The Demon Horsemen (24 page)

R
unner watched the red-coated, dust-covered soldiers marching through the streets and the terrified families packing their meagre possessions onto wagons. The chaos was a gift to a nimble thief. Pushing through crowds, pressed against people who were carrying everything they owned of value, he was gathering a small fortune as his hands deftly slid in and out of pockets and bags. The imminent Ranu invasion was proving lucrative, but the trick was to get enough booty and get out of the city before it really became dangerous. So far it seemed the Ranu were intent only on bombarding the palace, but if the rumour that their shells would start raining on the city next was true he wasn’t going to push his luck. He was entrepreneurial but he wasn’t stupid. The moment the Ranu turned their attention from the palace, he would be heading into the countryside like everyone else.

He was crossing a market square in the Farmers Quarter when he heard the steady thump of explosions coming from an unexpected direction. He turned his head to see a ball of fire and smoke rising above the rooftops, and spotted the elongated white dragon eggs moving low across the sky, heading towards the area
where he was foraging. The explosions were following the dragon eggs’ flight path. The few people in the square scattered, women screaming as they ushered children ahead of them. Runner too bolted for his life from the sky raiders, but as hard as he ran he could hear the explosions gaining on him. He rounded a corner to weave along a narrow alley, pushing past a terrified group of children huddled in a doorway and leaping over a semi-conscious euphoria addict lying on the ground. His lungs aching from running, when he broke into a wider street that ran due east towards the countryside he paused to catch his breath. Between the roar of explosions, he heard the steady whir of the dragon egg windwheels and the rhythm of the metal and steam drivers, then dived against a shop wall as a gigantic shadow enveloped him. Barely thirty paces away, the ground erupted, showering him with earth and stone and shattering the shop window. He clambered through the broken glass and scurried behind the green-painted wooden counter, huddling in fear as the world outside exploded in smoke and flame. The ground shook with each explosion as the dragon egg armada passed overhead and a ceiling beam broke loose and smashed into the counter top. Runner curled into a ball, his head tucked between his knees, and waited for the explosion that would end the nightmare for him.

Shadow stood silhouetted in the ruined temple doorway against a backdrop of smoke and flame, surrounded by a dozen armed and dust-covered soldiers. To Seer Word the king seemed a reincarnation of an ancient warrior astride the pillaged ruins of his enemies. Only the ruins were those of his own kingdom.

‘We’re getting out of here now!’ Shadow yelled. ‘The Ranu will be swarming through the city before
nightfall.’ A woman wrapped in a yellow shawl and cloak appeared beside him.

‘Where are your brothers?’ Word inquired, noting the woman with disdain.

Shadow snorted. ‘Lastchild is trying to save his terrible paintings and Gift is playing king.’

‘If you want to save them, bring them here. We’ll use a portal to escape.’

‘A what?’ Shadow flinched as an explosion echoed in the distance.

‘A Blessing Jarudha has bestowed upon us to ensure we are safe from the barbarian heathens,’ Word explained. ‘We step through it to wherever we choose. We don’t have to make a mad dash through the city and the crowds.’

‘Then let’s go,’ Shadow said, stepping through the doorway, his entourage following.

‘What about the princes?’

Shadow laughed. ‘They can look after themselves. We need to get out of this madhouse and get ready to fight the Ranu.’

Word followed the king along the shattered corridor, where light filtered through shell holes and huge cracks, to the temple hall. Finding the wooden doors ajar, one hanging precariously from its hinges, Shadow wheeled and demanded, ‘Where now?’

‘We’ve sheltered in the lower chambers, as you have,’ Word replied and indicated that the king should follow him further along the curved corridor. He cast another glance at the woman, but her identity eluded him. Nevertheless, her presence annoyed him because it showed that Shadow had strayed from the righteous path he was meant to follow.

Word led the king and his companions down two flights of stairs and through several underground chambers into a domed space where a blue glow
shimmered between two metal poles at its centre. Shadow stared at the light and then at the assembled Seers and acolytes. ‘His Eminence is not among us?’ he asked.

‘His Eminence is busy on other matters,’ Word told him in a tone that warned him to end the topic there. ‘This is the portal. It leads to the temple in Princestown on the Victory Plains.’

‘You really expect me to step into that light?’ Shadow asked. The ground rumbled overhead.

‘We are,’ Word said bluntly, and he nodded to the waiting acolytes. Silently, one by one, each yellow-robed man stepped into the blue haze and vanished. Seers Law, Creator, Moon, Newday and Pelican followed them. Word watched Shadow’s face, appreciating the awe etched on it. ‘Your turn,’ he offered as Pelican disappeared.

‘Blacksmith,’ Shadow said to the man leading his soldiers. The hordemaster saluted and led his men to the portal. With a grimace he stepped through, the soldiers dutifully following.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to bring your brothers?’ Word asked as the soldiers vanished.

‘After you,’ Shadow said, ushering Lin towards the portal. She gave him a reproachful glance, braced herself and stepped into the light. ‘My brothers can burn in the hells,’ Shadow told Word. The chamber shook.

‘Is the woman necessary?’ Word asked.

A faint smile eased along Shadow’s mouth. ‘Yes, she is.’

‘You are compromising your relationship with Jarudha.’

‘Am I to receive a sermon now?’ The chamber trembled again and a chunk of stone dropped from the ceiling.

‘You make your own pathway,’ Word stated as he turned to enter the portal.

‘You’ve forgotten an important matter.’ Word halted and looked at the king. ‘The Abomination,’ Shadow said. ‘What will become of her when the Ranu arrive?’

Word was speechless. Then he said, ‘We have to bring her with us.’

‘Or just kill her,’ Shadow said. ‘Like you should have let me kill her before.’

‘No. She’s too valuable.’

‘And how do you propose to get her?’ Shadow asked. ‘Got one of these linked to the Royal Gaol?’

Word’s heart sank. To create another portal he needed his brethren’s assistance and they were already gone. ‘We will create a new portal from Princestown and I’ll go immediately to fetch her. She can’t be left to the Ranu. She’s far too dangerous.’

‘My point exactly,’ Shadow murmured, but Word ignored the jibe and entered the portal. Shadow’s smile widened. He glanced at the chamber entrance where dust and smoke swirled in the torchlight. ‘Enjoy being king, little brother,’ he said, and entered the blue light.

Lastchild cried out as the stone stairway ahead collapsed and dust and smoke enveloped him. When he regained his breath from coughing, his ears still ringing from the deafening explosion, he realised that the only way to the ground floor was destroyed and the front wall of the palace was rubble. Beyond the palace wall, smoke rose from buildings throughout the Northern Quarter. His brothers and he had seen the approaching Ranu dragon eggs and had expected them to land and spread soldiers through the city. They hadn’t expected the dragon eggs to deliver thunderclaps from the air.

Lastchild set down the two paintings he was clutching to his chest and looked for his brothers through the ruins. They, like the servants and soldiers, were absent. He had no idea where Shadow was—the king had left in a hurry—but he suspected Gift was sitting on the throne. The palace’s marble entrance hall was a shell, but the steps to the main hall and the throne room were still intact. Gift had badgered Shadow to abandon the city and leave the throne to him, and that was exactly what Shadow had done when the soldier brought Warlord Fist’s warning to evacuate. Gift had given a cry of elation, had run for the throne room, and hadn’t emerged since.

None of that solved Lastchild’s problem. Stranded several spans above the ground, his precious artworks dusty and damaged, he needed help to escape. He scanned the palace gates and walls for soldiers, but it was abundantly evident that they had already made their escape. Hearing the approaching whistle of another Ranu shell, a sound he’d come to loathe during the siege, he braced for the shuddering explosion and noise.

Runner was glad to be out of the city. The lines of people on the eastward road stretched from the last buildings of the city outskirts to as far as he could see into the distance. Conscious of his booty of coins and jewellery stashed in small pouches beneath his ragged tunic and in his trouser legs, he scrutinised anyone who stared at him, looking for signs that they suspected him of thieving. But all he read in every face was tiredness and fear. Tempted as he was to collect more pickings, he let easy opportunities pass, suddenly feeling sorry for the victims of the siege. He no longer had the desire to profit from their misery. Perhaps it was the sadness in their faces, or their resignation at being forced to
evacuate, as though it was their fate to suffer. Or perhaps he was tired too and glad to have survived the dragon egg raid.

The crowd on the road thickened just before a steep rise marked by a cluster of tall gum trees and he wondered why there was a bottleneck. He pushed through a knot of people to find out what was slowing their progress, and saw an army spread across the plain. His first reaction was to consider escaping by another route, across country, until he overheard some men arguing.

‘I tell you, this is the real king’s army. I’m going to join them.’

‘Go ahead, you idiot. Might as well die in one army as in another.’

‘The Ranu won’t fight. They’ve got what they want.’

‘The Ranu want the whole world! Haven’t you been listening to the rumours?’

‘Then there’s no point just running, is there? Eh?’

‘There’s no point dying needlessly either.’

‘They say King Inheritor is leading this army.’

‘They say a lot of things.’

Runner relaxed, satisfied the army wasn’t a threat to him. As much as travelling the road meant sharing it with others, it also meant he had a ready supply of goods to draw upon whenever he got hungry. Going across country would be a lot harder and he recognised his limitations. Scavenging and stealing in a city he could do well; hunting and foraging in the country weren’t in his repertoire. He turned away from the sight of the army massed on the plain and trudged on.

Swift stood beside Wahim and Chase and watched the endless line of passing refugees—some on horseback or in carts; most walking, carrying their few possessions on their shoulders and backs. Mothers comforted little
children, older people hobbled along on walking sticks, men pulled loads and stopped to talk to other men.

‘I never imagined so many people lived in the city,’ Wahim remarked.

‘Apparently a lot have stayed there,’ Swift told him.

‘Why? The Ranu will take it over.’

‘Cutter says the Ranu don’t make war on the local population, only the army and the leaders. That’s why they’ve been so successful in other places.’

‘How does Cutter know that?’

‘Inheritor,’ Swift replied.

‘Would we be here now if Inheritor had been on the throne?’

Swift muttered, ‘Probably.’

‘I saw Rose and some familiar faces earlier,’ Wahim told her. ‘They’re heading for a town called Two Trees, about half a day further on.’ Then he grinned at her blank look and added, ‘I forgot. Chase and Passion knew them, not you.’

‘I didn’t visit brothels as a rule,’ Swift replied with a wry smile, ‘except on business.’

‘So Ella learned,’ Wahim said, and the pair laughed.

‘I was supposed to kill her,’ Swift admitted, ‘but she reminded me of Passion.’

‘Then she’s a lucky girl and Trackmarker will be forever indebted to you.’

The thought of how events had turned out for Ella brought another smile to Swift’s lips as she returned her gaze to the refugee parade. A brindle dog loped towards her, sniffed her leg and trotted on. A man glanced in her direction, his eyes following the dog, but Swift’s gaze was fixed on a gangly youth with a ragged dark grey tunic and long black hair. A faint awkwardness in his stride told her that he was carrying items hidden under his clothing. She also noted how he assessed the people around him, although he seemed reluctant to make eye
contact with the soldiers at the roadside. Perhaps because he didn’t expect to see her there, perhaps because he was intent on someone else, she was able to step into his path before he spotted her. Startled he tensed, ready to run—until recognition flickered across his dirt-smeared face.

‘What are you doing here?’ he challenged.

‘Waiting for you,’ she lied.

He scowled disbelief. ‘You couldn’t have known I was coming along here. That’s bullshit.’

‘True,’ she admitted, ‘but I’m glad to see you.’

‘I’m sure you are,’ he replied sarcastically, and went to walk past, but she blocked his way. ‘What do you want?’ he demanded.

‘I…’ She hesitated, unable to say what was on her tongue.

‘What?’ he snapped.

Anger rising, she answered, ‘I want my son to be my son.’

Runner snorted contemptuously. ‘You can have that when my mother is my mother.’

‘I am your mother.’

‘You’re some filthy bitch who keeps getting in my way,’ he said. ‘A mother looks after her kids. You don’t know how to do that.’

Swift glanced at a group of people staring at the scene as they passed, then had to take a sideways step to prevent Runner walking by her. ‘I’m not here to argue with you.’

‘Then what are you doing?’

‘I’m asking you to stay with me.’

‘Where?’

‘Here.’

Runner looked around and saw Wahim and a host of soldiers a few short paces off the road, watching him. ‘Are they with you?’