Faerie Wars 03 - Ruler of the Realm (36 page)

'Can't you get a close-up?' Fogarty asked. 'Zoom the lens or whatever it is you do here?'

Madame Cardui shook her head again. 'We don't actually have a spy eye
in
the desert - there's so much sulphur venting that any moisture turns to acid. The eyes are moist, of course, so it eats through their spell coating in a matter of hours. Simply isn't worth installing them. And for what, usually? A few wandering Trinians? No, the eye you're looking through is on the eastern gate of Yammeth City. It's normally turned on the city itself: there are a few spell factories in that quarter we like to keep an eye on, forgive the bad pun. But one of them blew up last week - some sort of industrial accident involving sprites, I believe. In any case, the energy discharge turned the eye around. No damage, just turned it so it was looking out across the desert. What with everything that's been going on, we didn't get round to sending an agent to correct it. Then earlier today, a monitor noticed this -'

'Noticed what?' Fogarty asked.

'Just keep watching where my - there, see the dust is clearing. Watch there. There's a break in the ridge. When you see it, look
through
it.'

Fogarty watched. The dust plume did seem to be thinning a little, but he still couldn't see the break in the ridge. And then suddenly he could. For scarcely more than a second he was glimpsing what seemed to be a plain covered in black dots. The trouble was, you couldn't work out the perspective. You didn't know if you were looking at ants or armoured cars.

'Did you see that?' Madame Cardui asked.

'Think so. Not sure.'

'What do you think it is?

Fogarty shrugged. 'I don't know. What do
you
think it is?'

'I think it's Beleth,' Madame Cardui said.

'Beleth?' Fogarty echoed. 'The King of Hell?'

'Well, technically his title is Prince of Darkness, deeah, but yes,
that
Beleth.'

Fogarty shook his head, frowning. 'The Hell portals are closed.'

'There may be new ones. Blue says the demons have been planning an invasion.'

'How does Blue know what the demons are planning?' Fogarty asked.

Madame Cardui stared at him, then shook her head impatiently. 'I'm sorry, deeah. I forgot you were with the Forest Faerie when Blue came round. Blue was kidnapped by the demons using Henry as their agent.'

'Good God!' Fogarty exclaimed. He did a double take. 'Using
Henry?

'They implanted him. We've just had it removed. I'll tell you the whole story when we have more time,' Madame Cardui promised. 'Just now, the important thing is Blue has information about a possible demon invasion. I'm worried this might be it. If Beleth's troops join up with the Faeries of the Night, we're finished.'

'I take your point,' Fogarty said. He leaned forward to peer into the crystal ball again. 'But are you
sure
those dots are demons?'

'No, of course not. That's why I've sent Pyrgus to find out.'

'You sent Pyrgus?'

'Yes.'

Fogarty blinked. 'Bit dangerous if you happen to be right.'

'He was close and I can trust him. This is no time for niceties - we're at war and I need to know what we're facing. Besides, Nymphalis is with him: next to Kitterick I don't know anyone who could protect him better.'

Fogarty tore his eyes away from the scene in the globe. 'Does Blue know?'

Madame Cardui withdrew her hands and the globe sank back down into the recess in her desk. 'About Pyrgus? Yes, she was with me when I sent him.'

'Where is Blue anyway? Shouldn't the Queen be running her own war?'

'She certainly agrees with you on that,' Madame Cardui said. 'She was in the Situation Room until she came close to collapse. I finally bullied her into taking a rest - she's still recovering from the effects of demon poisoning. But I expect she'll be back before long.'

'But she knows about these demons, does she?' Fogarty waved his hand towards the globe.

'Assuming they really
are
the demons,' Madame Cardui sighed, 'and not a figment of an old woman's imagination. No, she doesn't and I don't plan to worry her until we know for sure.'

'Maybe we -' Fogarty began, but was interrupted by a thunderous knocking at the door.

'Oh, dear, what
now?'
Madame Cardui sighed. She walked across and thumbed the security lock.

A florid-faced General Creerful was standing with his hand raised to knock again. He ignored Madame Cardui completely.

'Gatekeeper, Lord Hairstreak's at the palace gates. He demands to see Queen Blue.'

The heat hit him like a wall. Then came the smell. 'Whooo!' Pyrgus exclaimed, and began to cough helplessly as some acrid fume caught in the back of his throat. Nymph, who was hard on his heels, began to cough too. Only Woodfordi, bringing up the rear, seemed unaffected.

Pyrgus looked around, still coughing. This was his first visit to the Eastern Desert and, if he had anything to do with it, it would be his last. He'd heard about this area, but nothing prepared him for the reality. A barren, rocky pavement stretched as far as the eye could see, broken at intervals by plumes of smoke and dust. A criss-cross of cracks glowed dull red from the lava flows beneath, casting a peculiar glow across the entire scene. Not a hundred yards from where they landed, he could see a softly bubbling mud lake.

Woodfordi handed him a flask. 'Try this, sir, begging your pardon, sir. And the lady too.'

'What is it?' Pyrgus asked between coughs.

'Little something for the throat. Army issue. They tell you it lines the passages and prevents permanent damage. Don't know about that, sir, but it does help.'

Pyrgus took a brief swallow and handed the flask to Nymph. The liquid was viscous and tasted foul, but his coughing eased at once. He turned to lock the flyer -no sense in taking unnecessary chances - then said, 'North-east, wasn't it?' He glanced up at the sky.

Woodfordi smiled slightly. "Fraid I don't remember, sir. Part of the training.'

Nymph confirmed, 'Yes, north-east.'

'I'll lead the way,' said Pyrgus and strode off.

It proved heavy going, even on the flat, and after half an hour he began to wonder about Madame Cardui's estimate of their timing. The trouble was the fumes. Although Woodfordi's liquid stopped the coughing, there was no way of avoiding noxious gases getting into your lungs. He'd read somewhere that if you stayed a little too long in this wasteland you started to hallucinate. (And if you stayed a lot too long, you died.) But even before that happened, the desert sapped your strength.

The irritating thing was that neither Nymph nor the little soldier Woodfordi seemed to be as badly affected as he was, so he had to push himself to the limit to keep up the stupid pace he'd set. The two of them walked after him easily. They even had breath for a chatty conversation.

'How did you get to be a CC?' Nymph asked.

'Born to it, I think, Miss,' Woodfordi told her. 'Parents found me chatting to my nan when I was a kid. Only trouble was the old girl died before I was born. Well, they didn't know what to do with that, did they? Simple people, my folks - Dad worked on an ordle farm, Light rest him. So they sent me off to a special school: I think they were a bit scared, to tell the truth.'

'Was this some sort of training school?'

'Not really, Miss. But one of the teachers realised what I was and raised enough funds to get me a year in the Psychic's Academy - you know, the one off Flannelmaker's Square. That's where the military found me. Only way a titch like me could get into the army. My wife says I need to stand on a box to kiss her anywhere above the knee. So you couldn't imagine me in combat, could you?'

'Can you still talk to dead people?' Nymph asked curiously; and Pyrgus's ears pricked up, even though he was pretending not to listen.

'Heavens no, Miss. Army knocked that out of me. No use to them, see? Troops would waste their time chatting to their fallen comrades. They trained me to contact the Military Guide instead - some sort of angel, I think he is, although you'd never believe it when you hear him swear - and he showed me how to do the messages. Receiving was easy, right from the start, but sending's a bit tricky until you get the hang of it.'

'Can you send a message to anybody?'

Woodfordi shook his head. 'Oh, no, Miss - only another channel. We make up a sort of network, you might say. When the Painted Lady called you before, she was talking in the ear of a mate of mine called Weiskei.'

Pyrgus stopped dead. They had entered a boulder-strewn area and he was certain there was something moving behind a rock.

'Quiet!' he hissed.

Nymph responded at once and unslung her bow. Pyrgus pointed silently to the rock and she began to circle behind it. As much for a diversion as anything else, Pyrgus said, 'Better take cover, Mr Woodfordi.'

'Sir!' Woodfordi acknowledged briskly.

Then Pyrgus abruptly realised Nymph might be moving into danger and started to run towards the rock, reaching for his trusted Halek knife.

And then suddenly, incredibly, they were surrounded.

Blue woke with a start. For just the barest moment she didn't know where she was, then saw she was in her Imperial Quarters, in a comfortable chair where she must have fallen asleep. How long ago? Minutes? Hours?

She felt better. Various pains had drained from her body, leaving only a residue of stiffness, and her mind was a great deal clearer. She started to push herself out of the chair when the memory flooded back. The war. She'd be needed in the Situation Room.

Then as the knocking came again she realised what had wakened her. 'Come!' she called and her voice pattern released the spell securities.

It was Gatekeeper Fogarty, along with Madame Cynthia and -

'What's
he
doing here?' Blue demanded. Her heart was pounding suddenly. For a mad moment she thought he might be a prisoner of war.

'My deeah,' said Madame Cynthia cautiously. 'Your uncle has something to say to you.'

Lord Hairstreak was already striding forward, arrogant as always, dressed in his favoured black. 'Your Majesty -' he began formally.

What in Hael was he doing here? No guards. No uniform. He might have been on a social visit.

'I'm here to offer an immediate truce,' he said.

Blue stared at him, certain she'd misheard. Nobody would offer a truce so soon. It had to be a trick.

'Why?' she asked him simply.

Hairstreak's face remained unreadable. 'Because,' he said, 'if we do not cease fighting at once, the Realm is doomed.'

Pyrgus slid his knife slowly back into its sheath. From the corner of his eye, he could see Nymph carefully setting her bow and arrows on the ground. Then she stood up and raised both hands to show they were empty. A little to his right, Woodfordi had ignored the order to take cover and was standing with his empty hands exposed as well.

'We come in peace,' said Pyrgus, feeling stupid.

There were maybe twenty-five nomadic Trinians in plain sight and Light alone knows how many more still hidden in the rocks. They were wearing only loincloths on account of the heat and all three Trinian types were represented. Violets predominated as you'd expect in a hostile environment, but there was a goodly scattering of orange and even one or two green. None of them was armed. They didn't need to be - all three breeds were toxic. A Trinian bite was almost always fatal and even a venom spit - which travelled several yards -could incapacitate you for months. Pyrgus noted with relief that the leader - you could tell he was a leader from the feathers - was orange.