The Demon Horsemen (38 page)

She glanced at A Ahmud Ki and saw wonder and fear in his face and knew that he was consumed with painful memories of another time. Or was he seeing the immediate future?

A
s A Ahmud Ki had promised, in the late afternoon an elderly swordsmith came to the castle, bringing a mould, metal and his specialist equipment in a horse-drawn wagon. A Ahmud Ki directed the man to the throne room and told him where to set up. Then he left the chamber, saying, ‘I’m going to make sure no one comes up here uninvited.’

Meg followed him into the foyer where she stopped him. ‘Are you serious about…about reforging the sword?’

He looked at her as if he didn’t understand her question, then said, ‘I have the easy part in all this. It’s you that has to make sure Inheritor gets it right. If he fails, there is no more world.’

‘But if you do this, there’ll be no more world for you.’

He chuckled. ‘Who knows? Perhaps your Seers were right about a paradise. I’ve heard plenty of religious men promise it to the masses. Who’s to say that they haven’t been hoaxing us—that there actually is a paradise or something better after we die? Now, there’s a lot to do and not a lot of time left. Do you know how to make a glyph?’

‘Not really,’ she said. ‘But I remember the intricacies of the one Mareg used to keep you imprisoned.’

‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’m going to create one that locks intruders out of the castle. My guess is that when news of what we’ve done reaches the appropriate authorities, there’ll be Ranu troops up here. But you have to do something for me while I’m constructing it. I need to know how far from here the Horsemen are and from which direction they’re likely to come. Take bird form. Make it something fast, like a falcon. Fly east and find out where the Horsemen are and what kind of pattern of movement they’re following. Will you do that?’

‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘But it might be three or four days before I return.’

‘I expected that.’

‘What will you do while I’m away?’

‘Guide the swordsmith. He needs to know the exact process the Elvenaar used to create Abreotan’s sword.’

‘You know it?’

‘I memorised it from the
Book of Lore
. I knew by then that the sword was the only answer.’ He laughed. ‘I still had to try though.’

‘Try what?’

‘I confronted the Horsemen after I left the library,’ he admitted. ‘Erin’s gift of the amber made me confident I could take over Mareg’s role and order them back to Se’Treya.’ He looked down and shook his head, then lifted his gaze. ‘They killed Mareg. Did you know?’

‘No.’

‘The Horsemen told me before they tried to kill me. That’s why I ended up back here—I escaped through a portal.’ He took her hand. ‘If I’d known where you were…’ He left the statement unfinished.

‘It wouldn’t have changed what’s happened,’ she said, looking into his grey eyes. She took her hand out of his, self-conscious that he was a handsome young
half-Aelendyell and she was a white-haired woman in her sixties. She noticed his momentary disappointment.

‘Can you do something for me while I’m gone?’ she asked.

‘What?’

‘Somehow, I don’t know how, you have to convince the Ranu to evacuate the city. If you can get them to leave before the Horsemen arrive, we might just save a few more lives.’

He nodded. ‘I have an idea. I have to think it through a little more yet, but it should work. I’ll tell you when you get back.’

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. As he straightened he said, ‘If you want to be young again, you only have to think it.’ He winked and walked jauntily away.

How can you be so happy when you know you have to die?
she wondered as she watched him disappear into the castle. She looked down at her hands, studying the age-mottled skin, the wrinkles, the dryness.
I can be young
, she told herself and considered conjuring her youth from the amber. Then she smiled at her vanity and focussed inward.

A Kerwyn magpie climbed into the late afternoon sky and flew east, towards the Ureykeyu Mountains. Anyone watching the black and white bird would have been fascinated by its phenomenal flying speed.

Meg relished the wind in her face as the green landscape raced below, but even enveloped in magic she was wary of flying too fast for her fragile magpie body. Realising that these mountains rose higher than those separating the old Kerwyn kingdom from Shesskar-sharel, she added a warming spell to her aura and headed away from the sunset. Her mind was full of the day’s events, not least A Ahmud Ki’s unexpected return
and strange acceptance of his fate. She wanted to know exactly what had transpired in the old Khvech Daas library to make Erin sacrifice himself and his sister and hand over the amber to A Ahmud Ki. Surely, in his self-imposed exile, Erin was safe from the Horsemen. Or had he known that eventually they would find his solitary paradise and destroy it and him as easily as they were reducing everything in the mortal realm to dust?

Neither could she fathom the dramatic change in A Ahmud Ki. From what she had read, and what she had observed in their time together, even with the love she felt for him, she recognised an element in him that could not be trusted, driven as it was by a lust for power. She wanted to believe that the old records, the writings of the Andrakian drycraefter and King Dylan and a host of others, that documented his treachery were exaggerated, biased against him, wrong, but she also knew they must have been grounded in some fact. Now that his magical power was restored, it seemed utterly incongruous for him to relinquish it so meekly, so willingly. And yet that was what she had seen and heard that afternoon: a changed person willing to sacrifice himself to save others.

She wanted him to be what he seemed to have become. But she didn’t want him to die. Not now.

His instructions passed on to Inheritor, Chase, Cutter and the others, and the outer castle wrapped in a warding spell designed to prevent access from outside, A Ahmud Ki stood on the remaining portion of the western wall to watch the sun flatten and melt against the peaks of the Great Dylan Ranges. Years before, when he rode into Lightsword as the conquering Ranu president, he had taken the time to come to the castle and stand on this ancient wall to survey the land that he
had known a thousand years before. Much had changed and yet much was also the same. The old plains of Ky, once sparsely populated with farms, were dotted with towns and villages, and the mountains that were called the Andrakians were now the Great Dylan Ranges. More people, different names, but the same land. He imagined he could hear the voices of the Aelendyell and Elvenaar spirits in the soft breeze, whispering the secrets he’d sought after so passionately in his youth. Ghosts. His world was populated with them.
He
was a ghost.

He conjured a tiny light sphere, willing it to change through the colours of the rainbow as he stared at it. And made it vanish. With a wave of his hand, he could obliterate the city directly below him. He could call down a thunderstorm or conjure enough light to outshine the wire-lightning globes winking into life along the wider streets. He could give life and he could take it away. He was A Ahmud Ki, the seeker of power, as his name was translated in Ranu, successor to the immortal Dragonlords. ‘Where are you now, Mareg?’ he whispered to the air.

The western sky bled from the bruised clouds to the mountain peaks and gold darkened to amber, and amber deepened to vermilion. Birds flocked to their roosts against the bloody backdrop.
I am full of blood
, he thought and a bitter smile formed on his lips.
Half-Aelendyell
. ‘I cursed that part of my blood,’ he murmured. ‘I took revenge on it.’ He laughed.
Now it takes revenge on me
.

He sank to sit cross-legged on the parapet, his back against the stone, turned to the east. Stars already glittered in the higher reaches; in an hour or so the moon would rise. He’d forgotten just how beautiful the world could be. Not that he’d been too busy to see it; he’d had many quiet moments. It was just that he’d
never seen it before through the eyes of someone looking at it for the last time.

Suspended in time for a thousand years in Mareg’s prison had made him understand just how brief and precious life was, but when Meg released him he had resented being taught that lesson. After all, he was A Ahmud Ki, destined for greatness. Mortality was the least of his concerns. Coming to terms with the loss of his magic, learning that the rules for magic had all been misguided, realising that his release from Se’Treya came with the burden of growing older—all these sudden and unwanted lessons threatened him. He admitted now that his return to Se’Treya when he could have stayed with Meg had been another desperate attempt to escape ordinariness. If chance hadn’t led him back to Yul Ithrandyr and the pathway to the Ranu empire presidency, what would he have done?
I wouldn’t be here
, he decided.

He was distracted by a noise and gazed southward. A white dragon egg, glowing with lights, was rising from the city. It was already level with the castle wall, although still some distance from the plateau. He watched its nose turn towards the castle and heard its drivers pick up speed.
Which official have they sent?
he wondered as the machine lumbered towards him.
Surely they’ve already discovered the glyph at the bottom of the road?

He concentrated, and an instant later was on the southern wall. He checked that no one was advancing up the road. Not that anyone could with the glyph in place, he reminded himself, but he was cautious nevertheless. He contemplated what to do. The approaching dragon egg may simply be a deputation from the government demanding an explanation of the strange stunt he was operating. Or it may be full of soldiers sent to arrest him and his companions. He
smiled.
Perhaps it’s time the Ranu learned about their history
, he decided, and opened the upper section of the glyph to allow the dragon egg to enter. Then he levitated to the ground and went to advise the others of the Ranu’s arrival.

A Ahmud Ki resumed his appearance as the former Ranu president in order to greet the dragon egg contingent. He was mildly surprised to see the regional military general emerge from the carriage rather than a politician. He was less surprised when the general was followed by thirty soldiers who took positions in a semicircle facing him, their peacemakers pointed at him.

‘Is this an appropriate greeting for your former president?’ he challenged.

The general signalled to the soldiers to lower their weapons. Then he approached and saluted. ‘I am—’

‘General Ashek Shavez,’ A Ahmud Ki interrupted. ‘You were appointed as general of the Central Andrak region six years ago in recognition of your service to the republic as a commander in the Stepping Stones campaign. I personally signed your papers.’ The general blinked, lost for words. ‘And your purpose here is?’ A Ahmud Ki asked.

‘I’ve been ordered to place the Kerwyn refugees under arrest,’ Shavez replied. He hesitated before adding, ‘And yourself.’

‘And if we resist?’

Shavez blinked again. ‘I’ve been authorised to use force as needed.’

A Ahmud Ki smiled. ‘The Kerwyn are no longer here.’

Shavez met A Ahmud Ki’s steady gaze and shifted his left foot nervously. ‘I know that to be incorrect, sir. Observers have reported seeing the Kerwyn at positions along the walls of this castle throughout the day.’

‘Let me put it another way,’ said A Ahmud Ki. ‘I’m giving you the opportunity to return with a clean report to whichever official sent you. You can tell them I am here, but that the Kerwyn are gone.’

‘Sir, are you resisting arrest?’

A Ahmud Ki subtly twisted his right hand, conjuring an old spell, as he replied, ‘I am.’

General Shavez signalled with his left hand and the soldiers took aim. ‘Sir, I order you to lie down on the ground.’

A Ahmud Ki’s smile broadened as he raised his right hand. Behind Shavez there was a rattle of weapons and a series of thuds.

‘I think your men misunderstood your order,’ A Ahmud Ki informed him.

The general turned his head to discover his soldiers slumped on the ground. His hand slipped to the peacemaker at his belt and he drew it, taking aim at A Ahmud Ki, but his anger melted into shock when the weapon suddenly glowed red with intense heat. Yelping, he dropped it and clutched his right hand with his left.

‘Get the crew out of the dragon egg,’ A Ahmud Ki ordered. When Shavez hesitated he snarled, ‘Now!’

Confused, still in pain, Shavez yelled to the crew to step out.

‘Everyone,’ A Ahmud Ki warned and Shavez repeated the instruction. Five men clambered out of the carriage.

‘Now watch,’ A Ahmud Ki told Shavez. The carriage door slammed shut of its own volition, the drivers roared to life and the lights switched on. As the moorings came away and the dragon egg lifted from the ground, its bewildered crew grabbed the trailing ropes to try to hold it down. Three were carried up into the air, until they let go and fell
heavily. Released, the dragon egg rose sharply and hovered three hundred spans overhead where it exploded in a golden ball of flame.

‘I think you understand why I’m not under your arrest,’ A Ahmud Ki said to the general as tiny golden embers from the dragon egg drifted around them. His face became serious. ‘I have a message for you to take back to the mayor and the citizens of Lightsword. Make sure they listen. I am not playing games. Do you understand me, General Shavez?’ The general nodded. ‘Good. Because your life and the lives of every citizen in Central Andrak will depend on how effective you are on getting this message understood.’

He took a slow breath to emphasise the gravity of his words. ‘Central Andrak must be evacuated. Go into Western Andrak. Don’t argue. Don’t delay. There is a storm coming that will obliterate everything; a storm like nothing you can possibly imagine. Anyone who stays here will die. The lands across the oceans to the east are already destroyed. I have seen it. I know what will happen here.’

He read the general’s ashen face and was satisfied the man understood.

‘When I awaken your men, take them out the main gate and down the road. I will open the glyph to let you pass, but after that no one can come to the castle.’