The Demon Horsemen

by Tony Shillitoe

  ‘It is like meditation,’ he said, ‘except that when you free your mind you will be allowing your brother to channel your energy along with his own. There is nothing to fear. Law intends only to open a portal to the Fallen Star Islands. Close your eyes and free your thoughts. When you feel his presence, relax. You are a child of Jarudha and Seer Law is His gentle hand.’

  He directed everyone to focus their attention on two columns at the side of the prayer hall. ‘When the portal appears, I will call you to open your eyes and gaze upon the miracle you have helped our brother create.’

  ‘And this will work?’ Scripture asked quietly as Creator finished his preparations.

  ‘Every experiment we have done thus far says it will, Your Eminence. Now we must trust in the promise of Jarudha,’ said Creator.

  Scripture offered a prayer to Jarudha for the assembled acolytes and Seers, then nodded for Creator to begin. Creator lifted his hand and the acolytes and Seers, including Law, drank the oily enlightenment. Creator had added honey to make it palatable. He called on the faithful to close their eyes and clear their minds.

  Word watched the ritual with fascination and anticipation, but flinched when he felt Law’s mind probe his own. He looked at Creator for an explanation.

  ‘You felt him too,’ the Seer murmured.

  ‘I thought we wouldn’t feel that without the enlightenment,’ Word whispered.

  ‘Enlightenment heightens the Blessing, but the mind is prey to its effects with or without it.’

  Word looked around the chamber, studying the blank faces of the acolytes in their yellow robes and his blue-robed colleagues, all of them opening their minds to Law. Then he fixed his gaze on the two columns, willing the portal to appear as it had so easily on the island. A blue light suddenly crackled into being. ‘Holy Jarudha!’ he gasped, caught between surprise and delight.

  ‘It is done,’ Law announced.

  ‘Praise Jarudha!’ Creator cried, and the acolytes and Seers echoed his sentiment as they opened their eyes.

  Scripture approached the glowing portal and stared. Seer Prayer led the rest of the Seers to join him; through the blue haze they could see a blurred image that looked like the buildings in the island settlement.

  ‘Praise Jarudha,’ Creator repeated, his eyes wide in astonishment. ‘I doubted this would ever be possible in my lifetime.’

  ‘“Doubt is never the source of miracles,”’ Scripture quoted. He looked at Law and said, ‘You have been given a Blessing of great magnitude if you can achieve this alone on the island.’

  ‘It took two of us, Your Eminence,’ Law reminded him and glanced at Word.

  ‘Will this remain here?’ Scripture asked Creator.

  ‘As long as Law chooses for it to remain,’ Creator replied. ‘My study and experiments suggest that only the person who opened the portal can close it.’

  ‘Can it be made to function both ways?’ Scripture asked.

  Creator shook his head. ‘It may be possible, Your Eminence, but I have not found a way nor read of one.’

  ‘Then let this stay here untouched for now,’ Scripture ordered. To Law he said, ‘When you return to the island through this portal you must find a place to create another permanent link to this point. This is how we will speed up the delivery of euphoria. We will cut out the ship travel.’

  ‘And the Ranu blockade will be redundant,’ said Word.

  Scripture turned to him. ‘Exactly.’

  The original portal that Law had conjured glimmered unchanged in the cave. Scripture bent to gaze into the empty space beyond, with its scattered, twisted trees. ‘And the acolyte did not return?’ he inquired.

  ‘No, Your Eminence,’ Law told him. ‘He did not have the Blessing’s strength.’

  ‘But you do.’

  Law, wary of Scripture’s intentions, hesitated before saying, ‘With help, and only on this island.’

  ‘And you don’t know where this portal goes?’

  ‘No.’

  Scripture shuffled back from the portal until he could stand upright in the cave. To his left, the portal to Port of Joy shone with an eerie but reassuring blue light. Beyond it he could see the assembled Seers he had just left. ‘This Blessing to communicate with others,’ he said, looking at Creator, ‘can it also pass through the portals?’

  Creator blinked. ‘I don’t know, Your Eminence.’

  ‘Return to the temple and communicate directly with me, if you can. Then return here.’

  ‘Yes, Your Eminence,’ Creator answered. He stepped through the portal to return to Port of Joy.

  ‘Will I need to take enlightenment to hear him?’ Scripture asked.

  ‘Not to hear him, Your Eminence, if he is able to focus on your mind,’ Prayer explained. ‘Only to reply.’

  ‘Oh,’ Scripture muttered. Prayer produced a phial of enlightenment, but Scripture waved it aside. ‘I will listen for him. That is enough.’

  The Seers waited quietly in the cave. Suddenly they heard Scripture draw in his breath sharply. ‘Can you hear him?’ Word asked.

  Scripture waved his hand for silence. A moment later he smiled and said, ‘Our brother is returning.’

  Creator reappeared. ‘It worked?’ he said expectantly.

  ‘Jarudha smiles upon us,’ Scripture replied and made the holy circle, which was mirrored by the other Seers. ‘Now we must find where this other portal leads. Who will go?’

  ‘But what if the person cannot return, like the acolyte?’ Law asked. ‘He must be able to create a return portal, and we know none of us can do that alone.’

  Scripture nodded. ‘It is a risk. Whoever serves Jarudha in this sacrifice may have to find a longer way to come home, depending on exactly where this portal leads. It looks like a barren landscape, a desert.’

  ‘It might be somewhere in Ma-Tareshka,’ said Creator. ‘That is a land with much desert.’

  ‘You would sacrifice one of us for this?’ Word challenged.

  ‘“In serving Jarudha, sacrifice is everything,”’ Scripture recited, meeting his colleague’s critical gaze. ‘We are in the Last Days. What sacrifice is not worth making?’

  Word lowered his eyes, feeling ashamed of his outburst, but he still felt doubtful about the wisdom of Scripture’s request.

  ‘Who will serve Jarudha?’ Scripture asked.

  ‘I will.’

  Everyone turned to Prayer. ‘You might not come back,’ Law warned.

  Prayer nodded. ‘I understand. But this may also be a pathway to Jarudha’s Paradise. I will be led by my faith.’

  ‘Praise be to Jarudha,’ Scripture said, his words echoed by his brethren.

  ‘You’ll need to take this,’ Creator said, handing Prayer two phials of enlightenment. ‘One you should use for communicating once you are through the portal. The other may enable you to return somehow, or give you comfort if you must undertake a long journey home.’

  Prayer accepted the gift. He signed the holy circle over Creator, saying, ‘Jarudha has given you wisdom and blessed you manifold.’ Then he bowed his head to Scripture. ‘I will communicate everything that I see and hear,’ he promised. He turned to his assembled peers and said, ‘May Jarudha keep you all in His care until we next meet.’ Then he walked towards the smaller portal, stooping beneath the low roof of the cave, and stepped through into the wasteland beyond.

  The grey dust clinging to his feet surprised Prayer, even more so when he turned and saw that his footprints vanished behind him. The sky was a perfect blue and cloudless and he felt the heat of a remorseless yet oddly invisible sun. In every direction the landscape was flat, with a dark smudge on the horizon suggesting mountains. The only anomalies were the stark, bare, twisted white trees scattered across the vista. It was a forbidding landscape, devoid of life or hope.

  Prayer made the holy sign, uncorked a phial and drank the enlightenment. He waited to feel its soothing effect tingle through his body. Then he focussed and searched for his companions’ minds—and was horri
fied when he could detect nothing at all. Several times he tried to generate contact, even narrowing his search to specific minds, but to no avail. He considered increasing his dosage of enlightenment, but reasoned he was wiser to save the second phial, and slid it inside his sky blue robe.

  No direction offered hope.

  ‘Holy Jarudha,’ he prayed, closing his eyes, ‘please give your faithful servant a sign that might lead me to sanctuary.’

  He opened them to an unchanged landscape. Then I accept whatever fate Jarudha has chosen for me, he decided, and began to traipse through the dust.

  The Seers in the cave watched Prayer’s confusion. His eventual decision to walk away stunned them.

  ‘No contact at all?’ Word asked. Creator shook his head. Scripture simply stared into the portal.

  ‘I was afraid this would happen,’ Law muttered, and he walked away from the others to stand at the mouth of the cave where he gazed into the distance.

  Word joined him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. ‘Prayer knew the consequences. He chose his faith, as we all do.’

  Law nodded but kept silent, so Word patted his friend’s shoulder reassuringly and returned to the group at the portal. As he reached them, he received an image in his head of a set of steps descending into the earth. ‘Is he—’ he began, but Scripture waved him silent so he focussed on what was forming in his mind. The contact from Prayer came in the form of images and emotions.

  Prayer crept down the stone steps, feeling a tingling along his extremities that reminded him of the effect of enlightenment in the experiments he’d carried out with Creator. He paused to open his mind and try once more to send his thoughts to his colleagues, and was delighted when he sensed several presences in his consciousness. One he recognised as his friend, Creator, and with it came an image of light. Prayer focussed on his palm until a small sphere of light appeared. His success filled him with overwhelming joy. I am with Jarudha! he projected and descended the last three steps into a passageway.

  Curious, he followed the passage to where it opened into a large circular chamber. His magical sphere illuminated a strange black lizard-like creature with wings curled along its side; his heart froze an instant until he realised it was an ebony statue. He projected an apology for his fear to his colleagues and commenced exploring the chamber. There were four exits, including the corridor through which he’d entered. He stopped as one exit began to glow with blue light, faint at first, gradually intensifying. He assumed a new portal was forming, then realised that the light, rather than filling the space, was flowing from it like water. It brightened quickly and suddenly an armoured warrior strode through it, glowing so intensely with the blue light that Prayer had to avert his eyes.

  ‘My Jarudha!’ he cried with rapture as the warrior raised a mighty burning sword above his head. ‘I have seen a Demon Horseman!’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ‘So,’ said President Ki, lowering the transcript, ‘this is the Kerwyn king’s answer?’

  ‘Yes, President,’ the ambassador replied.

  ‘He wants us to believe that the attempt on my life was orchestrated by a former Shessian warmaster.’

  The ambassador looked sheepishly at the president. ‘I have not read the contents of the letter.’

  A Ahmud Ki smiled and handed him the paper. ‘Read it, Fe’Ra. Tell me what you think.’

  The ambassador blinked as he looked up from the transcript. ‘It says exactly as you said, President.’

  ‘And you don’t think it strange that the king is blaming a man who was meant to be dead thirty years ago?’

  Fe’Ra shook his head. ‘I had never heard of this man before I read this letter.’

  ‘No,’ A Ahmud Ki said quietly. ‘You would not have known him. Sadly, for the Kerwyn king’s sake, I did, and he would not do what he is accused of here.’

  A Ahmud Ki remembered the time he had spent in Blade Cutter’s company when they were escaping the Kerwyn military and the Seers, and his last sight of the big man standing defiantly in the face of Kerwyn thundermakers while A Ahmud Ki dragged Meg to safety.

  ‘What will I do with the letter, President?’ Fe’Ra asked.

  ‘Present it to the interim Council in Yul Ki. They can discuss it and make a recommendation to be sent back to Yul Ithrandyr for consideration by the People’s Council.’

  ‘With all respect, President, that will take several weeks,’ said Fe’Ra.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And the blockade of the Kerwyn drug islands? What message shall I tell our people in Port of Joy to pass on to the Kerwyn king?’

  ‘The blockade remains. It will teach the Kerwyn king patience. For now, tell him that the blockade will stay in place until he hands over the assassin to our ambassadors. And remember, I am dying. This decision comes from the Council.’

  ‘Is it wise to lie, President?’ Fe’Ra inquired tentatively.

  ‘In this instance, Fe’Ra, yes it is.’

  Fe’Ra withdrew and A Ahmud Ki dismissed his chamber woman. When he was alone in his cabin, he hauled himself from his bed to his desk, moving gingerly despite the painkilling drugs administered morning and night by the surgeon-general. He eased into the plushly padded white leather chair and reached for a blue leatherbound book pressed between a stack of books on the desktop. He glanced at the embossed title, A Presidential Perspective: Volume 9, and his name beneath, before flipping the book open to a point just past midway. He reached for an autoscribe and began a new entry.

  Memories crowded in, making the writing difficult. The name Blade Cutter had reignited the past: the first frantic months after his release from Se’Treya, all the confusion and fear and love that came during the time he spent with Meg Farmer. So many years had passed and so much had transpired, but still he missed her. When the Ranu invasion of the Andrak nation was complete, he had searched for her, but all traces of her existence had vanished. She had so effectively merged into the Andrakian world that nothing A Ahmud Ki’s detectives and emissaries did could shed any light on her fate. The only person he knew of in Andrak who had spent time with her—Luka the dragoneer—had apparently disappeared trying to cross the Endless Sea in his dragon egg.

  Now the Kerwyn king had resurrected a ghost from the past in an attempt to hide his complicity in the assassination attempt. That the Kerwyns had tried to kill him was no longer in doubt. The only questions of interest to A Ahmud Ki now were whether Blade Cutter was still alive after so many years, and, if so, by what miracle had he survived the confrontation on the docks in Westport?

  ‘Your Council has no right!’ Shadow snarled at the Ranu ambassadors. ‘You will tell your councillors to end the blockade immediately or there will be consequences they will regret! Tell them I will hand over the assassin within ten days.’

  ‘Yes, Your Highness,’ the ambassadors chorused.

  ‘Now get out of my palace and don’t return until you can tell me that your military forces are not interfering with my land and my people!’

  ‘Yes, Your Highness,’ the ambassadors repeated, and retreated from the throne room.

  When the doors had closed, Shadow looked at the assembled Seers and his brothers, held out his arms and asked, ‘Well?’

  Gift and Lastchild got to their feet and applauded. Shadow turned to Scripture who stared back at him coldly. ‘Come on,’ Shadow pleaded humorously, ‘even you have to admit that I play the role of a petulant king with passion.’

  Scripture motioned to his colleagues to leave while he approached the throne. At the base of the five steps he said, ‘You realise that you now have to produce the old warmaster.’

  ‘Fist knows exactly where the old man was dumped. He’ll be back in chains by tomorrow afternoon and the Ranu can have him within their ten days.’

  ‘And when he denies any knowledge of the crime?’

  ‘Then he’s a very good criminal. But you fear further repercussions, don’t you?’

  ‘These Ranu are proving to be more t
han a passing nuisance.’

  ‘How are the airbirds coming along?’ Shadow asked.

  ‘Five are being manufactured to Creator’s modifications. We have commandeered two factories in the Foundry Quarter for the purpose. They will be ready by the end of the cycle.’

  Shadow nodded approval. ‘The Ranu dragon eggs will not be able to match our airbirds. At the end of the cycle, if the Ranu blockade remains, we will teach them that they are dealing with Jarudha’s chosen children. They will regret their interfering ways.’

  Scripture smiled. ‘By the end of the cycle it is possible that the airbirds will not be the only surprise awaiting the Ranu.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  Scripture glanced at Gift and Lastchild and said, ‘You will be informed when the time is ready, Your Highness.’ He bowed his head very slightly, a surprising show of deference to the king, and left the chamber.

  President Ki watched with fascination as the inventors set up the strange metal box with its silver wires and glowing white globes and wire-lightning generator on the table in his cabin. The five men fussed with a set of black knobs and watched the big white dials carefully as they adjusted various parts of the apparatus.

  For four days, A Ahmud Ki had observed the construction of a tall metal mast on the deck of the dreadnought, rope-thick restraining wires bolted to the deck every fifteen degrees of the compass to keep the odd mast upright. ‘The speaking mast enables the transmission to take place,’ one of the inventors, Mazu Ka Daneez, had explained. ‘We have built masts in Ranu Ka Shehaala, in Andrak, in Targa, and on each of the Stepping Stones Islands through to Kala to form a chain.’ The irrepressible energy of the inventors in this new age never ceased to amaze A Ahmud Ki.

  Now Mazu Ka Daneez, wearing nearseers on his nose, announced, ‘President, the farspeaker is ready. Would you like to speak into it?’

  A Ahmud Ki followed the inventor to the table where the man handed him a metallic cylinder attached by a wire to the big metal box. ‘This is the speaking wire, President. Talk into here and you will be heard in Yul Ithrandyr.’