by Joshua Khan
“Please,” she started, “I am the same as you. Living or dead, what difference is there between us but breath? We are one; we are Gehennish. I love my country, and I know you do, too.” She turned to look at the endless multitude of jewel spiders before them. “Help me save it.”
And then the spiders attacked.
“Is that the fastest you can go?” Thorn was bent down against Hades, trying to reduce the wind resistance as much as he could. “Maybe I should get off and push?”
Hades was too busy flying to snap.
Thorn glanced back. Then wished he hadn’t.
Colossal mountains of cloud sank earthward. The webs strained, stretched, and finally snapped, unable to hold the Tempest together as the dreamers woke and the magic failed. Violent vortexes of air clashed all around them, and Hades cried out as they threatened to tear off his wings in their fury.
“Over there!” yelled Thorn, pointing at a minute tumbling shape. They flew into the heart of a storm.
There Gabriel was, in his shining white suit, screaming and flapping his arms like he belonged to the Feathered Council.
“Want a lift?” Thorn shouted.
“Save me!” Gabriel yelled.
Hades swooped under Gabriel, slowing just enough to allow Thorn to grab the falling boy.
Gabriel landed on the bat, facing Thorn. He locked his arms around Thorn’s waist and sobbed with relief.
Thorn patted him on the back. “There, there.”
Hades twitched his shoulder.
“What?” Thorn didn’t understand.
Then he did.
Hades threw out his wings to their widest span and angled them as they broke free of the clouds. They emerged only yards above the battlefield, and the giant bat pulled up short.
The sudden halt flung Thorn’s stomach up into his throat.
Hades roared over the fighting, above the spear tips, and dipped to snatch a jewel spider in his claws. He ripped its head off and tossed it back into the fray, to the cheers of the Black Guard.
Fighting in a blizzard—was there anything worse?
Thorn shielded his eyes and tried to make sense of it.
The battle had degenerated into a desperate brawl. There were small groups of Black Guard fighting, scattered over the battlefield and with no discipline at all. Some rode horses, but most slogged away on foot, swinging their weapons at the jewel spiders. Villagers had joined, too, using their spades, tree axes, and whatever else they could use to bash the crystalline monsters. Thorn saw many, many sleeping figures, warriors who’d succumbed to the spiders.
Then there were others marching. Thorn had to shake his head to make sure he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing. Row upon row of zombies. Slowly, step by step, they plodded forward, armed no better than the villagers. Spiders crawled over them, but that didn’t stop them. Their venom didn’t work on undead.
Every few yards, the zombies halted, raised their weapons, and smashed everything before them. They beat down the spiders until they were nothing but sparkling dust.
And behind the zombies was Lily, along with a bunch of squires and Old Colm. One of the squires blew a horn, a rally call. Thorn watched the Black Guard break off and run toward them, joining the fight alongside the undead.
“Put me down!” Thorn told Hades.
Hades landed on a small knoll near a cluster of squires. Thorn clambered off. “You all right?”
“A bit shaken, and I think I need to change my trousers,” said Gabriel.
“I was asking the bat.”
Hades gave Thorn what was probably a grin.
“Good. Now get back inside the castle.”
The grin vanished, and an evil frown replaced it.
“No, I mean it. Go find Dr. Byle, and get yourself patched up.” Thorn looked upward. “The rest of this fight’s gonna be on the ground, Hades.” Thorn gave the bat a gentle slap. “Go on.”
Hades hesitated, then flapped his wings. He hovered over them for a moment and, with one mighty thrust, vanished into the roof of mist.
The cloud ship was now fifty or more falling fluffy rocks. Webs sparkled, and more jewel spiders fell. In another few minutes, everyone on it would hit the earth. Then what?
Thorn didn’t have a weapon, only the sliced-off fang. He inspected it, being careful of the venom still coating it.
A squire ran up to him, his companions a few paces behind, all of them armed with bows. “We’re glad to see you, Thorn. What should we do now?”
“Shaitan, isn’t it?” Thorn tucked the tooth back into his belt. “Stay here and keep an eye on him.” He gestured to Gabriel. “Whatever he tells you to do, don’t do it.”
Gabriel puffed up his chest. “I am a noble, and I am in command. I demand—”
A snowball flew out of the crowd and smacked Gabriel in his big open mouth.
Thorn took Shaitan’s bow from him. “Thanks.”
“Hey!”
Thorn held out his hand. “Arrows. Now.”
Swearing quietly to himself, the squire reluctantly handed over his quiver.
Thorn felt his whole self relax. A bow. A fistful of arrows. Now he could take on anything.
He ran into the battle.
“Forward!” Lily shouted.
The Mantle of Sorrows shimmered with dark patterns. Faces appeared in the phantasmal cloth, ancient and long forgotten. It was alive and amplifying Lily’s power so she could command her army of undead.
The ground shook as the zombies paced forward, their feet trampling the smaller jewel spiders. Some spiders scuttled between the zombies or through their legs only to find Old Colm and his squires waiting; they brought down their shovels and hammers until the snow was littered with broken crystal bodies and shattered glass legs.
“Stop!” commanded Lily.
The zombies did, all at once. They raised their weapons.
“Smash!”
The jewel spiders ran and scurried, but the zombies beat and beat until they caught them. Some of Lily’s troops grabbed them with their bare hands and, immune to the spider bites, plucked off legs and tossed the spiders aside for the others—the living—to finish the job.
“Lily!”
Who was that? She shielded her eyes against the biting wind and searched the snow.
“Lily!”
A figure stumbled through the deep snow, waving at her.
Her heart burst with joy. “Thorn!”
She gave him the sort of hug Dott would have been proud of, one to crush the air out of him. Then she cupped his cold face and kissed him. A few of the squires cheered.
Thorn blushed as he pulled himself free. “Why’d you do that for? In front of everybody? And what have you done to your hair?”
Lily couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “Did you find the cloud ship? Where is it?”
Thorn stuck his thumb up.
Lily looked. “Oh. I’ve never seen clouds falling before.”
“I destroyed the webs,” said Thorn. “Without them holding it together…well, you can see. We’ve got about a minute before your brother and his two sorcerer friends drop in.”
“I’ll make sure you’re well rewarded for this, Thorn.”
His blush deepened. “You know I didn’t do it for no reward.”
Snow flurries spun around them. The wind rose greater than before, and Lily saw some fire whirls, too, as fragments of the Tempest descended. Dott grabbed her. “Come, Prin’ess! Big storm comin’!”
Lily reached for Thorn. “We need to take shelter.”
“You go, I’ll follow.” Thorn flicked out an arrow.
She knew that look on his face. The calm and focus that came over him when he had a bow in his hand and a target in his sights.
“Come on, Thorn. It’s too dangerous.”
He shook his head. “I’ve got one more thing to take care of, Lily. I won’t be long.” Within a few paces, he had disappeared into the whiteout.
“Thorn!”
The
last of the cloud ship crumbled as it struck the ground, finally dissolving into wild, churning fog laced with the broken threads of webs. A blizzard swept over the battlefield, and Thorn curled up, clinging on to his weapons. He glimpsed zombies tumbling in the chaos, horses struggling vainly against gales that came from every direction.
Thorn had no idea how long it took, but eventually the wind weakened. Thorn pulled himself out of a drift and shook the snow off.
After this, he was going to move to the Sultanate of Fire and live with K’leef. He’d had enough of snow to last him a dozen long lifetimes.
All around him the world had turned into a featureless void.
The wind dropped, and people began to crawl out of the snow in ones and twos.
Nearby was a cocoon, and it was moving. A muffled voice called from inside, and Thorn tore it open to reveal a gasping woman underneath. She blinked and looked around. “I had this wonderful dream….”
Are all the dreamers awake now?
Then, from behind him, he heard, “All your fault…all your fault…”
Thorn spun around, an arrow nocked and aimed in a heartbeat.
Weaver shuffled toward him, jerking forward on his right leg, dragging his left. His forehead was bruised and his clothes were torn, but otherwise he seemed unhurt. There was no sign of the other two sorcerers.
Thorn got up close to him. “It’s over, Weaver. You lost.”
Weaver snarled, and Thorn readied to shoot. At less than ten yards, he couldn’t miss, and there’d be no time for any tricks from the sorcerer. They both knew it. Weaver raised his good right hand. “I surrender.”
“Surrender?” Thorn kept the arrow drawn. “This is an act.”
Weaver shook his head. “No. Take me to Lilith Shadow.”
Thorn didn’t move. The arrow stayed aimed at Weaver’s heart.
Weaver took Thorn’s silence as refusal. “I will surrender and swear an oath of undying loyalty,” the sorcerer went on. “I shall be her faithful servant.”
Thorn just needed to slip his thumb and the arrowhead would end it all. “Is this the same oath you swore to House Typhoon?”
“What?” Weaver’s eyes narrowed.
“You swore to serve House Typhoon, didn’t you? Then you abandoned your masters, stole the ship, and came here. Ain’t that right?”
Weaver hesitated. “That was completely different….”
Thorn had never killed a man before. But every instinct in him was screaming to do it this once. “And you said you’d never serve anyone ever again.”
Weaver met his gaze. “So what are you planning to do? Shoot me? You think Lilith will be happy about you killing her brother? Her only remaining brother?”
“Half brother. And you’ll betray her the first chance you get.”
Weaver smiled but said nothing.
Thorn shot.
The arrow skimmed the side of Weaver’s head and thrummed into a tree trunk a few yards behind him.
He clutched his bleeding ear and narrowed his eyes, those fierce gray eyes. “You’ll pay for that.”
Thorn threw the bow away. “You’ve got nothing but hate in you, Weaver. But Lily refuses to see it. She wants a family so badly.”
Weaver shuffled up to him. “Oh, I shall play the dutiful brother, you’ll see.”
“Right up to the moment you stab her in the back, right?”
Weaver’s cruel, cold gaze told Thorn all he needed to know.
The sorcerer stumbled in the deep snow and held out his hand. “Please help me up, Thorn. I’m just a poor cripple after all.”
Thorn took it and pulled him closer. “I won’t have you hurt Lily.”
Weaver responded with his hissing laugh. “And how exactly do you intend to stop me, peasant?”
Thorn locked his grip. “Like this.” He stabbed the sorcerer’s hand with the spider fang.
Weaver’s eyes widened. “What? No!” He broke free and stared at the thin red scratch along his palm. “No…”
Thorn watched Weaver sink to the ground.
The dream thief beat his chest even as his eyelids fluttered. “I…I must stay awake….I must…”
His eyes closed. He sighed. Weaver lay in the snow and slept.
“Thorn!”
Lily ran toward him and stared at Weaver. “What have you done?”
Thorn tossed the fang away. “What I had to. I’m sorry, Lily. I did it because I knew you wouldn’t.”
Lily knelt down beside Weaver and put her hands against his face. “He’s dropping into the Dreamtime.” She didn’t have long.
Thorn shook her. “What are you doing? You can’t wake him!”
“Shhh.” She closed her eyes. Weaver’s breath was a trembling hiss, but she did her best to match it, pace her own breathing with his. She had to catch him before he was lost in the endless paths of sleep. “Into the Dreamtime…”
She felt lighter; she was starting to drift.
“Into the Dreamtime…”
“Into…”
Weaver moaned, and he snapped open his eyes.
“You’re awake?” Lily exclaimed.
Weaver shoved her away from him. “Did you really think the dream weaver’s venom could work on me? I’ve played with them since I was a small child; they cannot harm me!”
Lily let her shoulders slump. She bowed her head. “I cannot beat you. Your magic is greater than mine. I surrender.” Her reply was heavy with a sense of defeat.
She watched him struggle up. He was so broken, the damage had gone far beyond his body into his heart and mind. His hate kept him going; the blaze was ever present in his eyes.
That’s why I need to give him everything.
Lily took off her father’s ring and handed it to Weaver. “You are firstborn, Brother. Gehenna is rightfully yours.”
“Is this my father’s?” He cradled it, and something briefly softened his eyes—a moment of calm and…happiness?
The zombies shuffled closer.
Lily raised her hands. “I surrender! All of you, kneel before your new ruler, Weaver of House Shadow!”
They hesitated. Thorn stared at her, then at Weaver, in utter disbelief. But he too knelt.
Old Colm, grim-faced, did the same. His squires, one after the other, followed his example.
“Kneel before your new ruler!” Lily repeated.
Weaver slid the ring onto the forefinger of his crooked left hand. “At last. At last—”
The ring began to glow.
Lily gasped.
It pulsed with a pale blue light, gaining brightness. Soon the light was blinding, and Lily stumbled back.
The light died, and what remained was a transformed Weaver.
“Of course,” whispered Lily. She should have guessed this would be his deepest wish. Now his victory was complete.
He has it all.
His injures were gone. He stood whole. Weaver laughed as he flexed his left hand, the limb that had been withered and useless, for so many years. Now it swelled with powerful, sleek muscle. He touched his face, feeling the smooth skin, the ridge of his nose, the curve of his left ear. He drew his fingers through his dense black hair. “Am I…handsome?”
Lord Iblis appeared. Lily’s heart jumped. Iblis was as he had been in life, not the pale phantom she knew in the Shadow Library. He marched through the snow, leaving footprints behind. Breath smoked in the cold air. His face bore fresh color.
“Father,” said Lily.
He paused, nodded once at her, then joined Weaver. “You are handsome indeed, my son.”
Lily fought down the shock of seeing her father like this. Why was she surprised? He would be more real here.
How would Weaver react? She watched silently as father and son met for the first time.
Deep, conflicting emotions fought for dominance on Weaver’s now-unblemished face. Iblis bowed. “Lord Weaver Shadow.”
Her brother, hand still against his face, looked about him as the snow stopped and the sky cleared
. A pale, soft sun shone over the battlefield. “Weaver Shadow…”
The zombies knelt. The soldiers knelt. Farther away, the villagers began to slowly walk out of the gates, bewildered, relieved it was over. When they saw him, splendid in the sun, they too fell to their knees.
“Lord Weaver Shadow,” said Lily as she, too, went down in the snow.
Weaver addressed her. “I shall be a generous ruler, Lilith. I shall let you live, but there can be only one Shadow in Castle Gloom. You are banished, forever.”
Lily nodded. “And Thorn? Mary?”
Weaver waved his hand indifferently. “Take whatever servants you wish.”
Iblis put his hand on Lily’s shoulder. “Well done, Lily.”
“Did I do right, Father? He has everything, and nothing.”
Weaver spread out his arms, as if he wanted to embrace all of Gehenna. “This is perfect. It’s everything I dreamed of….”
“He dreams,” said Lily, looking down at the sleeping figure. “He dreams his perfect dream.”
Weaver lay twisted in the snow. The puncture wound was black in his palm, and she could see the tendrils of venom spreading out under his skin, trapping him in his dream forever.
“His perfect dream,” she repeated.
The battle was over. With Weaver asleep, the jewel spiders had ceased functioning. They lay scattered across the snow, shining diamonds on a cold white carpet.
Zombies shuffled, a bit confused, like the soldiers. A few of the men poked at the jewel spiders, wary that they might still be alive and ready to spring at them suddenly.
Villagers escaped the webs and gathered in their groups, seeking out others from their homes.
So did the trolls.
They looked as bewildered as everyone else as they untangled themselves from the remains of the webs, rubbing sleep from their eyes and staring around in fright at all the soldiers surrounding them.
They needed to be dealt with, and soon.
Thorn looked down at the sleeping sorcerer. “Weird. He’s smiling.”
The Skeleton Key hung from his wrist by a black ribbon. Lily untied the bow and returned the key to her own pocket.