The City of Stars (Chronicles of the Magi Book 3)

by Dave Morris

  Behind, Altor again felt the hot rank breath on his neck. He ran on, but now he knew that what Sussurien had said was true. The creatures would never give up. They would never tire. There was no escape.

  Caelestis nearly tripped over the dog. The stupid creature had stopped to gawp at them.

  Then he noticed the dog’s eyes, like hot coals…

  There was a door in the wall of the alley. Leaves of silver filigree entwined the lock.

  Hardly daring to hope, he pulled the key that Fatima had given him from his robes. It too had large leaves engraved on it.

  ‘Altor!’ shouted Caelestis. He fumbled for the lock.

  The demons were on them. The stench of them was a suffocating odour of evil. They reared up—three open maws slavering poison, old hands like gnarled roots, a buzzing many-eyed thing with the body of a swollen dead woman.

  The door opened. Caelestis and Altor felt the dog speed between their feet as they flung themselves through. Sobbing in panic, Caelestis slammed the door shut. A heavy clout nearly knocked it open again. He jammed the key in the lock and turned it, and with relief he heard the bolt click home.

  On the other side, three ghastly voices were raised in a scream of frustrated fury. It rang out across the silent city, and as it faded Altor and Caelestis heard the grunts and resentful snuffling as the demon-gods withdrew.

  They slumped against the door. Apparently here they were safe. But for how long?

  Catching their breath, they saw they were in a walled garden. The scent of jasmine filled their nostrils, as thick as the purple shadows of morning twilight. The grass under their feet was lush and damp with dew.

  The dog bounded off across the lawn towards a pavilion where a woman sat sipping from a silver chalice.

  It was Fatima, the sorceress they had met in Crescentium. She was instantly recognisable somehow, even though she had worn a veil when they rescued her from the Thulanders. Caelestis straightened himself and bowed.

  Altor too. ‘God bless you, lady,’ he said. ‘Your garden is a refuge from perils I think you would not believe.’

  ‘I think I might.’ Her voice was barely more than a murmur. ‘Come and sit, and tell me what has befallen you since last we met.’

  They joined her in the pavilion, but Caelestis could not restrain a worried glance at the high wall that ran around the garden. The demon-gods could still be heard in the alleyway outside, scraping and tapping as they looked for a way in.

  ‘You are sure that all doors to the garden are locked, Lady Fatima? Because—‘

  She smiled and offered them sweetmeats on a silver dish. ‘All ways are locked, I assure you, and it is not often that I entrust others with the keys.’

  She stroked the black dog that now lay at her feet. Altor looked at it and wondered. ‘Is that..?’ He broke off, not quite sure how to phrase the question.

  ‘Is that dog a jinni by any chance?’ said Caelestis.

  Fatima cocked her eyebrows. ‘A jinni?’ she laughed. ‘Why ever should you think that?’

  ‘It’s just that we were brought to Hakbad by a jinni who—Oh well, it’s of no great importance.’ He peered intently at the dog. ‘He said he’d do no more favours for us, so I suppose it can’t be.’

  Now that they were out of danger, Altor had time to mull over the events of the last few minutes. ‘We’ve failed,’ he said. ‘Even if we can somehow lose Sussurien’s demons, he has the Hatuli. Without it we can’t find the Sword of Life.’

  ‘The Hatuli,’ said Caelestis. ‘Oh yes.’

  Out of his toga he drew a little wooden mannikin with green gemstones for eyes.

  Altor’s jaw fell open. ‘How?’

  ‘Remember when we were on the island? I whittled a copy from a bit of driftwood, and I used some chips of green marble from the gravel path in the park for the eyes. Sussurien was too busy berating my ‘clumsiness’ to notice the switch.’

  ‘What a scheming knave you are, Cael!’ said Altor cheerfully.

  ‘Ah, the Hatuli,’ said Fatima, picking it up. ‘This was one of Saknathur’s toys. And you want it to find the Sword of Life for you? It must be instructed in Ancient Kaikuhuran. Ma’inir thiren qalash ne—there, it’s done.’ She set the mannikin down and it ran off across the lawn towards a gate half-hidden by rose bushes.

  Altor and Caelestis rose to follow it, pausing on the steps of the pavilion to look back at Fatima. ‘Will we meet again?’ asked Altor.

  She nodded. ‘Now hurry. The Hatuli will take you to the blade. And remember that a weapon is only a strong as the courage with which it’s wielded.’

  They said farewell and let themselves out through the gate. It led to a small cobbled plaza with a well in the middle. On impulse, Caelestis looked back. There was no sign of the gate they had just come through, and he realized now he had left the silver key on the table in Fatima’s pavilion.

  ‘Come on,’ called Altor. He had followed the Hatuli to the edge of the well, where it was no waiting for them.

  They peered down. The well was as dark as a grave. ‘At least it seems dry,’ said Caelestis. ‘That’s something to be grateful for, I suppose.’

  Tucking the Hatuli in his belt, he started to climb down, calling out the location of handholds in the brickwork to Altor. At the bottom, the Hatuli came to life again. It squirmed out of his belt and scurried to the back of the chamber in which they stood.

  Altor lowered himself the last few feet and waited while his eyes adjusted to the gloom. A little of the grey morning twilight penetrated into the depths, and by it they saw a jewelled door. Stalactites hung like tears around it.

  ‘It can’t have been opened for centuries,’ said Caelestis in awe. He went forward and put his shoulder to the door. ‘Help me, Altor.’

  For several long minutes they bent in silence, straining all their muscles as they pushed against the door. Gradually old limestone seals cracked, the accumulated dust and grit of many years was forced back, hinges fused solid with verdigris gave way. There was a sigh of inrushing air as the door opened a few inches.

  From inside came a slow swirl of light, swimming with patterns of shade and brightness as sunlight reflected from a river writhes under the arch of a bridge.

  The door swung open. The hall beyond was half of white marble, half of black. To right and left, at either end, were vaulted alcoves in which stood blocks of grey stone.

  On the left hand block rested a sword-blade of jet black metal that radiated flickers of shadow. To the right was a blade of so pure and intense a whiteness that it was almost painful to look upon.

  Altor strode over to it, the hilt already in his hand. The pommel stone flared with rainbow colours in the white glare. Excitedly he fitted the blade in position and there was a sound like steel on an anvil as it locked in place.

  Altor turned it in his hand, dazzled by the light. He tested the feel of it, swinging it through the air. It made a sound like an eagle’s wings, and pulses of light streaked from its aura to illuminate the dark corners of the room.

  Altor raised it above his head and gave a great shout of joy. ‘At last—!’

  He had kept the promise made all that time ago in a forest glade in Krarth. After so long, so many hardships and dangers, the Sword of Life was whole again.

  Caelestis could not keep his eyes from straying to the other blade. Darkness pulsated around it. It looked like a tear in space that looked out onto the void.

  ‘What about that one?’

  ‘That’s not for us,’ Altor said after a moment’s thought. ‘This is all we need to fight the Magi.’

  They climbed back up the well shaft full of optimism. Now that they had found and restored the Sword of Life, neither could quite believe it. Their quest fulfilled, they had the power now to keep the Five Magi from ever returning to earth. The grey sky above looked glorious.

  Sussurien was waiting for them at the top of the well. With him were the three demons he had summoned.

  Fourteen:

  The
Pale Unsatisfied Ones

  When Altor and Caelestis had entered the well it was still night. Now dawn was but a few minutes off. Under a silver sky, the buildings that before had seemed only indistinct shadows had taken on substance and the first hints of colour. A skyline of minarets and domes shimmered in the twilight. Now, with the cityscape revealed by approaching day, they noticed for the first time that they were close to the seafront. The bay stretched away glittering before them, a polished mirror under the dark frame of retreating night.

  ‘Darkness on the one hand, dawn on the other. And here we stand in the thick of destiny,’ said Sussurien.

  Beside him the three resurrected gods stood outlined against the eastern sky, silent sentinels waiting to be appeased with human blood. The harsh light of the Sword of Life showed every monstrous detail: the tuberous scaly skin of the serpent, the alien visage and burst grey flesh of the disease-demon, the dark depravity in the Yazir’s root-sunken eyes. Even Altor and Caelestis, who had experienced many horrors on their quest, felt the icy breath of fear.

  It was Caelestis who noticed the silence. ‘Where is everybody?’ he said.

  Altor looked around, ignoring the secret smile that formed on Sussurien’s lips as he relished their perplexity.

  Caelestis was right. At this hour, the city should be already coming to life. Where were the early traders on their way to market? Where were the priests shouting from the minarets, calling the faithful to dawn prayers?

  Where were the birds, that should be singing in the trees?

  It was with a shock that Altor heard Sussurien seeming to read his mind. ‘The bird of time has but a little way to fly, but I have clipped its wings. Under the wide sky, we alone share this moment—we three mortals, and these three gods of olden times, are all that stir from one rim of the world to the other.’

  ‘You’ve frozen time,’ said Altor, making it sound like a mortal sin.

  ‘Nobody’s magic is that powerful,’ said Caelestis.

  Sussurien nodded. ‘Good, good. You’re right of course, though I’m surprised you didn’t realize it sooner. After all, if my own magic were enough to create simulacra of ancient gods and halt time, then I’d hardly have needed the Hatuli just to locate a magic sword for me.’

  Altor frowned. ‘Then how?’

  Caelestis understood. Rubbing his ring, he called out the Faltyn that lived within it. ‘Here is something that belonged to Saknathur the wizard,’ he said, holding up the Hatuli. ‘Bring me the pearl from Sussurien’s turban and you can have it.’

  The Faltyn took a floating step towards Sussurien, only to hesitate like smoke caught in a back draft. ‘That jewel is White Light’s gift. Not for all Saknathur’s treasures will I aid you against the Magi, mortal.’

  The Faltyn was staring past them into the western sky. Caelestis and Altor turned, following its gaze, and saw a sight that struck dread in their hearts. A sight that awakened in both of them memory of terrible dreams.

  Against the curtain of night, five vast spectral shapes were visible, sparkling with dim colours like the northern aurora. A lord of green, another of gold, of blue and white and crimson. Five stern faces, sketched in ghost-light amid the fleeting stars, looked down at them with cold hatred.

  Sussurien laughed as the Faltyn gave a whimper and curled back into its ring. ‘You see now? The Magi gave me much power, but even they could not find the Sword of Life because it was hidden from them. That’s all I needed you for.’

  ‘So you intended to betray us right from the start?’

  Altor took a pace towards him. The three demon-gods growled and heaved themselves forward. Altor stopped.

  ‘Betrayal is such an ugly word,’ said Sussurien. ‘Also it implies personal animosity. I care not a whit about the two of you. To me you are just part of the common herd of humanity; you do not matter. But the Magi demanded your deaths as the price for the power they gave me, so you must see how it is.’

  Caelestis shook his head. ‘I see you’re not your own master at all. You’re just a puppet of the Five Magi.’

  Sussurien clapped his hands in delight. ‘You resort to name-calling now, Caelestis? Obviously you’re desperate. Well, I’ll prolong this no further.’

  He gave a signal to the demon-gods. Like three huge boulders, they swayed forwards and began to close in on Altor.

  ‘One question!’ yelled Caelestis, mind whirring as he tried to think of any plan that might work. ‘Why have you stopped time?’

  ‘According to prophecy, the Magi could return to earth neither until the sword was made whole, nor after it was. I’ve prolonged the instant that you found it, so that once you are slain they can descend and live again.’

  ‘And you’ll be the first one they get rid of!’

  Sussurien winced. ‘I’d heard reports you had a persuasive tongue, Caelestis. I must say you disappoint me.’

  He half turned away, as if too fastidious to watch while his demons tore them limb from limb, and stood gazing out towards the bay where the five celestial lords glimmered in the western sky.

  Caelestis had no weapon—he had lost his dagger with his boots in the fireball at the temple of Tammuz. But he went forwards to stand beside his friend as the three demons shuffled around to encircle them.

  ‘Do you think there’s any chance of defeating them now we have the Sword of Life?’

  Altor’s eyes were fixed warily on the demons. The thing with the fly’s head made a probing feint towards him. He stabbed at it with the shining sword’s tip, There was a hiss, a smell like charred hair, and the demon drew its arm back with a horrible buzzing cry that made Altor’s skin crawl.

  ‘Not much,’ he said grimly. ‘Even if I could kill one with a single blow, the other two would get us before I had time for another strike.’

  ‘This is it, then.’ Caelestis scowled at the sword, which looked like a shaft of pure energy in the grey twilight. ‘That turned out to be a bit of a disappointment, didn’t it?’

  Altor’s eyes flicked for a split-second to the sword. It was an almost fatal mistake. Seeing his concentration broken, the serpent-creature Azidahaka lashed out. Altor twisted aside without thinking and two of the heads missed, but the third clamped its jaws tight on his neck. Altor gasped as he felt stinging poison spurt into his veins.

  Crack! The head released its grip and fell back, mouth gaping, eyes unfocussed. Caelestis drew back his arm and gave Azidahaka another clout across the bridge of the nose with the mannikin. This time the wood splintered and the Hatuli’s legs went flying.

  Azidahaka hissed and reared back, knocking Caelestis off his feet with an angry swish of its tail. It moved in for the kill. Caelestis struggled to stand, but he had one foot caught under the demon’s heavy coils. He looked up to see three narrow bald heads raised over him. Thin dark blood ran from one of them where the blow with the Hatuli had split its skin. Caelestis lay helpless. The worst thing, he thought, was that the creature still showed no emotion. It was not hate that shone from its eyes, but only a cold implacable viciousness.

  The heads began to descend. Venom spattered like burning black rain. Caelestis braced himself for the fatal bite.

  Altor lunged forward out of nowhere. The Sword of Life blazed in his hand. Though he was staggering because of the poison in his bloodstream, his aim was true. Magic steel whispered through unhuman flesh, and one of the terrible heads fell to the ground.

  It lay twitching, jaws pumping venom, while the demon thrashed and the remaining two heads screamed their fury to the heavens.

  Altor’s strength deserted him. He sat down heavily beside Caelestis. His hand opened and the Sword lay across his limp palm. ‘No use...’ he gasped. ‘It’s not enough, Cael.’

  Sussurien stood with his arms folded. Without turning to look at them, he gave an impatient sigh and said, ‘Kill them now, so that I may enjoy the dawn.’

  The other two demon-gods had hesitated at seeing one of Azidahaka’s heads sliced off. Now they pressed in towards the two
heroes.

  ‘We can’t let it end like this,’ said Caelestis. ‘We have to fight.’

  ‘Fight?’ Altor swayed, bracing one arm against the ground to keep from falling flat. ‘I can’t even stand.’

  ‘Not fight like that.’ Caelestis shook his head vehemently, almost blinded by the sudden inspiration that flooded him. ‘We’ve got it wrong, Altor—thinking of it as just a sword. It’s a thing as old as Time itself. The mystery isn’t how to wield it against three foes. It’s how the power inside it can be contained at all.’

  Altor looked at him through eyes half-closed with pain.

  Caelestis closed his hand over his friend’s, so they both gripped the gleaming weapon’s hilt. ‘Have faith, Altor,’ he said. ‘This is the Sword of Life.’

  In the stillness and silence of a frozen dawn, the demons reached for them.

  And then it came.

  The first sign was a distant note, vibrating at the edge of hearing. Altor and Caelestis felt it through their fingertips even before they heard it. At the same time, the light from the sword-blade intensified.

  The demons faltered, the claws of the first just inches from Caelestis’s face.

  The note dropped from a high-pitched whine to a fierce irresistible shrieking. The demons swayed as if in pain. The note continued to drop, becoming a low rumble that thrummed through the ground. It fell almost below the range of hearing.

  And then, like a dam bursting, it swelled a thousand fold, seeming to speak with a voice of holy wrath. It was like the first sound in all Creation, a sound that could shake the world asunder—and with it came a blistering white light to match all the dawns there had ever been.

  Squinting into the glare, the two heroes could just make out the flailing shapes of the demon-gods. They looked as if they were on fire, their essence evaporating in the flux of energy from the sword.

  Sussurien stepped forward. ‘I will kill you myself.’ The words were almost drowned out in the remorseless boom from the sword.

  At his belt hung a scimitar. It was half out of its scabbard when he blundered into one of the demons. In its panic it turned, its arms thrown high to strike. Altor and Caelestis heard a short cry before Sussurien fell. They did not see him die—the blaze of white was too intense. All they could make out were three ragged shapes that fell on a cowering scrap of shadow and, in their blind fury, tore it apart.