The Demon Horsemen

by Tony Shillitoe

  When she reached the large wooden doors that opened into the inner sanctum, the main hall of the temple, she listened for noises that would betray the presence of others, but the temple was silent. She had expected silence but still it unnerved her. Warily, she pushed on a door until she could see into the circular room with its pillars supporting the domed ceiling—and stared in astonishment at her discovery. Glowing between two pillars was an unmistakeable portal guarded by three acolytes. The portal’s presence threw her plans into disarray. She hadn’t expected the Seers to have such ability. Only someone using the amber could generate a portal. What had changed? Or had the Seers obtained a gem? Erin said that there were only two remaining.

  Her heart raced and she leaned against the stone, its cool, rough texture pressed against her arm. And where does the portal go? she wondered. She was about to risk a closer look when she was distracted by faint sounds.

  Whisper scampered around the curve in the corridor. Coming, the rat projected and an image of men in blue robes formed in Meg’s mind. Hide.

  Meg followed the rat, moving silently on her bare feet across the cold, smooth stone tiles until Whisper stopped outside a door and announced, No one. Meg tried the handle, found it unlocked, and entered with Whisper at her feet.

  Inside, she waited in darkness. When the corridor remained silent she risked creating a tiny light sphere, just enough to ascertain the chamber’s dimensions and contents. It was austere, with a single plank bed against a windowless wall and the holy circle etched into the stone above the bed head—a Seer’s chamber, apparently unused.

  The Seers could fashion portals. The discovery niggled at her, warning her that much more had happened than she had predicted in the time since her last encounter with the Jarudhan disciples. More than ever, she needed to find the sword hilt. If Inheritor’s word was reliable, then the canvas bag was locked away in the temple somewhere. She had to find it.

  She doused her magic sphere and listened at the door. Satisfied no one was in the corridor, she eased the door open and peered out. Whisper slid through the gap and sat up on her haunches, sniffing, and projected an image of the Seers standing beside the portal in the main hall.

  How am I going to do this? Meg pondered. One option was to appear before the Seers and bluff them with her potency. It was a dramatic, aggressive approach, but it might be enough to frighten them into handing over the canvas bag. Unlikely, she conceded. First she had to isolate and deal with the leader, the Seer who went by the title of His Eminence—Scripture. She hadn’t met the man, but in her time as Batty Booker she’d heard of him. He was the key.

  Coming, Whisper warned and scampered along the corridor away from the main hall’s entrance. Meg assessed the situation. There was nowhere to hide. Remembering how she used to camouflage herself while hunting animals in the bush around Summerbrook as a teenager, she pressed against the stone wall and imagined herself blending into it. It was a spell she’d never tried so the risk was great. If it didn’t work, she would be forced to adopt the first option—confrontation.

  Several men in light blue Seer robes appeared in the corridor, talking quickly, all deferring to one man at the centre who waved them away dismissively. As the group fragmented, most of the men heading away from Meg’s hiding place, the individual she assumed to be Scripture began a conversation with his remaining white-haired colleague. The two men strolled past her, neither noticing her. When they were almost out of sight around the curve of the corridor, she disengaged from the wall and crept after them, aware that Whisper was slinking along the base of the wall like a tiny shadow.

  The Seers halted outside a door like the one to the chamber she’d been in earlier. With their sky blue robes, their long white hair and beards, they looked like twins. She amplified her hearing to eavesdrop on their conversation.

  ‘Once the Ranu have seen the airbirds, what will they do?’ one man was asking.

  ‘I don’t know,’ the other Seer replied. ‘They might see that our invention exceeds theirs and withdraw.’

  The first shook his head. ‘I doubt that. The Ranu president is used to winning battles. At best the airbirds and your star-reachers will give us time. Our future is in Shadow’s hands.’

  ‘There are always—’

  ‘No!’ the second interrupted, holding up his hand. ‘Don’t speak of them.’

  The first man lowered his head, prompting the second to put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Creator, my brother, you are Jarudha’s true disciple. What you have done with your Blessing has been miraculous. You have found answers to the problems that perplexed our predecessors for generations. Now it is time to do what you can to stop the Ranu from interfering. If Jarudha is kind, He will ensure that what you have invented will be enough. If He decides there are more trials ahead for us, then we will face them as we have always faced them.’

  Creator lifted his head and made a holy circle before the other man. ‘I have a poor Blessing,’ he said quietly. ‘It is you who are truly blessed of all of us.’ He turned and walked to the next door in the corridor and entered his chamber. The remaining Seer stared after his colleague for a short time before he also opened his door and withdrew from the corridor.

  Meg crept across the intervening space to listen at the first door. Within, she could hear the sounds of someone shifting a chair and probably sitting. To Whisper she projected Wait, then she turned the handle and walked in. The Seer was at a small desk with a mound of books at one side and an autoscribe lying across a scatter of pages. He looked up as if struggling to comprehend why an old woman with white hair in a green smock would suddenly appear in his chamber.

  ‘Don’t get up,’ she said, an edge of warning in her calm voice. ‘And don’t call for guards. It would only complicate matters.’

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked warily.

  ‘I think you know the answer to that question, Scripture,’ she replied.

  The Seer blinked as if he had misunderstood her reply. ‘I’m not who you think I am.’

  ‘I saw how the others deferred to you,’ Meg said as she approached the desk, watching for any attempt on his behalf to do something rash. ‘Perhaps you’d prefer it if I called you Your Eminence.’

  ‘That is not my title,’ he corrected.

  ‘Then what is it?’

  He held up his hands to show that he wasn’t making a threatening move and slowly stood, saying, ‘You are very mistaken, whoever you are. I’m Seer Word. Now that you know who I am, perhaps you’ll tell me who you are.’

  Meg studied the face before her. Close to her own age, she guessed. His white beard and moustache blended with his long white hair, but he had sparklingly energetic blue eyes that complemented his blue Seer’s robe. His skin was etched with lines of tiredness and time.

  ‘Where is Scripture?’ she said.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked again.

  ‘Where is Scripture?’ she repeated.

  ‘His Eminence is unwell. He isn’t seeing anyone,’ he told her flatly. ‘I asked you to identify yourself.’

  ‘Take me to Scripture,’ she ordered.

  ‘Not until you tell me who you are and how you got in here.’

  For the first time, she noticed the amber crystal hanging from a silver chain around the Seer’s neck and she hesitated. How did he get a crystal? What does that mean for me?

  ‘I’m…Batty Booker,’ she replied. ‘I asked to be let in because His Eminence wants a book I have.’

  ‘Who let you in?’ Word demanded.

  ‘Enough games,’ she said bluntly. ‘Take me to Scripture now.’

  She raised her hand, assessing what spell to use to make the Seer obey her, and realised that he seemed distracted. His weak response to her threat made her less confident. ‘Don’t stall any longer. I am more than you imagine,’ she warned, and winced at the overly dramatic statement. But she had to bluff the man into obedience somehow.

  ‘As you wish,’ Word said. ‘This way,’ and he walked past her to the
door.

  As he turned the handle, Meg heard Others! in her head, a sharp warning from Whisper. Going!

  Word wrenched the door open to reveal more Seers outside. He turned to her, his face grave, and said, ‘I think the situation has changed. And I don’t need to ask who you are. I think I know.’

  ‘Don’t make a foolish mistake,’ she warned, lifting her hand slowly.

  He smiled grimly and moved his left hand to the amber gem on his necklet. ‘We all have one,’ he said. ‘It would be you who’d be making the foolish mistake.’

  She assessed the merit of his threat. Erin had told her there were only two surviving shards of the Genesis Stone, so it was impossible for the Seers to have one, let alone five—unless Erin was wrong. She lowered her hand and met Word’s steady gaze, noticing the sweat on his forehead. Perhaps he was bluffing.

  ‘Now what?’ she asked calmly.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  ‘Both ships, President,’ General Shakir reported, his face unable to mask his alarm. ‘And the entire garrison. There’s nothing left of the settlement except dust.’

  President Ki turned from the captain’s table where he’d assembled his military leaders, paced to the porthole and gazed across the deep blue ocean towards the small aberrations on the horizon marking the Fallen Star Islands. He intended to return there, despite the news, because it was a treasure house of the euphoria plants and the source of his potentially renewed power. He turned back to his trusted advisors and the messenger and asked, ‘Do you have any indication of what caused this destruction?’

  ‘There were no survivors, President,’ Admiral Nazul replied. ‘Eyewitnesses quite some distance away described a storm front suddenly appearing above the islands and a great deal of lightning. The storm front evaporated as quickly as it appeared.’

  ‘Some new weapon the Kerwyn have developed,’ suggested General Shalam.

  ‘Perhaps,’ A Ahmud Ki agreed.

  ‘So?’ asked Shalam. ‘What will we do?’

  ‘The Council has to be informed,’ said Shakir. ‘This is a good reason to invade the Kerwyn land.’

  ‘No,’ said A Ahmud Ki, raising his hand. ‘We won’t share this news with the Council.’ He approached the table and looked down at the unfurled regional map. ‘We all know the elections are underway. The people need a touch of glory, something special to ensure the election result favours us.’ He looked up at the leaders of his army and navy. ‘I propose we strike immediately against the Kerwyn and then inform the Council of our victory when the job is done. The people have always respected me because I have been strong and decisive whenever strength and determination were needed. We will remind them why they still need me.’

  ‘But we can talk to Council via the farspeaker,’ Shakir suggested. ‘I’m sure they’d agree to your proposal.’

  A Ahmud Ki fixed Shakir with his grey eyes. ‘It’s a shame the invention is not working as well as we would like it to work,’ he said with deliberate emphasis.

  Shakir nodded understanding.

  ‘My ships are at your command, President,’ said Admiral Nazul.

  General Shalam smiled. ‘When do we begin?’

  A Ahmud Ki smiled in return. ‘Now.’

  News that a Ranu armada was heading towards Port of Joy reached the city a day before the Ranu ships did. The Ranu ambassadors had already sailed out of the city in the pre-dawn hours the day that word of the impending attack was delivered to King Shadow, but he got some satisfaction from arresting all Ranu merchants and traders still in the city. He stalked the palace, issuing orders to messengers who ran to complete their commissions while the Kerwyn defences were marshalled by Warlord Fist. Shadow had hoped from the outset to avoid war, but the Ranu had decided otherwise. He sent an envoy to convey to the Ranu anchored outside the harbour that if one Ranu soldier set foot on Kerwyn soil, one Ranu bullet or thunderclap landed on Port of Joy, every Ranu man, woman and child under Kerwyn arrest would be put to the sword. The envoy dutifully delivered the king’s warning, but he did not return.

  ‘What now, brother?’ Prince Lastchild asked as he stood beside Shadow, who was gazing west towards the fleet of Ranu ships and the four hulking dreadnoughts accompanying them.

  ‘Is this when I get to be king?’ Gift asked.

  Shadow turned to his youngest brother and smiled. ‘Can’t wait to see me dead, can you?’

  ‘I never said anything about you having to be dead,’ Gift retorted. ‘You promised that if the Ranu invaded and you left, I could be king.’

  Shadow laughed. ‘Fetch Scripture and his cronies,’ he said. ‘The Seers owe me. For once, they can fight beside the king instead of behind his back as they always did when my father and grandfather were on the throne.’

  Crestfallen to be treated as a mere messenger, Gift stormed from the battlements grumbling about liars.

  ‘He won’t be reliable,’ Lastchild said.

  ‘He won’t live long enough to be a problem,’ Shadow replied nonchalantly. Lastchild stared at the king. ‘Don’t be so mistrustful,’ Shadow added. ‘I won’t have him killed. He’s our brother, after all. But he’ll go to his death willingly when I invite him to.’

  ‘What do you think the Ranu will do?’ Lastchild asked.

  ‘I think your answer is right there.’

  Lastchild followed Shadow’s direction and spotted the white fabric billowing on the decks of the four dreadnoughts. ‘Aerial assault.’

  ‘I’ve reliable information that it was their tactic against the Kalan army,’ Shadow informed his brother. ‘Now we’ll see if the Seers’ experiments have any worth.’

  ‘Your Highness?’ a voice interrupted.

  Shadow turned to the herald who was preceding Warlord Fist and a dozen soldiers in red uniform. ‘You should be at the head of your army,’ Shadow snarled as Fist reached him.

  Fist saluted before replying, ‘The army is deployed and ready to face the invaders, Your Highness. The Ranu will be in for some surprises. With Your Highness’s permission I would like to set up a star-reacher battery along the palace rampart. The position provides an excellent defence for the harbour should the Ranu decide to send in any of their ships. And the star-reachers will help defend the palace against aerial attack.’

  ‘Star-reachers?’ Shadow inquired.

  ‘A gift from the Seers, Your Highness,’ Fist explained. ‘Word sent Creator and several acolytes to me yesterday when the news broke about the Ranu. I didn’t know about the new invention either. Creator is fitting two to each of the new airbird flyers.’

  ‘Why haven’t I been shown these star-reachers?’ Shadow asked.

  ‘Now is as good a time to see them as any, Your Highness. Do I have your permission?’

  ‘Of course,’ Shadow said. ‘Do whatever you need to do to keep these Ranu pigs off our land.’

  Fist saluted and strode away to give instructions to his troops. Shadow gazed seaward again, at his enemy. It wasn’t so long since the Ranu had been his allies, helping him to usurp the throne from Inheritor. Where are you now, brother? he wondered. The prince’s body had never been found after the assassination attempt and it still niggled at him.

  From the bridge of the dreadnought, A Ahmud Ki watched the dragon egg expanding with hot air and the soldiers in their crisp white uniforms marshalling on the deck. His assembled armada of four dreadnoughts and thirty sailing vessels carried twenty thousand battle-hardened troops, twenty dragon eggs and a host of military vehicles and weapons—more than enough to overrun the Kerwyn capital and establish a firm foothold in the kingdom. The first air assault would drop troops directly into the palace to quickly capture the city’s political heart. If the first assault resulted in the capture or death of the Kerwyn king and the Seers, so much the better because it would hasten the Kerwyn capitulation. He seriously doubted that outcome would be achieved, however. After the initial air assault, a second air raid would involve the dragon eggs dropping thunderclaps on key city landmarks. The ensuing cha
os among the civilian population was certain to cause the Kerwyn army to surrender or withdraw from the city. The tactic had worked in the taking of Kala and in other places before that. Ranu military superiority was unquestionable.

  The soldiers cheered when the elongated white balloon of the dragon egg reached its full capacity, and the first squads eagerly clambered into the wooden carriage, spoiling for battle. The dreadnought captains were keen to pummel the city with barrages from their huge deck-mounted peacemakers, but A Ahmud Ki urged that they hold the full extent of their power in reserve. Thus, if an unforeseen event slowed the course of the inevitable outcome, the Ranu could create greater devastation to convince the Kerwyn that resistance was pointless.

  ‘All is going well,’ remarked Admiral Nazul as he joined the president. ‘Even the weather is good.’

  ‘There’s a storm brewing to the north,’ A Ahmud Ki noted. ‘We have a day to make an impact. After that, it will be a hard slog for our soldiers on the ground.’

  ‘They’re keen,’ said Nazul. ‘They get edgy if they’re too long at sea.’

  ‘We all get edgy,’ A Ahmud Ki replied. ‘Any news?’

  ‘Our spies have been quiet.’

  ‘Not a good sign.’

  ‘There’s a lot going on in the city,’ the admiral explained. ‘It’s hard to find a safe hiding place to transmit from.’

  ‘The farspeaker is a clumsy invention.’

  ‘For now. I’ve heard the inventors intend to make it smaller.’

  A Ahmud Ki watched the dragon egg rise from the dreadnought’s deck, the drivers and pullers clattering as the windwheels pushed the vessel forward. Three more dragon eggs were soon airborne, gaining altitude as they turned and began the short journey towards the bluff where the Kerwyn palace stood. The Kerwyn king had tried to have him assassinated and had dared to sink two of his dreadnoughts. He was a desperate and crude man, a leader of the old order, a barbarian. The Kerwyn people would appreciate the modernisation of their culture that this short war would bring. I will be their saviour, A Ahmud Ki mused, satisfied with the concept. And I will again be the hero of the republic.