‘You look like you could do with some sleep as well,’ said Wahim kindly.
‘I’ll see Erin first,’ she replied, and, with a glance towards Swift, headed out of the chamber. A familiar bluish light was emanating from within the Jaru library chamber, and when she entered she saw the portal shimmering against the far wall. A light sphere floated above a table on which was spread a thick woollen green rug. Curled on the rug was Whisper, asleep.
She headed first for the table to check on the rat. The bullet wounds were gone—healed—and, like Swift, the rat was in a deep recuperative sleep. Meg knew that the sliver of amber embedded in Whisper would aid her to recover far more rapidly than Swift. She gently stroked the little animal’s soft shiny fur and smiled, pleased that her long-time companion was alive and would be well again. Then she turned her attention to the portal.
She was surprised to see shadows in the texture of the light similar to those she remembered the first time she had formed a portal to Se’Treya. Did Erin also know that forbidding place? A closer examination showed her that the shadows formed a view of the ruined Hohdan temple from where she had so recently returned. Then a larger shadow loomed in the portal and Erin appeared, bumping into her as he entered the chamber. ‘Sorry,’ he said, grabbing Meg’s arms to balance himself. As he released her and stepped away, the portal dissolved.
‘Where did you go?’ she asked.
His expression became sheepish. ‘I just stepped out.’
‘To the temple,’ she noted. ‘Why?’
‘Some matters that needed addressing.’
‘What?’
‘It’s all done,’ he said and headed for Whisper. ‘How is Swift?’
‘She’s sleeping,’ Meg said. ‘I wasn’t sure I could save her, but she’s strong. What did you do?’
‘I healed my sister’s spirit,’ he replied.
‘I mean at the temple,’ Meg insisted, her green eyes warning him not to lie.
He shifted nervously under her determined gaze, and dropped his dark eyes to the table and the sleeping rat. ‘The soldiers no longer pose a threat to you.’
‘Why?’ She guessed at what he had dared to do, but wanted to hear it from his own lips.
Sudden defiance flashed in his eyes. ‘My sister is all I have,’ he said, ‘and they nearly killed her.’
‘It still doesn’t justify killing them,’ Meg declared, anger rippling through her words.
Erin stared, his eyes wide, then he started to laugh.
‘Why are you laughing?’ Meg asked. She grabbed his grey vest and turned him towards her. ‘What have you done?’ she demanded.
He caught his breath. ‘I didn’t kill anyone.’
She stared, puzzled. ‘Then what?’
‘I made an old Ashuak dragon attack them. It burned their flying vessel and chased them south, out of the city.’
Meg’s jaw dropped. ‘You did what?’
Her astonishment made Erin break into laughter again. ‘You should have seen them,’ he chortled. ‘They stood stock-still, staring up at the dragon as if they couldn’t believe their senses. Then, when it made its first pass and set their flying machine alight, they panicked and scattered into the ruins and vegetation. I really had to concentrate to drive them all in the same direction. Casting fireballs and keeping the illusion operating was difficult, but the effect was amazing! They ran so hard, falling and leaping over stones, screaming whenever a fireball set the bushes alight. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re still running.’
Meg continued to stare at the elated young man, struggling to make sense of his weird tale. ‘You called a dragon?’ she asked.
He grinned. ‘I conjured a dragon,’ he corrected. ‘Real dragons were wiped out three centuries ago by Alwyn, but I’ve read so much about them that it was easy to reconstruct an image, and the soldiers weren’t interested in testing whether or not what they were seeing was real. The fire was real. That was enough for them.’
‘You can do several spells at the same time?’ she asked.
‘So can you,’ he said. ‘You have the amber. There are no limits to your power.’
‘But how did you learn all this?’
‘Books, Meg.’ He spun, arms extended. ‘All of these books. Every spell ever cast in history is recorded somewhere in this library. I’ve read all its contents. Do you know the Elvenaar and the ancient Andrakians believed there were special words for conjuring spells? And the Ranu Ithosen prayed to a god. The shaman magicians in the ancient Ukesu lands used to gather chemicals and gems and items and mix them together to generate spells. But they were all misguided! Spells come from the will combined with amber to amplify it. That’s all it takes, plus some understanding of the nature of the spell required—and imagination!’
‘Making you a Dragonlord,’ Meg murmured, recalling A Ahmud Ki’s observations.
Erin’s smile faded. ‘Dragonlord. Yes. I know that terminology. It was the title given to a family of Alfyn brothers who wanted to become more powerful than anyone of their kind. They deliberately embedded chunks of the Genesis Stone in their bodies so they could generate magic at will, and they used it to wage war on their own kind until only they survived. Or at least that was what they were led to believe. The Alfyn who escaped the attempted genocide went to the east, where they remained until Alwyn’s coming.’
‘And then?’
‘They lured the dragons into a portal to another place and vanished.’
‘So there could still be dragons somewhere?’
Erin shrugged. ‘It’s possible.’
‘Where did the dragons come from?’
‘The Dragonlords created them. They took the flying lizards of ancient times and embedded each one with a sliver of amber, bestowing magical powers on them. They became dragons. The Dragonlords domesticated them for their own uses; as a magical construct, a dragon was almost unstoppable. That’s why the Elvenaar helped Abreotan create the sword—to combat the dragons as well as the Dragonlords. It took a magical weapon to defeat a magical being.’
‘I’ve read some of this,’ Meg said, ‘but I never realised it was so closely intertwined.’
‘When you’ve read every book written, you realise that history is like a thick web. What seems disparate and happening far off in another place and time still resonates with where you are. Everything is linked, either in space, time, experience or concept.’ Erin shook his head and sat on a stool near the table where Whisper slept, resting his chin on his fists. Despair crept into his voice as he muttered, ‘I never wanted this power. No person should have it. The Genesis Stones should never have fallen.’
‘What did you say?’ Meg asked.
Erin lifted his head. ‘What?’
‘You said “stones”.’
For an instant Erin’s expression was blank, then he answered. ‘Yes, I did. It’s true. More than one stone fell. The most ancient writings record the falling of stars in many places. Some scribes would have seen the same star falling, but others would have seen different ones. There was definitely more than one Genesis Stone. One was buried deep in Jaru’s Garden, a forest far to the south of here. Another must have landed in the Elvenaar forests of the place that became Andrakis. There could have been more scattered all over our world.’
Meg sat down beside him. ‘Thank you for chasing the soldiers away,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry for accusing you of—’
‘Killing?’ He snorted. ‘I wanted to kill them. When I’d healed Whisper, I wanted to slaughter the men who dared to attack my sister’s spirit. I felt my hatred surge and knew I had the power to wipe them from the face of the earth. And that feeling scared me. After you returned with Swift, I decided to clean up what you’d left behind. But when I stepped through the portal I knew I couldn’t kill them. I’ve read Jaru’s Gift too many times. The greatest gift we can give to one another is forgiveness, and the cruellest act we can commit is to forsake ourselves. I chose another way—the same way I’ve followed since I chose to lock the se
crets of magic away from the outside world.’
She put an arm over his shoulder. ‘Then you did well. I wasn’t as strong. I killed at least one despite promising myself that I would not let my magic cause death like it always has in the past.’
He looked at her and shook his head. ‘It’s not your fault. Alwyn was a man of great peace and wisdom and even he could not stay the hand of death from those who came seeking it. Men choose their destinies. I chose my path a long time ago and I do not regret what I have done. You are choosing yours—or perhaps it is choosing you. If everything you’ve told me of these men you call Seers is true, then they are infected with the same evil as the Khvechevik and the Hohdan priests and the Dragonlords—the evil of men who seek to impose their will on the lives of all others. You are the only one who can stand between them and the evil they inflict. You have been chosen by the amber and so you are the one who must decide what to do with it. If men of evil come seeking death, you are not responsible for their fate.’
Meg gazed into Erin’s dark eyes, recognising that she was staring into the depths of an intellect that had spent more than three centuries studying the secrets of magic, the histories of generations of races, the philosophical arguments of great minds, and the complex web of intrigue, hopes, dreams and actions of kings and queens, heroes and villains, priests, soldiers, workers and paupers. That he had chosen to keep his treasury of knowledge magically hidden inside the ruins of the Khvech Daas library under the rubble of the once mighty city of Chuekwer, capital of Ashuak, impressed her. That he was urging her to use her amber magic in the outer world, when he had chosen the opposite pathway, puzzled her. But he had made it very clear that it was her choice how to use her power, and she felt herself bound by circumstance to act against the Seers. How and where she should and would act were unanswered questions. When was now. She had run from her fate for almost fifty years and the circumstances had only worsened. There was no more sense in running.
CHAPTER FOUR
Whisper scampered across the white tiles, leapt up onto the stone bookshelf and trotted along the ragged line of books until she reached a black leather volume with gold inlaid lettering. She sniffed the text and scratched at the leather.
‘I can’t believe she knows which book is which,’ said Chase as he headed for the shelf.
‘That’s because you keep thinking of her as a rat,’ said Erin from his black chair.
Chase retrieved the book and carried it to him. ‘I don’t mean to be disrespectful to your sister,’ he said. ‘It’s just—’
‘Weird,’ said Erin. ‘I know. I’ve had to ponder the consequences of my impetuous action many times since. Sometimes that’s just how life drives us.’
He opened the volume Chase handed him and scanned its pages and diagrams.
‘What language is that?’ Chase asked.
‘Targan. The women were the practitioners of magic in that society. They were each presented with an amber ring when they began learning magic, but they never equated the amber with their ability. They assumed that women had greater intellect than men, but it was the tradition of passing the ring from mother to daughter that gave them power, not their sex.’
‘So what are you looking for in this book?’
‘As much information as we can learn about the sword. Sooner or later, if Meg is going to fight the Demon Horsemen, she will need the sword.’
‘Meg? Fight the Demon Horsemen?’ Chase blurted. ‘How could she?’
‘The sword will give her greater powers.’
‘But surely she’d need to know how to use a sword?’
Erin looked up and blinked. ‘Perhaps.’
‘What do you mean, perhaps?’
‘Well, it is possible the sword empowers its wielder with the ability to wield it.’
‘Is that what the books tell you?’
Erin paused before he replied. ‘No.’
Chase waited for further explanation but none came; Erin simply returned to reading. Chase shrugged and left, walking along the dim stone corridors to the chamber where Meg was watching over Swift. The old woman looked up as he entered. ‘How is she?’ he asked. ‘Any change?’
Meg shook her head. ‘She’s breathing freely, and the wounds and scars are gone. She should be awake.’
‘Then what’s wrong?’
‘I’m not sure. All we can do is be patient. She’s been on a very harsh journey.’
Chase gazed at his half-sister’s sleeping form. Her red hair, normally cropped short, had grown considerably since they had departed from Port of Joy. ‘How long is it since we left?’ he asked. ‘I know we took forty or more days to get here, and we’ve been down here—what? Ten or more days?’
Meg shook her head. ‘Time moves far more slowly in a magical place like this than it does in the outside world.’
‘Why?’
‘It just does. Part of its magic. Erin has lived here for more than three hundred years.’
Chase raised an eyebrow. ‘He doesn’t look much older than Wahim.’
‘In a way he isn’t. The amber has preserved him in time. While the world outside races by, down here everything stays the same—or at least it changes very little.’
‘So how long have we been out of the world?’ asked Chase, puzzled.
‘I don’t know,’ said Meg. ‘Don’t be surprised if we’ve lost more than ten days outside.’
‘How much more?’
Meg shrugged. ‘It could be a cycle, perhaps longer.’
A frantic expression passed across his face. ‘But Passion? Jon? We can’t be away too long.’
Meg stroked Chase’s arm gently. ‘Swift will wake when she’s ready. Then we can leave.’
So many times she had dreamed of standing on a battlement with others beside her. She never saw the faces of those closest to her, but now she had a feeling she knew exactly who was there. Fate had brought her together with her grandchildren, the children of her lost son, Treasure. Swift’s and Passion’s red hair; the likeness to Button Tailor, her long-dead husband, in Chase’s features—the evidence was accumulating. The familiar people beside her on the battlement, waiting for the Demon Horsemen, were her grandchildren. For the first time in years, the dream brought a strange calm and reassurance.
There was a new dream as well. In this one, she faced A Ahmud Ki. She had stopped dreaming of him a couple of years after they had parted in Andrak—he to go to Se’Treya in search of his lost power; she to seek her daughter, Emma, and obscurity in the town of Marella—but now he reappeared and pervaded her dreams. Her last memory of him was as a slim, distinguished, silver-haired man in an Andrak suit, but in the dream he was dressed in white and even more handsome than she remembered. He was staring at her with serious grey eyes, his face set grimly, his focus on her knife. Even though she had no desire to act, against her will her hand rose and she stabbed him in the heart. Yet, oddly, he did not falter as she buried the blade in his chest. He stared silently at her and a smile graced his soft lips. He said something, words she could not decipher, and she was overcome with remorse. And she woke, sweating and saddened.
Swift was awake. Chase brought Meg the news. ‘She doesn’t remember anything,’ he said as he led Meg along the corridor, his voice echoing off the stone. ‘She seems fine otherwise.’
As they entered the chamber, Wahim nodded and Erin smiled. Swift, wrapped in a light blue sheet, was crouching to scratch Whisper under her chin. She straightened, her green eyes meeting Meg’s gaze as the older woman approached to enfold her in her arms.
‘How do you feel?’ Meg asked as they parted.
‘Like I’ve had the best sleep ever,’ Swift replied. ‘You saved my life.’
‘You’d do the same,’ Meg said quietly.
‘I don’t remember anything except the very beginning when they were shooting at me.’
‘That could be a good thing.’ Meg looked at Swift keenly, wondering whether the young woman was fully healed.
‘Is she w
ell enough to go?’ Chase asked eagerly.
Meg turned to him and spoke curtly. ‘I will see.’ But her feigned annoyance only made the others laugh and she smiled too. ‘I’m certain she’s well enough to travel,’ she announced.
‘I’ll get my things,’ Chase said, grinning.
‘You didn’t bring anything,’ Wahim teased and the group laughed again.
Meg turned back to Swift and embraced the young woman once more. Before they left, there was something she had to share with Chase and Swift, and she was unsure of how they would take the news.
The party was ready to leave, their possessions packed for the return to the outside world, and they gathered in the library’s central chamber. ‘I…’ Meg began, and hesitated. Everyone looked at her. ‘I want a few moments with Swift and Chase,’ she said, her resolution returning. Wahim and Erin nodded, and quietly withdrew from the chamber, while Whisper sat attentively at Meg’s feet. Meg drew a breath and studied the faces of the young woman and man before her. She knew she was right. The evidence was undeniable. She cleared her throat softly and said, ‘Before we go back, I have to tell you something. It’s something I’ve already hinted at, and I know you probably think I’m mad, but it’s important to me and I hope it becomes important to you.’
‘This is about you being our grandmother, isn’t it?’ Swift said.
The young woman’s bluntness startled Meg. So she has listened to me, she thought. ‘Yes,’ she said.
‘How do you know?’
There was an edge of bitterness in Swift’s question and Meg’s uncertainty threatened to return, but she was determined to resolve the matter, especially as she’d nearly lost Swift to the Kerwyn soldiers. ‘I know it’s all circumstantial, but the evidence is strong.’ She turned to Chase. ‘Your father—he called himself Trez, short for Treasure, didn’t he?’
Chase nodded, watching her intently. ‘My son’s name was Treasure. I named him after…’ She paused, memories at the edge of her reason. ‘I named him after one of the old Shessian princes.’
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