demon Horsemen was a much greater challenge with even greater risk; she could not ask them to go further with her on that quest.