The Demon Horsemen (19 page)

‘I’m sorry,’ he said and shrugged.

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘It was circumstance.’

He stepped back to his stool and sat, his gaze intent on her. ‘But in all this to-ing and fro-ing about the bag you haven’t answered an important question. How do you know what’s in it?’

‘I knew Sunlight,’ she replied, ‘the Seer who was incarcerated in the Bog Pit for all those years. He told me about the canvas bag before he stole it from his colleagues. I thought he was crazy back then. Now I know better.’

‘You believe these stories about the Horsemen and this ancient weapon?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can the Seers use the sword?’

‘I doubt they will be able to get the hilt out of the bag,’ she said. ‘And if they did, they don’t have the necessary knowledge or…’ She paused, considering her next words. ‘Or the craftsmanship to reconstruct the original blade.’

‘There are plenty of steel- and ironmongers in Port of Joy,’ Inheritor reminded her.

‘Not with the skill needed to make this blade.’ She rose from her seat before Inheritor could pursue the matter, saying, ‘I promised my great-grandchildren that I would watch them play. Thank you for listening to a silly old woman with even sillier ideas.’

Inheritor also rose, nodded to Cutter, and walked Meg to the doorway where Chase and Swift waited. As she took her leave, the king touched her arm. ‘I don’t mean to be rude,’ he said, ‘but I have a feeling that you haven’t been totally honest with me.’

Meg met his dark-eyed gaze. At first the words were unwilling to come, then she replied awkwardly, ‘You’re perceptive and I apologise, but I don’t intend you any treachery and I’m not meaning to be disrespectful. When the time is right, I will tell you what you should know. For now, I’ve said all I can.’

To her surprise and relief, Inheritor smiled graciously and bowed his head, letting her leave without pursuing the matter.

‘So?’ Swift queried as the three walked away from the king’s hut.

‘So what?’ Meg replied.

‘What will you do now?’

Meg continued several paces in silence, then said, ‘I’ll get the bag from the Seers before they can cause any more damage.’

W
ord paced the room, unable to suppress his agitation. He stopped to adjust his light blue robe, and wondered why it felt so uncomfortable on him. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
I have no reason to be afraid
, he told himself.
I have been a faithful servant
. Yet he was unconvinced and stalked the meeting chamber again, waiting for his colleagues.

Law and Creator entered first and bowed to him. ‘Have you heard anything?’ Law asked.

Word shook his head and motioned for them to take their places at the table, just as Newday appeared in the doorway. ‘Come in,’ Word invited, and the youngest Seer moved to a chair. Pelican and Moon arrived a moment later and sat too. The chair at the head of the table where Scripture normally sat remained vacant.

With his five peers at the table, Word made the holy sign and clutched the back of his chair. ‘I don’t know what I want to say,’ he began, and cleared his throat. ‘I—we—are in a very different time.’ He glanced at the empty chair. ‘We have seen the awesome might of Jarudha.’

‘Praise to Jarudha,’ the Seers intoned.

Word stared at them, their automatic response filling him with a surge of reassurance.
We are the Chosen
, he reminded himself.

‘Prayer and Scripture have been taken up,’ he said. ‘We witnessed this.’ The memory of the blinding light enveloping Scripture made him shiver with fear and awe. ‘We have opened the door, and with our own sacrifice we can call upon the might of the Horsemen to cleanse this world.’

He spoke as he thought Scripture would have spoken, but the words felt hollow in his mouth. He studied his colleagues to see if they heard the guilt in his voice, but they showed no sign of recognising his falsity. They were embracing the rapture of the Last Days.

‘I am at a loss as to what to do next,’ he admitted.

‘Jarudha will guide you, Your Eminence,’ Law responded.

Law’s comment incensed him. ‘No!’ he snapped. ‘I am not His Eminence. That is a title I will not bear.’

His outburst shocked his companions. They looked at each other and, tentatively, Creator asked, ‘But who will replace Scripture as His Eminence if not you?’

‘There will be no replacement,’ Word replied, his anger calming. ‘We are brothers. That is how it was always meant to be. None of us is above the others. From here on, we think and act as one, together. No one will be called His Eminence. No one except Jarudha is worthy to be followed.’

The silence after his short speech startled him. Then the other five Seers stood, made the holy circle and said in unison, ‘Jarudha be praised.’

‘You have been truly blessed,’ Creator offered. ‘He shines through your wisdom.’

‘Sit,’ Word ordered, but amended it to a request by adding ‘please’. As they resumed their seats, he also sat and it was as if a great weight was lifted from him. He
wiped the perspiration from his brow, smiled at his colleagues and said, ‘So, we can expect the Ranu to come to Port of Joy.’

‘How long will it be?’ Moon asked.

‘I’ve heard that they have an invention they call a farspeaker,’ said Creator. ‘It enables them to talk to each other over great distances. If they already know what happened on the island, then they will be here within days.’

‘And we will be prepared for them,’ said Law. ‘The Horsemen must be called again.’

‘No!’ Word said. The Seers turned in alarm to him and he swallowed before repeating ‘No’ with less venom. ‘The Horsemen must be treated with respect, not summoned for petty matters.’ The others nodded agreement, which made Word relax a little. ‘We will use other methods first. The Horsemen can only be called when there is no alternative remaining. We must obey this because of our pact with them. Each time we call upon them, one of us will be taken up to serve Jarudha. Scripture made that agreement when we met them in their lair. That is why he was taken up on the island. We cannot use them lightly. When next we call them, if we need to before the Last Days come, one of us must be taken from this existence. Understand that this is the pact.’

He searched his colleagues for the same fear he felt, but all he saw were faces filled with hope at the prospect of being chosen.
Why am I so afraid when my brethren are so filled with faith?
he silently lamented.
They would willingly go, but I am afraid. Why, Jarudha, am I so weak?

‘Does this mean we will help the king to defend the city against the Ranu?’ asked Law.

‘Yes,’ Word replied, glad to have the focus of the meeting changed to more earthly concerns. ‘Shadow has
been a good disciple. He will need everything we can provide.’

‘The new airbirds have been built,’ Creator reported. ‘I am fitting star-reachers to them, but we may not have enough time to fully test their efficacy before the Ranu arrive.’

‘Do what you can,’ Word advised.

‘And the rest of us?’ Newday asked. ‘What can we do?’

‘That is why I’ve called this meeting,’ Word said. ‘We need to decide what each of us can offer to Shadow to ensure the Ranu do not invade our sacred land or interfere with our preparation for the Last Days.’

Meg studied the fresh portal. If her memory served her well, it opened into the Seers’ temple, in a curved corridor a short distance from the meeting room. It was the first place she had been taken to be interviewed as a candidate for Seer training almost fifty years previously. Her interrogators back then had been Seers Diamond, Light, Vale and Onyx; they were all long dead. Her last true encounter with a Seer had been on the dock in Westport the fateful night she and A Ahmud Ki had escaped Western Shess together. That was more than thirty years ago.

She shook her loose green smock into a more comfortable position as she looked for Whisper, and spotted the bush rat, almost invisible in the moonlight shadows, squatting at the edge of the tiny clearing, relieving herself. The full moon shone like a huge pearl in the clear night sky, reminding Meg of the summer nights she had spent as a teenager in the hills above Summerbrook. She wondered what the village looked like after so many years—whether or not it still existed. It would be so easy to go back, to look for the past, to search for reassurance in what had once been
daily familiarity, but Summerbrook was filled with ghosts—Button, Jon, her mother and her brothers, old Emma. It was a place of bitter-sweet memories. Going back would only reignite her sorrow and a sense of hopelessness. She was here and this was the brink of the future. ‘Whatever the future is going to be,’ she murmured.

She gazed across the valley to the solitary light still glowing in the bushmen’s settlement. Everyone, except those on guard or hunting, was securely underground in the maze of tunnels and chambers, settling down to sleep or talking quietly of the day’s events. Her grandchildren were safe there. If she told them what she was doing, they would insist on coming with her, but this was a task she had to do alone. Against the Seers, her magic was the only certainty. Swift’s assassin’s methods would be too crude and Chase would be a liability. If she could retrieve the sword hilt, they would have a tool to bargain for peace with the Seers. And if they still could not see reason to stop their destructive quest to bring on the Last Days, she would find a way to use the sword against the Demon Horsemen. There had to be a way.

‘Whisper,’ she called and walked into the light.

The corridor was different from how she remembered it. Where it had formerly been illuminated by lanterns it was now lit with wire-lightning bulbs and brighter than she wished. She blinked before she realised that two acolytes in yellow robes were standing in the corridor staring at her. One raised his hand and made the sign of the circle.

Meg smiled and said, ‘I am a messenger sent from Jarudha,’ a foolish comment that caught the acolytes off-guard. Before they could respond, she held her open hand before their startled faces and focussed on a spell
to erase their memories. ‘This moment you will forget,’ she told them. ‘You will not remember me.’ She paused to see if they were registering her intentions, but they stared blankly through her. ‘You will reawaken when you hear another voice.’

She crept past the mesmerised young men, her memories crowding in of when she herself had entered the Order as an acolyte, her rich and beautiful red hair shaved and wearing the Jarudhan yellow robe. She was already pregnant then with her first-born boy, the legacy of her tryst with the bastard rebel prince, Treasure Overbrook. She was so young, so naive, so trusting, that Queen Sunset used her as a pawn in her political game with the Seers and as a military weapon against her legitimate son, Future Royal. The outcomes of those events cost Meg dearly.

When she reached the large wooden doors that opened into the inner sanctum, the main hall of the temple, she listened for noises that would betray the presence of others, but the temple was silent. She had expected silence but still it unnerved her. Warily, she pushed on a door until she could see into the circular room with its pillars supporting the domed ceiling—and stared in astonishment at her discovery. Glowing between two pillars was an unmistakeable portal guarded by three acolytes. The portal’s presence threw her plans into disarray. She hadn’t expected the Seers to have such ability. Only someone using the amber could generate a portal. What had changed? Or had the Seers obtained a gem?
Erin said that there were only two remaining
.

Her heart raced and she leaned against the stone, its cool, rough texture pressed against her arm.
And where does the portal go?
she wondered. She was about to risk a closer look when she was distracted by faint sounds.

Whisper scampered around the curve in the corridor.
Coming
, the rat projected and an image of men in blue robes formed in Meg’s mind.
Hide
.

Meg followed the rat, moving silently on her bare feet across the cold, smooth stone tiles until Whisper stopped outside a door and announced,
No one
. Meg tried the handle, found it unlocked, and entered with Whisper at her feet.

Inside, she waited in darkness. When the corridor remained silent she risked creating a tiny light sphere, just enough to ascertain the chamber’s dimensions and contents. It was austere, with a single plank bed against a windowless wall and the holy circle etched into the stone above the bed head—a Seer’s chamber, apparently unused.

The Seers could fashion portals. The discovery niggled at her, warning her that much more had happened than she had predicted in the time since her last encounter with the Jarudhan disciples. More than ever, she needed to find the sword hilt. If Inheritor’s word was reliable, then the canvas bag was locked away in the temple somewhere. She had to find it.

She doused her magic sphere and listened at the door. Satisfied no one was in the corridor, she eased the door open and peered out. Whisper slid through the gap and sat up on her haunches, sniffing, and projected an image of the Seers standing beside the portal in the main hall.

How am I going to do this?
Meg pondered. One option was to appear before the Seers and bluff them with her potency. It was a dramatic, aggressive approach, but it might be enough to frighten them into handing over the canvas bag.
Unlikely
, she conceded. First she had to isolate and deal with the leader, the Seer who went by the title of His Eminence—Scripture. She hadn’t met the man, but in her time as Batty Booker she’d heard of him. He was the key.

Coming
, Whisper warned and scampered along the corridor away from the main hall’s entrance. Meg assessed the situation. There was nowhere to hide. Remembering how she used to camouflage herself while hunting animals in the bush around Summerbrook as a teenager, she pressed against the stone wall and imagined herself blending into it. It was a spell she’d never tried so the risk was great. If it didn’t work, she would be forced to adopt the first option—confrontation.

Several men in light blue Seer robes appeared in the corridor, talking quickly, all deferring to one man at the centre who waved them away dismissively. As the group fragmented, most of the men heading away from Meg’s hiding place, the individual she assumed to be Scripture began a conversation with his remaining white-haired colleague. The two men strolled past her, neither noticing her. When they were almost out of sight around the curve of the corridor, she disengaged from the wall and crept after them, aware that Whisper was slinking along the base of the wall like a tiny shadow.

The Seers halted outside a door like the one to the chamber she’d been in earlier. With their sky blue robes, their long white hair and beards, they looked like twins. She amplified her hearing to eavesdrop on their conversation.

‘Once the Ranu have seen the airbirds, what will they do?’ one man was asking.

‘I don’t know,’ the other Seer replied. ‘They might see that our invention exceeds theirs and withdraw.’

The first shook his head. ‘I doubt that. The Ranu president is used to winning battles. At best the airbirds and your star-reachers will give us time. Our future is in Shadow’s hands.’

‘There are always—’

‘No!’ the second interrupted, holding up his hand. ‘Don’t speak of them.’

The first man lowered his head, prompting the second to put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Creator, my brother, you are Jarudha’s true disciple. What you have done with your Blessing has been miraculous. You have found answers to the problems that perplexed our predecessors for generations. Now it is time to do what you can to stop the Ranu from interfering. If Jarudha is kind, He will ensure that what you have invented will be enough. If He decides there are more trials ahead for us, then we will face them as we have always faced them.’

Creator lifted his head and made a holy circle before the other man. ‘I have a poor Blessing,’ he said quietly. ‘It is you who are truly blessed of all of us.’ He turned and walked to the next door in the corridor and entered his chamber. The remaining Seer stared after his colleague for a short time before he also opened his door and withdrew from the corridor.