The Demon Horsemen (41 page)

‘Yes, she was,’ said Meg steadily.

‘How do you know?’ he screamed, tears breaking through his voice. ‘She wasn’t! Never!’

‘Your mother did the best that she could. It’s all any of us can do.’

‘No!’ Runner cried. ‘No!’ And he went limp.

Meg nodded to Chase and Wahim to release Runner, and she knelt to embrace the sobbing youth. To her surprise, he didn’t fight but sank into her, his body heaving with sorrow. ‘Let it go,’ she crooned. ‘Let all the anger and sadness go.’ She held Runner to her, feeling his pain and his mother’s pain, wondering how she could ever mend the damage between them.

The youth’s sobbing subsided. Then his body stiffened and he suddenly pushed away, scrambled to his feet and ran. He deftly evaded Chase’s lunge and bolted through the door.

Wahim and Chase went to go after him but Meg yelled, ‘No!’ They stopped in the doorway. ‘Let him go,’ she said.

They waited for an explanation, but she had none to offer. Instead, she closed the portal and silently left the courtyard.

T
he sunset over the Great Dylan Ranges was as beautiful as any she had ever seen, the sky melting in vermilion and gold and purple and endless shades of blue above the dark mountains tipped with white snow. Only two things marred the vision. People were still streaming westward on the roads out of Lightsword, dark rivers of desperation running for safety from the unknown horrors bearing down on them. And soft peals of distant thunder rippled out of the south.

All day the sky had remained a brilliant cloudless blue, even to the south where Meg expected to see the storm front forming, but the soft whisper of thunder periodically tainting the air reminded her of the inevitable. The sentinel dragon eggs still hung above the castle, the Ranu stubbornly determined to break down the resistance of the strangers and their former president.
I was that stubborn when I was young
, she pondered,
and that naive. Too late now
. Somewhere beyond the western mountains her family and their companions were gathered in the town where she had tried to escape her responsibilities a long time ago. Her daughter was buried there in the ashes of the past. If
she was ever to return, the Horsemen had to be stopped tomorrow.

The last light in the west glowed a strong, resilient amber all along the horizon.
A good sign
, she thought, and turned to descend as the amber was swallowed by the darkness.

Inheritor was in the courtyard with Cutter, talking. ‘Do you want some light?’ she asked.

‘No,’ Inheritor replied.

‘Is everything all right?’

‘Making my peace with Jarudha,’ he said.

‘I didn’t know you believed.’

‘You couldn’t escape the Seers in my family.’ He chuckled. ‘It was expected that all of us would be pious, but especially me. If I was to be king, I had to fulfil my responsibility to the religion of the state.’

‘I hadn’t realised,’ she admitted.

‘You don’t believe?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘It wasn’t part of my growing up. Some people in Summerbrook had religious faith, even my mother, but there were no Seers and no insistence on it. Besides, we had old Samuel who spoke about prophecies and other forces. I never even considered it until I went to Port of Joy. And all I saw there was religion being used to pervert things.’ She stopped. ‘I’m not being very clear, am I?’

‘I understand,’ Inheritor assured her. ‘I often wondered if Jarudha and the teachings of
The Word
were just pawns of the Seers’ ambitions.’

‘And?’

‘
The Word
existed long before the Seers.’

‘True,’ she said. ‘The Khvech Daas library was full of religious writings from centuries ago, before
The Word
existed too. Even Jarudha didn’t exist then.’

‘Oh,’ said Inheritor.

When she heard his disappointment she regretted sharing her knowledge. ‘He was called by different names.’

‘So they still spoke of a god?’

‘Yes. They always spoke of a god.’
Or gods
, she silently added. Chase’s appearance from the shadows gave her a timely exit from the uncomfortable conversation. ‘Where have you been?’ she asked her grandson.

‘Looking for Runner,’ Chase answered. ‘He’s found a good hiding place.’

‘He’s probably safer where he is,’ said Inheritor.

‘I think we need a fire,’ Cutter suggested.

‘Easy,’ said Meg.

‘No,’ Cutter said, walking towards the old throne room. ‘A real fire. Lend me some light, Meg.’

The crackling fire sent shadows dancing across the old stone walls, but its warmth and smell gave them comfort. Meg felt sorry for Wahim who was keeping solitary watch from the tower.

‘Those benches and that table had a use after all,’ said Cutter, extending his hands over the flames.

‘The table was a historical artefact,’ said Chase. ‘It came from the museum section.’

‘It’s history now,’ said Inheritor.

‘So will we be, tomorrow,’ Chase remarked, ‘whatever the outcome.’

‘If we lose, there’ll be no history,’ said Inheritor. ‘We need people to tell stories.’

‘Tell us a story now, Meg,’ Cutter invited. ‘You used to know some ballads.’

‘I can’t sing any more,’ she replied.

‘Then tell us a story about Lady Amber’s adventures, something real,’ Cutter coaxed.

‘Only if you tell one after me, about the warmaster’s adventures,’ she challenged.

‘Everyone has to tell a story,’ said Inheritor. ‘I want to hear how Chase got out of the Bog Pit.’

‘It wasn’t easy,’ Chase replied. ‘I had to die first.’

‘Then let’s hear that story first,’ said Inheritor.

She couldn’t remember falling asleep. The firm hand on her arm and the voice came from a deep well and she had to climb to the top to hear it properly. ‘They’re here, Meg. Wake up.’

She sat up, noting that the fire was only glowing embers. She’d expected dawn, but the sky was still lit brightly with stars.

‘Quick!’ Chase urged.

She rose and followed her grandson into the corridor and through to the next courtyard, then up the stairs to the parapet above the castle gates. Thunder rattled the stone. She emerged on the wall to find Inheritor and Cutter there, facing south. Lightning flickered through the darkness.

‘They’re here,’ Cutter said.

The air was still, so still that the noises of the Ranu army to the city’s south carried clearly to the plateau—voices, engines, dogs barking, metal clanking.

‘What time is it?’ Meg asked.

‘Nearing midnight,’ said Cutter.

Thunder rumbled. More lightning flashed, revealing the approaching storm front from east to west.

‘What do we do?’ Inheritor asked.

‘We wait,’ Meg answered calmly. ‘When they reach us, the glyph will surprise them. It won’t hold them back, but it might interrupt their progress and give us a tiny advantage.’

‘What about the Ranu down there?’ Chase asked.

‘They’ve made their choice,’ she replied, unable to hide her bitterness. ‘We can’t help them now.’

She was angry at herself for the callousness of her reply, but the dice were cast by everyone. And then understanding of her dream struck her, after so many years of its recurring. She stared at the bursts of lightning in the darkness, the dark smudge of clouds rising in the south to hide the stars, and listened to the steady rumble of thunder. She sensed the people beside her. In the dream she’d always felt her family’s presence, but there was only Chase with her now and she wished he’d listened to her advice and gone through the portal. And Runner, hiding somewhere in the castle. But she realised that she felt enormous love for the others—for Blade Cutter especially, for Wahim, even for the Kerwyn king on whom they all depended, a man she hardly knew but who she now realised was the handsome man with the sword in her dream.

‘Look,’ Wahim prompted.

A blue light formed on the horizon in the centre of the incoming storm, tiny at first but growing. The lightning’s intensity increased and waves of thunder rolled in, crashing over the earth and pounding against the plateau, shaking the stones beneath their feet. The still air melted into a breeze that whistled across the battlements.

The ground at the southernmost reach of the city lit in flashes of fire as the Ranu peacemakers roared and hurled their projectiles into the blue light. Again and again the peacemakers answered the storm’s thunder with their artificial thunder, but the blue light merely expanded as the storm rolled down upon the Ranu army. The wind picked up speed and raged over the castle, almost plucking the observers from the parapet.

‘Get under cover!’ Meg screamed at Cutter, Wahim and Chase. ‘There’s nothing more you can do!’

She saw their reluctance to leave, but used her fury and fear to drive them down the stairs towards the
throne room. She turned back in time to see the Horsemen emerge from the storm, tiny blue shapes that charged towards the Ranu line. Bursts of lightning and blue balls of flame enveloped the soldiers and their machines, immolating them as the Horsemen rode through the air above. In moments the southern plain was a sea of blue flame.

Two Horsemen wheeled towards the city’s western perimeter, two peeled off to the eastern side, two galloped up the middle, and two rose and came on towards the castle.

Methodical
, Meg thought. She rehearsed the spell she had first learned from a text by Vekesh. A Ahmud Ki had reminded her of what the unmaking spell could do when he taught her the wards and glyphs she needed to add to the sword. ‘The Horsemen, united, are stronger than you, but you can use the same unmaking spell they are using to bring them down one at a time. It may not be much, but it may also be everything.’

She glanced at Inheritor. His gaze was fixed on the approaching Horsemen, Abreotan’s sword in his hand, the blade glowing faintly amber. He was their last hope: not a hero in the old legendary style, just a man who was good at heart. A Ahmud Ki, Erin and Whisper had traded their immortal lives so that Inheritor could face the Demon Horsemen. The fate of the world had been handed to him. She would do whatever she could to help him triumph.

The Horsemen riding towards the castle loosed blue bolts of energy that destroyed the first two dragon eggs, then they attacked the remaining six. Each erupted in flames and dissolved as it tumbled earthwards. The riders circled to the northern end of the plateau and descended side by side, moving at a steady trot—and abruptly stopped as they encountered the glyph. Their steeds reared and pawed the air in the presence of magic.

‘The left one!’ Meg yelled to Inheritor, and she cast her unmaking spell at the Horseman. Simultaneously a bolt of searing white energy burst from Inheritor’s sword. Her spell hit its target and the Horseman’s blue aura vanished. Inheritor’s energy bolt ripped through rider and horse an instant later, and they tumbled towards the ground, destroyed. Meg felt a rush of exhilaration.

The second Horseman spurred his horse and plunged through the glyph, blue sparks and ragged lightning exploding violently around him. Meg cast a second unmaking spell, which hit rider and horse, and the two came barrelling towards the parapet, crashing into the stone and wood with a sickening crunch as Inheritor and Meg leapt out of the way. The stricken horse plunged off the parapet into the courtyard. The Horseman, his blue light extinguished, his jagged black armour dented, scrambled to his feet, disoriented. He tried to wrench a war hammer from his belt, but Inheritor swung Abreotan’s sword in a long, deadly arc and neatly decapitated him. The Horseman’s body slumped to the ground as his head sailed over the wall.

‘Are you all right?’ Inheritor yelled, catching his breath.

‘Never better!’ Meg assured him.
We can do this
, she realised, her heart racing.

‘Stay here!’ she instructed and vanished. In the courtyard, she found the injured horse staggering to its feet. ‘Easy,’ she crooned to the black animal. ‘You’ll be all right.’ She tenderly touched the horse’s nose, focussing her energy on healing its injuries.

‘They’re coming!’ Inheritor called.

The horse relaxed beneath her soothing hand. ‘Good boy,’ she told it, and cast another spell.

‘Hurry!’ Inheritor yelled desperately.

‘Coming!’ Meg replied. She slipped her boot into the stirrup and mounted the horse. ‘Up!’ she commanded, and the horse kicked and flew up to the parapet. ‘This is for you,’ she announced, sliding down and handing the reins to Inheritor.

‘How—’ he started to ask.

‘Ride!’ Meg ordered.

Inheritor took the reins, imagined himself mounted and was instantly in the saddle.

‘Whatever you imagine,’ Meg reminded him.

‘If I imagine the Horsemen gone?’ he quipped.

‘Unlikely,’ she replied. ‘Go! One at a time!’

As Inheritor and his mount rose above the castle, the sword shining with white energy, the wind dropped and Meg turned her attention to the remaining Horsemen.

The city, awash with blue flame, was dissolving from end to end, but the storm was stationary, hanging like a backdrop to the city’s destruction. The six Horsemen had regrouped above the city and were facing the castle. Combined, they would overpower Inheritor. Needing a distraction to draw them away, she resorted to a simple illusion: to the east, a flotilla of glowing amber dragon eggs appeared, heading for the city. But the Horsemen disregarded them and urged their horses forward towards Inheritor. Meg dissolved the illusion and prepared to cast another unmaking spell. How many Horsemen could she bring down before Inheritor weakened or was overwhelmed?

‘What’s happening?’

Chase’s sudden appearance startled her. ‘Get back inside!’ she ordered, but he ignored her, staring in awe at the scene above. Enveloped in blue light like the Horsemen, Inheritor waited for the battle, his newly acquired steed pawing the air impatiently.

‘How did he do that?’ Chase whispered.

‘Go!’ she screamed, her anger rising.

Eyes still riveted to the vision, Chase obediently backtracked down the stairs. A flash of light drew Meg’s attention skyward again. Six energy bolts burst from the Horsemen and crashed into Inheritor. His horse reared, but settled. Inheritor himself seemed unaffected by the attack. Six amber streams flashed from Abreotan’s sword across the space and passed through the Horsemen.
Magic won’t work on them
, Meg reflected.
And it won’t affect Inheritor now, either. Only the unmaking spell works
.

She focussed a spell on the closest rider. The blue aura vanished and he tumbled with his horse from the sky, but her attack prompted the Horsemen into action. Four charged at Inheritor. One dived towards her, and before she could cast another spell she had to launch herself over the parapet to avoid his jagged blade. The fall knocked the breath from her and her left arm twisted awkwardly beneath her body. She rolled over, groaning with pain, to discover the Horseman in the courtyard facing her. He dismounted, twisting his sword in anticipation of the kill as he strode confidently towards her. Determined to beat him, she hauled herself up against the wall and cast an unmaking spell. The blue aura around the warrior and his horse vanished, but the dark-armoured Horseman merely took off his helmet, laughed and said in an ancient tongue, ‘I don’t need magic to cut open an old woman.’