The Dead Kingdom (Seven Citadels)

by Geraldine Harris

  The Prince rolled away just in time, as one claw scraped against the Jewel of Zeldin. Gidjabolgo crept to his side and stabbed upward. A few feathers drifted down as the Forgite gashed one wing. The injured creature flapped away, screaming in anger, while Lilahnee pounced on one of its feathers. As Gidjabolgo helped Kerish to his feet, the guardian circled them again and swooped. At the last moment, it swerved away from Forollkin's sword to attack Gidjabolgo. Kerish lunged at it, slashing one of the arms but the creature hovered over him, opening its jaws to rip at the Prince's upturned face.

  Growling with rage, Lilahnee sprang at the creature's throat. The white arms closed around her and the claws thrust deep into her green fur. Forollkin hacked at the guardian's vulnerable wings but it would not let go. The marsh cat sank her teeth into the creature's throat. With a bubbling scream the guardian struggled upwards, carrying Lilahnee clutched to its heart.

  Kerish saw the creature claw at the green furred back. Then, with a triumphant screech, it shook the marsh cat free. Lilahnee fell to the ground, writhed and lay still. Kerish would have run to her but Forollkin grabbed his arm, shouting, "Stand back to back!"

  Two more shadows swooped down from the walls. The three men leaned against each other, braced for another attack, as the creatures circled them.

  "Aim for their throats!" ordered Forollkin.

  Screaming mouths and beating wings seemed to surround them. Gidjabolgo slashed out wildly and one of the guardians caught the Forgite's cloak between its jaws, dragging him forward. Kerish hacked at its pale arms till the creature dropped the cloak and flew upwards again. Forollkin thanked Zeldin for the thick cloak wrapped around his arm when one of the guardians ducked under a thrust and clawed at his left side.

  It was Kerish who noticed the sound of hoof-beats. He twisted round and saw a pony galloping towards them. He knew its rider by the silver hair streaming out behind her. He parried a slashing claw as he watched two of the guardians fly towards her. The pony reared but Gwerath kept her seat and drew her dagger. The guardians hovered over her, driving the pony wild with panic. Then one of them swooped. Gwerath struck up at it but its long claws raked her pony's shoulder. The pony reared up, tossing its rider onto the red sand. The terrified pony galloped away but Gwerath lay still. Kerish raced towards her.

  Forollkin struck a tremendous blow that half-severed the wing of his attacker. The creature flapped clumsily away, leaving a trail of blood and feathers.

  "The girl!" gasped Gidjabolgo.

  In seconds Forollkin had understood the danger. "Guard my back," he ordered, throwing down his sword. He reached for his bow and fitted an arrow to the string.

  Dazed by her fall, Gwerath fumbled for the dagger which had been knocked from her hand. Then she heard a rush of wings and shielded her face. A moment later, Kerish threw himself in front of her, clasping his dagger with both hands. He heard the whine of an arrow as it struck the first guardian in the throat. The creature soared upwards and circled slowly, trying to pluck out the arrow with its clumsy hands.

  The second guardian was on Kerish before his brother could fire again. The Prince knelt in the shadow of the black and crimson wings and the long arms reached beyond him to strike at Gwerath. Kerish stabbed upwards with all his strength, through the feathered breast and into the heart. The creature gave one last piercing scream as he pulled out the dagger black with blood. Kerish gripped Gwerath and rolled with her to one side as the guardian crumpled to the sand.

  Still plucking at the arrow in its throat, the first creature swooped clumsily down but when Kerish held up the dripping dagger it sheered away and spiralled up into the red sky. Then the Prince heard Gidjabolgo's voice. One of the creatures still hovered above him, screaming angrily. The Forgite's dagger was no match for the sweeping wings and clawed hands. Forollkin dropped his bow and snatched up his sword. Kerish raced towards them and drops of blood burned on the sand. The guardian's dark eyes flickered towards the Prince. With a last slash at Gidjabolgo, it flew up and away from them, back to Tir-Tonar.

  "Forollkin, Gidjabolgo . . . are you hurt?"

  Leaning on his sword, Forollkin wearily shook his head. Gidjabolgo complained of a clawed arm but, though they bled profusely, the scratches were not deep. The ramparts were black with guardians but the sky was free of them.

  "They seem to fear my dagger, " said Kerish, "or their own heart's blood."

  Gwerath walked unsteadily to his side. "Are we safe from them now?"

  "I don't know. Perhaps the blood is poisonous to them . . ."

  Forollkin's angry voice interrupted him. "Gwerath! What in Zeldin's name are you doing here? I left you safely with Djezaney . . . "

  "I don't want to be safe!" shouted Gwerath. "Kerish said that this could be my quest too, so why should I be left behind? Why won't you let me help you?"

  "What help could you possibly be?" demanded Forollkin. "Gidjabolgo will escort you back to the White Hills while we go. . ."

  "Not me!" exclaimed the Forgite. "I'm staying by the Prince's dagger. All forward, or all back."

  "I won't allow it," snapped Forollkin. "Kerish, you tell . . . "

  Kerish was not there. He was kneeling beside the fallen marsh cat. Forollkin's anger suddenly drained away.

  "I suppose you'll have to stay with us Gwerath, but from now on, you obey my orders."

  Gwerath nodded meekly and all of them walked towards Kerish.

  "She wasn't quite dead when I reached her," Kerish said quietly. "She snarled at me. She didn't seem to know me."

  Gwerath's grey eyes filled with tears and Forollkin laid a tentative hand on his brother's shoulder. "She died bravely, protecting you."

  Kerish stiffened. "Do you think that makes it any easier?"

  Forollkin silently cursed himself for always saying the wrong thing. "I only meant that she would have wanted . . . "

  Kerish cut him short. "We must bury her before we go on"

  Close by lay the guardian that Kerish had killed.

  "Look!" The Prince had knelt and was ruffling the feathers at its throat. "It wears a collar."

  They all stooped and saw the silver collar inscribed in Seldian.

  "Acanoth," read Kerish. "Do you think that's its name? Forollkin, would you bring Lilahnee here? We'll bury them together."

  "But one of those creatures killed her!" protested Gwerath.

  "And died defending her master, like Lilahnee. Will anyone help me?”

  They all scrabbled in the sand to dig a shallow pit around the dead guardian. Then Forollkin brought Lilahnee's limp green body and laid it on a bed of black and crimson feathers. Kerish closed the golden eyes and stroked the glossy fur, now matted with blood, for the last time. He threw the first handful of sand over her and walked away. Forollkin and Gidjabolgo filled in the grave.

  Kerish held up his blood-stained dagger and, keeping close together, they approached the walls of Tir-Tonar. In the shadow of the citadel, it suddenly seemed cold. They stared up anxiously at the creatures that clung to unseen cracks in the crimson stone. The guardians continued their eerie shrieking. They ruffled their wings and flexed their clawed hands, but they did not move from the summit of the walls. Kerish glanced to left and right along the smooth curve of the crimson rampart but could see no entrance. The blood on his dagger was almost dry and he wondered how much longer it would keep the guardians back.

  They set off, walking sunwise round the walls, bunched together and always looking upwards, waiting for a new attack. As the minutes passed, the guardians became more and more restless and Kerish ached with tension. Then, at last, they came to a dark crack in the crimson walls. It ran from the red sands to the very top of the ramparts and guardians were clinging all the way up.

  "Through there?" whispered Gwerath, instinctively lifting her arms to shield her head. Forollkin nodded.

  "I'll go first, follow me closely," said Kerish.

  The lowest of the creatures was no more than five feet above their heads and one of its cla
wed hands hung loose against the crimson stone.

  With the Jewel of Zeldin in his left hand and the dagger in his right, Kerish half ran through the crack. The others stumbled after him with bowed heads. Every guardian along the walls gave a scream of desolation and rose in flight. Their wings darkened the sky and the travellers dropped to their knees, their hands clasped to their ears.

  The screams stabbed at Kerish but after a moment he forced himself to hold the dagger steady and look up. The guardians were flying away from Tir-Tonar, dipping and circling over the Red Waste. The travellers were alone on a crimson terrace that seemed to encircle the citadel inside the ramparts. One by one they stood up and looked about them. At the heart of Tir-Tonar stood a slender tower but between the tower and the terrace stretched a vast, stone maze.

  "I think we should make for that crimson tower," said Kerish.

  "Through that?" Gidjabolgo pointed down at the maze.

  They were not high enough to see into more than a few of the passages and courtyards below but each of them had already filled the maze with private terrors.

  "Well, forward then," said Forollkin, "before those creatures come back."

  "No," Kerish turned to his cousin. "Gwerath. Please stay here, on the edge of the maze. I don't doubt your courage, but it would be better if you and the others didn't come any further. I'll go on alone to find Saroc."

  "I won't be left behind," repeated Gwerath. "You would never have escaped from the Sheyasa without me. That gives me a right to share your quest!"

  "No-one disputes that," said Kerish patiently, "but all three of you should stay here. . . "

  "I'll not stay," growled Gidjabolgo. "I have a word or two to say to Saroc."

  "And I'm not letting you face another sorcerer alone," protested Forollkin.

  "But Gwerath mustn't . . . "

  "She's come of her own free will," said Forollkin irritably. "There's no help for it now."

  "Forollkin, I order you to stay here and . . . "

  "Order me? I seem to remember you swearing to obey my orders from now on."

  "Yes, I remember too."

  "Kerish, don't look like that. I didn't mean to remind you . . . " Forollkin rested a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Now we're all here, we ought to go on together. It's too dangerous to split up."

  "If you've finished quarrelling," said Gidjabolgo, "look over there!"

  He pointed towards the crimson tower. At its base lay a cloud-like mass of white, shot through with particles of gold.

  "That wasn't there a moment ago!" exclaimed Forollkin.

  "It's beautiful," whispered Gwerath.

  As she spoke the cloud seemed to crawl across the maze towards them.

  "Beware of beauty in a sorcerer's citadel," said Gidjabolgo.

  They descended the narrow staircase that led into the maze.

  Chapter 2

  The Book of the Emperors: Proverbs

  Midnight is pale beside the darkness of the mind.

  At first there were only empty passages, walled and paved in polished crimson stone. It was almost bright enough to give back a clear reflection and Kerish walked in fear of his own image. As the passages twisted and divided even Forollkin began to lose his sense of direction. Faint, continuous rustling, hissings and whisperings, never very close but never far off, made them all uneasy. They were not alone in the maze but whatever it was that made the noises was always on the other side of one of the high stone walls. They had walked for almost an hour before they came on a small courtyard and had their first sight of the creatures of the maze.

  Stone flowers sprang up from cracks in the crimson floor and the air was rich with their scent. Amongst the flowers browsed the beasts of Saroc. Some of them were beautiful, but most were grotesque. One had an almost human face, framed by a green mane, and a sleek golden body; a second clattered across the stones on cloven hooves, its purple plumage streaked with white; a third had a spotted coat and a reptilian head, made ludicrous by its drooping ears; a fourth had a cat-like body but was beaked and winged like a bird of prey. Each beast wore a crimson collar inscribed with its name and they stared at the travellers with huge mournful eyes.

  Kerish held up his bloodstained dagger, while the others got as close to him as they could. Opposite them the passage wound on but to reach it they would have to cross the courtyard.

  "Let me go first," said Kerish and, before Forollkin could disagree, he had stepped amongst the stone flowers. A spiny beast with long, yellow tusks lumbered towards him. Kerish brandished the dagger and the creature paused for a moment in obvious puzzlement and then came on. Forollkin drew his sword and moved towards his brother but Kerish stretched out his left hand and then stood quite still. The beast sniffed at the Prince's fingers and then began to lick them. A furred serpent coiled itself around Kerish's ankles, purring loudly. He smiled and sheathed his dagger.

  "They're not going to harm us."

  Forollkin was much more wary. He backed away from the shaggy blue creature that gently butted his legs but Gwerath stroked the one-eyed beast that nuzzled her hand and Gidjabolgo ruffled the feathers of a two-headed bird. It took them some time to make their way across the courtyard, pushing aside the friendly beasts. Once all four travellers had reached the passage, the beasts seemed to lose interest and returned to browsing on the scent of the stone flowers. Gwerath looked back at them."Can Saroc be as cruel as the Seldians say, if he keeps such gentle creatures?"

  Nobody answered her. They walked quickly down the empty passageway, less troubled now by the noises of the maze. After a few minutes they came to a second courtyard, with a floor that seemed to be made of black ice. As Forollkin tested its strength with one foot, the chill of the ice struck up, even through his boot. He beckoned to the others to follow him round the edge of the courtyard, leaning against one wall to stop themselves falling on the slippery black surface.

  Half-way across, Kerish noticed a patch of clear ice. He knelt down to peer into the blackness and glimpsed a white shape whirling desperately beneath the ice, searching for a way out. Then Forollkin spotted a network of fine cracks spreading across the ice and hurried his companions to the safety of the further passage. Kerish lingered for a moment, half hoping and half dreading that the white shape would break through the surface.

  "Is it the ice or your wits melting?" called back Gidjabolgo.

  Kerish jumped as if he had been slapped and ran after the others.

  Ten minutes' fast walking brought the travellers to a third courtyard which contained nothing but three tall statues in dull grey stone. The statues seemed to be unfinished. The hands were not divided into fingers and the faces had no eyes. Kerish was gripped by the idea that there were living creatures trapped inside the half-carved stone and that the unknown sculptor had stopped work because he was afraid of freeing them. Forollkin stepped confidently into the courtyard and three blind heads turned towards him.

  The young Galkian moved back twice as fast but the nearest statue took one slow step after him. It stretched out its fingerless hands, moving them from side to side as if it was feeling its way. Then, in the far distance, a silver bell sounded the hour. With a grinding of stone, the statue turned and bowed. The other figures bowed ponderously back and they began a clumsy dance.

  "Now!" whispered Kerish. He grabbed Gwerath's arm and ran with her across the courtyard, dodging past the stone figures, who seemed too absorbed in their dance to notice them. Forollkin and Gidjabolgo followed and reached the passage just as the bell stopped ringing. On the last chime the statues bowed to each other and then three blind heads turned towards the travellers again.

  Gidjabolgo broke into a trot and the others soon overtook him. Forollkin led them, taking right or left turns at random, alert for the first sound of slow, inexorable footsteps behind them, but he heard nothing except the ever present whispering. Round a bend in the passage they suddenly came on a fourth courtyard. Gidjabolgo leaned against a wall, getting his breath back, while the oth
ers stared into the silent courtyard. It was paved with alternating slabs of black and crimson and on each of the black squares lay a huge, glittering jewel. The courtyard seemed innocent enough but the travellers were wary now.

  "I'll go first," said Kerish and this time Forollkin didn't argue. As the Prince stepped onto the first of the red squares, the jewel on the black slab beside it burst into a pillar of blue flame. He flinched away, not from heat but from an intense cold and the shower of blue sparks that fell on his clothes and skin were like slivers of ice.

  "Come back!" shouted Forollkin but Kerish was already stepping diagonally onto the next red slab. The jewels lying on the black slabs to either side of it flared up and blue flames licked at the edge of his cloak. He twitched it on to the red square, but the hem of the cloak was already heavy with ice. He stooped to snap off the frozen silk, rubbed some warmth into his numbed fingers and called back to the others. "I think it's safe if you keep to the red squares."

  He moved diagonally across the courtyard, lighting the blue flames at every step and the others followed cautiously. Gwerath came first, treading delicately; Gidjabolgo next, still breathing heavily, and Forollkin last, checking his long stride to keep within the red squares. By the time they reached the passage they were all shivering with cold but as Forollkin stepped off the last red slab the blue flames flickered, sank down and disappeared. The jewels lay glimmering innocently again on the smooth black squares. As they walked on, Kerish tried not to think about what would have happened to him if he'd trodden first on black stone and tried to pick up a jewel.

  After a few minutes, the travellers began to notice a gentle breeze blowing through the maze and Kerish thought he heard birdsong amongst the rustles and whispers. They took a left turn and were suddenly confronted by a fifth courtyard. Larger than the others, it was paved and walled in a warm golden stone and appeared to be quite empty. Forollkin moved hesitantly forward and then stopped so suddenly that Gwerath bumped into him.