The Demon Horsemen (37 page)

‘I meant how did you get here?’

‘The same way you did,’ he replied, ‘only I hadn’t expected you to be here either.’ He acknowledged Inheritor and Cutter. ‘How did you explain your sudden arrival to the authorities?’

‘We didn’t,’ said Inheritor. ‘In fact, we tried to blend in, until some local citizens reported us to the peacekeepers.’

‘There are thirty of us,’ Cutter explained. ‘It’s hard to hide a sudden influx of thirty foreigners, even in a city as big and strange as this one.’

‘When they came to arrest us we tried to explain why we were here,’ Meg said.

‘But they didn’t believe you,’ A Ahmud Ki added. ‘They accused you of setting up an invasion. I got a quick summary from your friendly interrogator, Yazik Neman.’

‘Who just issued us with the death penalty,’ said Inheritor.

‘Efficient,’ A Ahmud Ki remarked. He stood. ‘We have to leave now and move quickly. I’ve told Yazik
that my military force is moving secretly to intercept the approaching enemy force and so he is not to reveal to anyone that I am back in Ranu Ka Shehaala. I’ve explained that you are trustworthy people and that I will take you with me. However, if Yazik is as officious as he should be, he will already be checking out the credibility of my story.’

‘But you’re the president,’ said Inheritor.

A Ahmud Ki glanced at Meg, realising she had kept his secret from her friends. ‘Was,’ he admitted. ‘A new one has been elected. I’m on the outer again. That’s why we have to move quickly. Do you still have the sword hilt?’

‘They took our belongings when they arrested us, but we hid the bag under some rubble,’ said Inheritor.

‘I added a hide spell to the rubble,’ Meg explained.

A Ahmud Ki nodded approvingly. ‘Clever. We’ll retrieve it as we gather everyone together.’

‘Where are we going?’ Cutter asked.

‘Ask questions later. We have to go now.’

Meg waited for her companions to leave the room before she approached A Ahmud Ki. She felt the energy between them increase as she got closer. ‘You’ve changed,’ she remarked.

‘We have a lot to do,’ he replied without acknowledging her observation. ‘And very little time to do it in.’

M
eg sat in the rear seat of the motor wagon beside A Ahmud Ki and watched the city drift by. Lightsword had changed significantly since she’d left it with Captain Marlin more than thirty years before. The buildings were taller, the sky was dirtier with industrial smoke, the streets were cluttered with motorised wagons and paved with stones, there seemed to be more people and it was so much noisier than she remembered. She looked over her shoulder and saw the cavalcade of seven more vehicles carrying the refugees from Summerbrook. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked above the wagon’s rattle and putter.

‘Up there.’ A Ahmud Ki pointed towards the ruined castle on the plateau above the city.

‘Why there?’

‘You’ll see,’ he answered and squeezed her hand.

There were so many questions she needed answers to. ‘Where’s Whisper?’ she asked. His grey eyes revealed that he wasn’t willing to answer that just yet. She nodded to show she understood and asked instead, ‘How long do you think we have?’

‘Before the Horsemen come?’

She shook her head. ‘Until your people realise what you’ve done.’

He smiled. ‘Two or three days at most. Perhaps just one. The bureaucracy can be painfully slow when you want something dealt with, but when there’s any kind of scandal they move far too quickly.’

‘Scandal?’

‘I’m the
former
president, remember?’

‘But even as the former president, surely you still have some influence?’

He shook his head. ‘Two problems,’ he said, holding onto the door as the driver made a sharp turn onto the road that led up to the castle ruins. ‘First, I’m a political liability for the new president. There’s nothing he’d enjoy more than to bring me to trial for the years of war I promoted.’

‘That doesn’t make sense,’ she argued. ‘You were the elected president. The people supported your policies, didn’t they?’

He laughed. ‘Of course. But democratic politics are always about now; the past must be cleansed of all wrong. The people voted for me to lead them to war, but now they want to be forgiven and that makes me expendable. If I’m sacrificed on the public altar, the state is absolved of its past sins.’

‘And the other problem?’

‘I’ve returned without an army,’ he explained. ‘Either I’ve deserted or I’ve lost twenty thousand men, a fleet of ships and an enormous quantity of equipment.’

‘Oh,’ she muttered. ‘I understand.’

‘So, like you, I don’t have anywhere safe to go, even without the Horsemen.’

He smiled wryly and looked across the city that was sinking beneath them as their wagon puttered up the narrow winding road towards the old castle gates. He gave off an uneasy tension, as palpable as the flow of
magic she felt about him, and she guessed his secret. He had an amber gem. Its presence resonated with her amber. What frightened her was guessing at how he’d acquired it. Had he stolen it from Erin in a last desperate chance to be restored to his former Dragonlord glory? Or worse? Was he a bigger threat to her than the Horsemen or was he really helping? She studied his face, searching for a clue, some sign of reassurance, but he was as enigmatic now as he had been when she first rescued him from the cruel prison in Se’Treya.

Their vehicle stopped alongside several others belonging to visitors in the paved parking area outside the castle gates. A Ahmud Ki, impressive in his white presidential suit, climbed down from the wagon and strolled towards the gatekeeper’s office. The Ranu soldiers on duty saluted when they recognised the former president, but A Ahmud Ki ignored them and spoke directly to the gatekeeper. ‘Who is in charge here?’

‘Mister Keeth,’ the man replied.

‘Is he here?’

‘Who’s asking?’ the gatekeeper challenged.

A Ahmud Ki smiled. ‘Tell Mister Keeth that President Ki wishes to speak to him.’

Understanding dawned in the gatekeeper’s chubby face. ‘I’m sorry, President Ki, I didn’t recognise you.’

‘Just fetch Keeth,’ A Ahmud Ki ordered.

Meg approached him as the gatekeeper left. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

‘Emptying the castle,’ A Ahmud Ki replied. ‘Even an ex-president has some authority with ordinary people.’

‘Why have you brought us here?’

‘Look,’ he said, extending his arm to take in the panoramic vista. ‘You can see in every direction—to the Great Dylan Ranges in the west, the Ureykeyu to
the east, the Dragon Peaks to the north and the Great Southern Ocean to the south. The old kings who built this place knew what they were doing. Whichever direction the Horsemen come from, we will see them well before they get here.’

‘And then what?’ she asked. ‘What did you learn from Erin?’

His expression became solemn. ‘More than I can tell you right now.’

‘You found another answer?’

He shook his head, but before he could explain the gatekeeper returned with the castle manager.

‘My apologies, President Ki,’ Keeth said, bowing his head politely.

‘None needed,’ A Ahmud Ki replied. ‘I have a very important favour to ask.’

‘Anything,’ Keeth said.

A Ahmud Ki smiled. ‘I need the castle evacuated immediately.’

Chase, Wahim, Trackmarker and Runner were given the task of keeping watch for anyone coming up the road from the city; Passion, Ella and Crystal organised the Summerbrook villagers and children to set up sleeping quarters in the ruins, while Cutter took Hunter and three volunteers to scour the castle for provisions and water.

A Ahmud Ki called a private meeting with Inheritor and Meg, insisting that Inheritor bring the canvas bag. He led them to the locked doors of the old throne room. ‘With your permission,’ he said, ‘I thought we’d meet in here.’

He waved his hands before the huge, rusted locks on the doors and they and the chains they held fell apart. Another wave made the doors creak open, the rusted hinges protesting loudly after being unused for untold
years. A Ahmud Ki stepped into the dark, musty interior and created a light sphere which he levitated towards the ceiling. ‘Come into my past,’ he invited.

The old throne room was a square space, its walls and ceiling intact despite the passage of time. Meg noticed as she entered that the great doors were scarred by fire and weapons—legacies of past lootings and wars. The interior was depressing—grey stone walls, grey floor, grey ceiling. Towards the rear five steps led up to a platform. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she discerned doors outlined in the walls.

‘I redecorated this once,’ said A Ahmud Ki, his voice echoing in the large chamber. ‘There was a throne on that dais for the king, sculpted in the form of a dragon.’ He spun on his heel, his arms gesticulating. ‘The doors there were covered with gold. Purple and gold banners hung from the walls, and the floors and walls were faced with white marble. Andrakis’s Golden Warriors protected the king.’

Inheritor looked at Meg, his face puzzled. A Ahmud Ki saw Inheritor’s expression and approached the Kerwyn king.

‘You’re confused, aren’t you?’ he said, glancing down to see that Inheritor had the canvas bag. ‘Meg hasn’t told you all my secrets.’ He bowed. ‘Allow me to present myself.’

His hands worked an intricate pattern and light surrounded his body. When the light dissolved, A Ahmud Ki was young again, his long Aelendyell silver braided hair restored, his white suit transformed into a flowing black robe. He smiled at Inheritor and announced, ‘I am A Ahmud Ki, former chancellor of King Andrakis, inheritor of the Dragonlords.’

Inheritor’s mouth opened in astonishment but no sound came out. Meg, too, stared, stung by her memories of the naked being she had found pinned to
the black dragon statue and her uncertain fear at choosing to release him.

‘You took Erin’s amber,’ she accused him.

A Ahmud Ki turned. ‘No,’ he corrected quietly. ‘He gave it to me.’

She wanted to believe his answer, but her fear warned her that the person she faced was no longer the helpless being she had rescued but the creature she had rescued him from.

‘I know you don’t believe me,’ he said, disappointment in his voice, ‘and I understand. You know more about me than anyone else and I have been painted in an uncharitable way. I can’t deny that because the stories are true—in the main.’

He sighed and walked to the foot of the steps where he stared up at something on the dais. ‘I’ve arranged for the best swordsmith in Lightsword to come here this afternoon,’ he said. ‘He’s an old man, and his craft is out of favour now that peacemakers are plentiful and more deadly than swords, but he can still make a better sword than anyone in the empire.’ He faced Inheritor and Meg. ‘I employed him whenever a ceremonial sword was needed by the government. He’s a true craftsman, and he’s bringing a mould and the metal to reforge Abreotan’s blade.’

‘There’s no kiln,’ said Inheritor.

A Ahmud Ki smiled grimly. ‘You don’t need a kiln when you have magic. Meg can fire the metal.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Meg. ‘I thought you said you could find another answer.’

‘There is no other answer,’ A Ahmud Ki replied.

‘But,’ she began, and then, realising she did not want to voice the answer to her question, she hesitated.

‘I am half-Aelendyell,’ said A Ahmud Ki.

Inheritor gasped. ‘You have the blood ingredient.’

‘Yes.’ A Ahmud Ki fished in a pocket of his black
robe and pulled out a thin amber bracelet. ‘And I have this.’

‘What is that?’

‘The key to the sword. The person who wields Abreotan’s sword must also wear this.’

‘Where did you find that?’ Meg asked.

‘I didn’t find it,’ A Ahmud Ki told her. ‘Erin created it.’

‘He had another sliver of amber?’ she asked. ‘But I thought—’ and again she stopped, the answer suddenly clear to her. Shock crept along her nerves and she looked at A Ahmud Ki. He met her gaze and she saw the truth in his eyes. ‘Whisper,’ she said.

‘But who will use the sword against the Demon Horsemen?’ Inheritor asked. ‘If you give your blood—’

‘I can’t use the sword,’ A Ahmud Ki cut in. ‘The Elvenaar constructed it so that no magical creature could wield it.’

‘Why?’ asked Inheritor.

‘To ensure it would never be used by a Dragonlord,’ said Meg steadily, still staring at A Ahmud Ki.

‘Then it’s you,’ said Inheritor, looking towards Meg. ‘You’re the—’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Meg said, glaring at him. ‘I’m not a warrior. I wouldn’t last a moment trying to fight a Horseman.’

‘But
you
will,’ A Ahmud Ki said, walking towards Inheritor. ‘You’re trained for this.’

‘Me?’ Inheritor gasped. ‘How? I don’t know anything about magic.’

‘You’ll learn,’ said A Ahmud Ki, then he turned to Meg. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘This isn’t my choice to make. Erin said you would know who should bear the sword.’

Meg nodded. ‘There is no one more suited.’

‘Put the bag down,’ A Ahmud Ki instructed Inheritor, and held the bracelet out to him. Inheritor looked at it
warily, then at Meg, and again at A Ahmud Ki. ‘Take it,’ A Ahmud Ki coaxed.

Inheritor lowered the canvas bag to the floor and accepted the bracelet, testing its weight in his hand, surprised by its lightness.

‘It won’t hurt,’ said A Ahmud Ki. ‘Put it on your sword wrist.’

Inheritor slid the bracelet over his hand and onto his wrist. The amber glowed with inner light and vanished. ‘Where did it go?’ Inheritor asked, startled, searching his wrist with the fingers of his left hand.

‘It is now part of you,’ A Ahmud Ki explained.

‘Why?’

‘To imbue you with enough magic to bear the sword.’

‘I don’t feel any different,’ Inheritor said, still exploring his wrist.

‘The bracelet allows you to channel the sword’s energies with your mind,’ said A Ahmud Ki. ‘To all intents and purposes, no one would ever know you were able to use the sword.’ He chuckled at a memory from the distant past. ‘In another time and place you would have surprised even me.’

‘This is ridiculous,’ Inheritor argued. ‘You’re asking me to fight the Demon Horsemen.’

‘There’s no one else,’ said Meg.

‘There are thousands of warriors in Ranu Ka Shehaala,’ Inheritor disputed. ‘Why didn’t you choose one of them?’

‘Too late,’ said A Ahmud Ki. ‘You’re the one with the bracelet.’ He grinned at Meg and asked, ‘Will you unlock the bag?’

His grin was disarming. The blood rose to her cheeks and she silently scolded herself for her reaction. ‘I think you should unlock it,’ she said.

He knelt before the beige canvas bag on the floor. ‘I
can unravel the locking spells, but I can’t touch what’s inside.’

‘I’ll open it once you’ve unlocked it,’ Meg offered.
How many years has it been since I found it in the Shessian museum
? she wondered, and her curiosity spiked in anticipation of finally seeing the legendary hilt.

A Ahmud Ki moved his hands above the bag. Partway through, conscious that Meg was watching his movements, he looked up and said, ‘Habit.’

Seeing Inheritor’s puzzled expression, Meg explained that A Ahmud Ki used the hand gestures because that was how he had first learnt magic. ‘But the magic actually comes from the psychic energy of the mind amplified through the amber,’ she finished.

‘You mean, if you think about what you want to happen, it happens?’ Inheritor asked.

‘Basically.’

‘It’s done,’ A Ahmud Ki announced, standing. ‘Open it up.’

‘You should open it,’ Meg said to Inheritor. ‘It’s your sword.’

‘No,’ Inheritor said. ‘You open it.’

Meg felt she should argue, but she had waited so long to see the bag’s contents that she simply bent to pull the padlock apart. She opened the bag and glimpsed the outline of a sword hilt. ‘It’s here,’ she said, and tipped the bag over, letting the hilt slide onto the floor. There was a clatter of metal greeting stone. She stared at the artefact with its heavy, solid grip, its amber colour and the cluster of amber gems, rubies, diamonds and emeralds embedded in its dragon-shaped pommel. It looked too big for a man to hold, the handle of a weapon of mythical proportion. Most of all, she could feel the magic radiating from it, an energy that was like heat, and
she knew that she could never touch the sword once it was made whole again.