03 Sky Knight (19 page)

Citrine smiled wearily. ‘My sword was still red from slaying the emissary’s people, and now I turned that sword on my own friends. There were twelve men who had been a part of the murders, myself included, and when it was over, only I remained. I had killed eleven good people to hide the terrible secret of what the lord had done. But my job was only partially complete. There were so many other things I had to do. And I did them. I did them for her.’ He wiped his eyes. ‘I bound Citrine, stripped him of his official clothes, and locked him in the dungeon at Flint Lock Fort. I confided in just one man, who I trusted with my life, and gave him orders that no other person should be allowed into the dungeon, or to speak with the prisoner. And as for the poor princess and her entourage... I loaded them into a cart like slaughtered pigs, and drove them across the border. I made it look like mercenaries.’

Obsidian shook his head in disbelief. ‘This is an incredible story, but even if it’s true, it doesn’t explain why you look the way you do.’

‘Lady Citrine needed to hide the absence of the lord. She had a spell, magic words written on a piece of paper. She asked me if I would be willing to change my appearance, my life. For her, I would have done anything. So I became Lord Citrine, in a way, but I have never had to make any decisions. It is Lady Citrine who rules these lands.’

‘Then, you really aren’t Lord Citrine?’

‘After a while, I started to believe it myself. Looking at this face every day, sitting by her side. I even believed that one day she might grow to love me as I love her. It was too easy to buy into the deception. But then Crow came back, and it became apparent that while I could look like a lord, I did not have the character to act like one. The men have been asking me what my plan is, asking how I intend to unite the last of the free people against Crow, and the answer is, I just don’t know.’

For a long time Obsidian was silent, sitting beside the man who to everyone else was Lord Citrine, but to him was a murderous impostor who could ruin them all. Eventually he got to his feet and said, ‘We have lots to do, My Lord.’

‘Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said?’ Citrine snapped.

‘I have listened, yes. And I have listened alone. I am the only one who knows the truth of your real identity, and I think it may be best if that’s the way it stays. If I should die, then this secret should die with me.’

‘But why?’

‘Look around you, My Lord.’ Obsidian gestured towards the ruins, and the villagers huddled together around their fires. They were wrapped in blankets for warmth, talking quietly, making plans for when the war was over, living in a bubble of hope that could pop at any second. ‘These people have had almost everything taken from them in just a few short days. But you are the great Lord Citrine, ruler of these realms, and head of state at Crystal Shine, the most magnificent city in all the southlands. You represent what we are fighting for, and what we hope to see again in our lifetimes. Do not take that from them as well.’

‘I’m just a soldier.’

‘You were a soldier. Now you are Lord Citrine.’ Without another word, Obsidian headed back to the ruins.

Citrine watched the captain leave. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword, and he raised his head high. He was not a lord, he knew that now; but he was a soldier. Once, he had been a good soldier.

Today, he would die like one.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Nimbus drifted in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he felt as if he was floating, as though his spirit self had finally climbed out of his body and was travelling up through the clouds on invisible air currents. Other times, he felt the full weight of his muscles and skin and bones, dragging him down into the earth like he was anchored to the very centre of the world. It was a peculiar and disorientating sensation, and he could only assume there was some kind of struggle within him, between flesh and spirit; a combat that left him physically and mentally drained, and uncertain even of whether he was alive or dead.

Up into the air, down into the dirt; body and mind torn apart and then thrust together again.

Memories, dreams, reality. All the same. All different.

Was he whole? Was he in pieces? Was he a wraith, wandering the lonely world, forever separated from his physical form?

Was he nothing at all?

There were so many questions jostling for his attention. So many disturbing possibilities.

And then a voice: faint, but getting louder.

Nimbus opened his eyes. He was still kneeling on the beach, and the spirit sword was still in front of him. When he looked into the cold, smooth surface of that blade, two eyes still looked back at him; but they were no longer the reflection of his own.

‘You,’ he muttered.

The eyes in the sword blinked, and then seemed to draw closer. A vague humanoid shape emerged from the blade to crouch beside him. ‘You don’t look too good,’ the vampyr said, toothily. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Strange,’ Nimbus said. ‘It was just a scratch.’

‘It was. It was. But a scratch from my sword. And that means your spirit is mine now.’

‘You aren’t really here. You’re just in my head.’

‘No. I’m not here, but the sword is. The sword is a part of me. I am its master. If it tastes blood, I taste blood. It has severed the tie between your body and your spirit, which I should imagine is rather confusing for you right now as normally that only happens once you’re dead. You’ll be feeling a little odd, like you’re in different places at once. Or perhaps like you are nowhere at all. But that’s what you get for playing with spirit swords.’ The image of the vampyr shimmered, and his cape swirled around him as he moved in and out of Nimbus’s field of vision. ‘But now I have quite a predicament on my hands.’

‘Sorry to be a pain.’

‘Now I have an opportunity to devour your spirit, and in turn grow stronger from it. I could acquire all of your knowledge, and all of your skills... what few skills you have. It is tempting, believe me. But on the other hand, I could drag your spirit back into your body, and I know you know how that works. I could give you another crack of the whip, so to speak. Another chance to take this sword and slit Crow’s throat. So, what do I do?’

‘I’m a zombie. I’ve got no chance of getting any nearer to Crow than you have.’

‘True, true. Which doesn’t exactly strengthen your case.’ The vampyr’s form phased in and out of existence, fluttering and twisting and darting about like a black rag on a washing line; almost as if he was trying to keep up with an ever–moving prey. ‘But we had a deal, you and I. I gave you the tools to perform a job, and you said you would use them. By the terms of our agreement, I suppose I have a certain responsibility to make sure you stay alive at least long enough to give it a go. Besides, it’s a little bit late in the day to start finding a replacement.’

‘So, you’re going to let me live?’

‘Wait here.’

The vampyr swirled away into smoke, and suddenly Nimbus was overcome with the sickening feeling of plummeting from somewhere high above himself. He felt the sand beneath him, and the wind on his face, and he was moving and still at the same time; and then it was as though he was being smashed between two rocks, and he burst from the inside out, and he was lying sprawled on the beach, coughing and choking for breath as the waves rolled up to meet him.

Beside his right hand, the spirit sword glimmered in the sunlight, and for a second there were two almond–shaped eyes reflected in the blade. Then there was nothing at all.

***

Silver never expected to live after his battle with the spider–soldiers. The wounds he had suffered were deadly, and if it had been necessary for him to walk to find aid then surely he would have died right there on the side of the road. Luckily, he had Onyx to carry him; and while the loyal horse travelled through the Forbidden Woods, Silver slept uneasily in the saddle, dreaming of things he had tried for a long time to forget.

Dreaming of a girl...

‘Will you come with me?’ she asked, brushing strands of hair away from his face.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I am a soldier. I have to be here. If I can work my way up through the ranks, I can afford to marry you. Then your parents will approve of me.’

‘They approve of you anyway.’

‘Well then, maybe I do not approve of myself.’

Brown leaves crunched beneath his feet.

There were brown leaves in the garden.

‘I am going. There is a new life for me and my family in the city. I cannot wait for you. If you do not come with me, then our engagement will end.’

Silver turned away from her beautiful face, her imploring eyes. In the distance, children were laughing. ‘Then it ends,’ he said.

And it ends...

‘Private Silver?’ There was a quiet but commanding voice, piercing the bubble of his dream. ‘Private?’

He woke with a start, a cry of despair caught in his throat, a seizure of pain ripping through his ribcage. With a groan, he flopped sideways out of the saddle, hitting the ground with a crunch.

‘Private Silver, what’s wrong?’ Glass asked, crouching over the soldier as he convulsed violently, his eyes staring wildly, his hands grasping for something that wasn’t there.

‘It is my fault,’ Moon said, who was sitting by a fire under the shelter of some moss–covered stones. ‘He was dreaming, his unconscious mind laid bare. The pain he feels when he is close to me would have been magnified greatly. It would have been more than a memory.’

‘Will he be okay?’ Glass asked, touching Silver’s forehead.

Light snorted, threw aside the remains of a rabbit he had been chewing, and padded over to take a look. He sniffed Silver’s neck, then licked the back of his hand.

Gradually, Silver stopped writhing, and his ragged breathing became more regular.

‘Give him a few minutes to wake up,’ Light said. ‘His mental walls will rebuild themselves, and he’ll be good as new. He probably won’t even remember what he was dreaming about. Humans hardly ever do.’ He padded around the soldier, nudging him with his snout. ‘He’s badly hurt though. He’s lost quite a bit of blood.’

Moon rose gracefully, and walked over. Before she had got within twenty paces of Silver, sweat sprang up on his forehead, and his eyes blurred with tears. Moon ignored his discomfort, and held her palm above his chest. She did not touch him, but she could still feel all his misery and desires flowing into her fingers.

‘What are you doing?’ Glass asked, ripping off the arm of her dress and using it to wrap the soldier’s wound.

‘Just wait,’ Light said.

Glass felt a comforting breath on the back of her neck, and she knew Reflection had approached to see what was happening. She touched the unicorn’s shimmering flank, and where her skin made contact she lost all sense of what was her and what was Reflection. It was all the same. She could hardly imagine now what life would be without that sense of companionship. The loss of the unicorn would be like the loss of her own heart.

Eventually, Moon seemed to come to a decision and backed away again. ‘He’s strong. He wants to live. If we stop the bleeding, and keep him warm, he may survive.’

‘Can’t you magic him better?’

‘It’s not our place to say who lives and who dies. Every person should get to choose for themselves. Besides, that kind of magic is beyond me. It may even be beyond you.’

‘But Cumulo fixed Nimbus. Nimbus was dead. Proper dead. But Cumulo breathed on him, and he was better again.’

Moon nodded understandingly. ‘Dragons never were ones for playing by the rules. Come on, let’s move your friend over to the fire, and we will see what we can do.’

For the next hour, Glass busied herself wrapping injuries, covering the shivering soldier with blankets, mopping his brow, forcing water and a bit of stew into his mouth, and doing whatever else she could to make sure he was as comfortable as possible. Only then did she take the time to sit beside Moon and Light, with Reflection grazing close by, and ask the question that had been bothering her.

‘When you said dragons don’t play by the rules, what did you mean? What rules?’

‘There are always rules, Glass. For everything. And there are rules for magic. It’s not right to bring someone back from the dead when they don’t want to come, and it’s not right to keep someone alive if they want to die. Not by magic, anyway. That was the problem with the magic war. All the rules got forgotten. Something as powerful as magic has got to have rules, otherwise it gets out of control.’

‘But if someone’s dead, how are you supposed to know if they want to be alive again?’

‘You ask them. If you’re strong enough, and you concentrate hard enough, you can talk to the dead. And if you listen carefully enough, and watch for the signs, sometimes they talk back.’

‘I think I spoke to Nimbus when he was sort of dead. He had breathed in some poison and wasn’t awake, and somehow I made him hear what I was thinking.’

‘Very powerful magic users have that gift, but it has never really mattered in the past, as very few people have ever had the power to successfully raise a person from the dead. It has been done. I know that Crow has pulled spirits back into our world. But it is not an easy thing to reunite the two parts of a person once they have been separated, and nobody has ever raised someone who has then gone on to lead a normal life. There are always... complications.’

‘But I told you, Cumulo did it. And Nimbus was fine afterwards. He’s just like normal.’

‘Not quite.’ Moon looked into the flickering heart of the fire, where blue interweaved with yellow and red in a mesmerising dance. ‘And dragons are different. They feel things differently. Perhaps they know much that is hidden even from me.’

Light shuffled closer, laying his head on Glass’s lap. She stroked his nose. ‘Do you think I could bring someone back? I mean, if I can talk to them, and ask them. And if they wanted to come back. Do you think I could do it?’

‘I don’t know. I could not, but you are the most powerful magic user I have ever met, and I am not certain if it is even beyond your power to put out the sun. But if you could, I would not advise you do it. Just look at Crow, and the foul thing he has become. You are a creature of light, and in the light is where you should stay.’