by Joshua Khan
Thorn eyed his friend. “You so keen to get yourself killed?”
“I’ve got to stop Jambiya, Thorn. And I need your help.”
Thorn scratched the back of his hand. “All right, K’leef. We go on.”
It seemed saving kingdoms was now his full-time occupation.
They packed up everything, including the bathtub. Thorn swore under his breath as they loaded the hideous contraption onto the camel—without any help from Gabriel, of course. The Solar boy was still sulking. Thorn also realized why this particular beast had been abandoned. It would sit down, refuse to get back up, and stare at the boys with aloof contempt. It bit, kicked, and spat huge, phlegmy balls of green slime.
Thorn named it Gobber.
“I thought you were good with animals,” said K’leef as they pulled on Gobber’s reins in an effort to make him stand. “You ride a giant vampire bat; a miserable camel should be no problem.”
“Give me Hades any day of the week,” muttered Thorn. Finally, with a mighty heave, they got Gobber up. “Don’t know where he’s gone.”
“He’ll come back. He always does.”
Thorn inspected the sky for the hundredth time that morning. Nothing.
They walked, Thorn with the camel, Gabriel straggling behind. K’leef led, pointing out landscape features he recognized from his maps and old scrolls. The heat rose with the sun as they passed ruins of old structures, small and not so small.
“These walls are from the time of the Six Princes,” K’leef explained. “They’re nothing. In the very heart of the Shardlands, they say, are the capitals of the Princes, and beyond that is the high king’s palace, the place where magic was born.”
“Anyone ever been there?” Thorn asked.
“People claim they have. Can you imagine what it must be like?”
“Dusty?”
K’leef wasn’t listening. “To walk the halls the Six walked. To visit the Elemental Library. To see the Garden of Chaos and the Hall of Wishes. My mother used to tell me stories about the golden age of magic.”
“My mom used to tell me to clean up after the goats.”
K’leef scowled. “You don’t have an ounce of imagination, Thorn. Maybe that’s why you can’t cast spells.”
“It’s all talk, K’leef. My mom also told me the Six all fought each other for the crown. They wrecked much of the world and the Shardlands—all this decay is their work. They destroyed all that was great about themselves. I ain’t got time for folk who’ll burn down a forest to cook a rabbit.”
“But they were great sorcerers. Where would we be if it wasn’t for their magic?”
“Me? I’d still be doing this: looking after the beasts. You, though—you wouldn’t be living in a palace.”
“Maybe not. But someone would. Magic’s coming to an end. This is the age of iron now. Time for swords, not spells.” K’leef cast a sideways glance at him. “And it won’t be any fairer.”
“Nobles will always be nobles,” agreed Gabriel. “And peasants will always be peasants. There is an order to the world; that does not change.”
Thorn kicked a rock out of his path. Why bother with this talk? It didn’t change anything, and yet here he was, arguing with two sorcerous nobles. Not that Gabriel was much of one. Thorn had witnessed him cast a spell once. It had been sad.
Thorn’s thoughts about the injustices of the world were interrupted by a roar. “That manticore sounds closer.”
Another roar confirmed it. Five, six, miles away. Sniffing around the remains of their abandoned camp, most likely.
Gabriel spoke. “Why can’t it go after the servants instead of us?”
“Guess they prefer royal blood,” said Thorn. He tugged at the camel’s reins. “Come on, you pile of stink. And I thought Hades smelled bad.”
“It’s not him. Not this time.” K’leef took a few steps forward and picked up a pitted lump of rock. He dug his fingers into it, and it crumbled like charcoal. “We need to go around.”
“Why?” All he could see was an expanse of ash-covered ground and more of the black, burnt rocks, large and small. Nothing that looked dangerous.
K’leef pulled a tuft of lint from his cloak and rolled it into a small ball. He held it for a second, and it caught fire, burning crisply. He tossed it in front of him. When it landed, it fizzed and sparked. The nearby rocks and stones began to steam and jump, and the gravelly pebbles popped.
Then there was an explosion.
Gobber snorted and Gabriel yelped as the rocks burst, flinging out a halo of white flame that rolled over the ground, igniting more stones until a circle over ten feet wide flamed.
K’leef clapped and the flames began to die down to hissing sprites that jumped across the rocks. They, too, eventually faded away, leaving behind a cloud of smoke and ash.
Thorn brushed his face clean of soot. “Is there nothing out here that doesn’t catch fire the moment you look at it?”
K’leef tossed him a pebble. “It’s porous. Explosive gas seeps up from vast underground chambers and gets trapped in the rocks. It’s called the Devil’s Breath.”
Thorn sniffed the pitted stone. His eyes began to water as the acidic stench burned through his nostrils. “Should be called the Devil’s Farts. That is an evil whiff.”
“The bigger the fire, the bigger the explosion.” K’leef pointed to a ridge of tan-hued sandstone. “If we can get over there, we should be safe. But it’ll add a few hours.”
Thorn threw the stone away. “Then we’d better get started.”
The wind was picking up, blowing dust in their faces. Behind them broiled strangely colored clouds.
K’leef pointed to a low rocky crest. “We could shelter in those caves.”
They moved quickly; even Gobber sensed the danger. They reached the crags just as the storm hit. The wind howled, and swirling sand scoured their skins. Thunder boomed, and the eerie voices that accompanied it turned into wails, tearing at Thorn’s mind, making him see things out of the corner of his eye.
Thorn paused at the cave mouth. “Light it up, K’leef. I wanna make sure it ain’t some manticore den.”
The flame revealed only bare rock and dancing shadows. Gobber folded himself down in the best spot in the back, forcing the boys to squat at the cave opening.
Thorn had never seen anything like this storm. Clouds roiled and expanded; shapes lurked out, then swiftly vanished. Colors flashed, and glowing lights tumbled in the wind, which also carried the sound of screams and cries and laughter. Worst was the sobbing, just within earshot, and so heavy with misery that Thorn found himself weeping. He glanced over to see Gabriel curled up tight, facing the wall.
K’leef sat nearby, his own face traced with tears. “Lost spirits. Nothing more than that.”
“Nothing more? It’s horrible. Such sorrow…”
“Try not to listen to them. They’ll drive you beyond despair.”
It was true. Thorn’s heart was a lead weight in his chest. It was the music of misery. No words—there was no way to understand it and perhaps make the bearing of it easier—but all emotion, all feeling.
Then came the promises.
Thorn, we’re here….
Ghostly figures emerged from the blazing, hellish lights.
“Lily?” Thorn stumbled to his feet.
Thorn, we know you miss us, so we came for you.
Lily smiled at him, just beyond the boundary of the cave.
Look who I brought.
She smiled as she summoned his family to him.
His dad, his mom, his siblings.
Lily brushed the hair from his brother Dale’s face. A pale smile greeted him, pale and cold and from beyond the grave.
“No!” sobbed Thorn. “What have you done to them?”
What did you expect, Thorn?
“You promised, Lily, you promised me!”
Lily laughed, and it was both happy and cruel. I promised to take care of them, and I have.
She’d turned his family
into undead. His twin sisters stared at him as they stood hand in hand. Heather and Petal. There were flowers woven into their blond locks, and they each held a bunch of withered black roses.
“Why?” asked Thorn.
Nothing can hurt them now, Thorn. Aren’t they perfect? She clapped with delight.
He had to save them.
“Thorn! Thorn!” K’leef shook him violently. “Ignore them!”
Thorn couldn’t. Not with them just beyond the cave entrance, and Lily taunting him. He stepped to the cave mouth, but K’leef held him tighter. “You can’t leave, Thorn.”
Gabriel rocked back and forth, in his own world of misery. “No, Father, I don’t like mirrors. I don’t want to see….”
Thorn, we’re waiting for you.
They needed him, but K’leef wouldn’t let go. “You see? They are just illusions, Thorn.”
Come join us, Brother….
“Get off of me!” Thorn wrestled K’leef, and both boys tumbled to the ground, tugging and pulling at each other. After a few minutes Thorn tried to break away, but K’leef clung to him, his eyes blazing. Flames raged in his pupils, and smoke hissed from between his gritted teeth, as if he’d just been spewed from hell.
The bizarre sight was enough to shake Thorn out of his madness. “All right, K’leef. No need to get so hot and bothered.”
K’leef blinked. A laugh burst from him, and all was as before. They helped each other up, and Thorn, his back to the wind and cries, turned to Gabriel.
He was transformed.
His lustrous hair, flawless skin, and brilliant blue eyes had decayed to limp, dull strings, a pockmarked face with crooked teeth, and faded, watery eyes.
This was the true Gabriel. Lily had told Thorn that he used all his magic to look unnaturally handsome. The strain of maintaining the illusion, even when he slept, was enormous. The storm’s fury had blasted it away, and there sat a spindly, frail boy with uneven limbs and a thin chest, hardly the stuff of heroes.
“No…” Gabriel covered his face in shame. “Don’t look at me.”
Thorn pushed Gobber’s hindquarters aside, just enough to give the three of them room to huddle farther back in the cave.
Thorn stared out into the storm.
And Lily continued to laugh while his family begged for mercy.
NINETEEN
No one, living, dead, or otherwise, knew the full extent of the Shadow Library in Castle Gloom. Passages led out to all points of the compass, stairs sent explorers upward to gallery after gallery, and stairs took them down to one scroll-filled catacomb after another. Entire chambers had been lost to time, decay, and to abominations that had seeped out from one magical page or another, malevolent, bloodthirsty, and territorial.
Lily knew of the lost Hall of Harrowing Whispers, for example, where Moloch Shadow had tried—and only partially succeeded in—summoning a demon. Moloch’s ghost still haunted the dark and bloody chamber, eternally repeating the spell he hadn’t quite gotten right, as if one day he might remember the missing phrase that had led to his destruction.
Maps could not be relied upon, because the Shadow Library was not a constant construct. Rooms moved and sometimes disappeared entirely to return centuries later, with an unlucky reader now a skeleton slumped over the faded pages of a spell book.
But one creature was doing his best to explore every corner of the endless library, and he came scurrying out of a passageway at the sound of Lily’s heels clicking on the marble flagstones.
Lily crouched and patted her lap. “Custard! Here, boy!”
The black Labrador puppy yapped excitedly and leaped onto her lap. He rolled over, and Lily tickled his belly mercilessly. “Miss me, Custie?”
He wagged his short tail.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then?” She put the dog down. “Where is he?”
Custard dashed between two forever-high pillars of books. Beyond them a figure sat at a table, a small moon orb glowing above him.
Lily didn’t have to be wary of anything here, for this was not the library itself, but a dream of the library. And she would never be afraid of this man, who rose from his chair and smiled warmly. “Lily.”
Her father haunted the Shadow Library back home, and Lily could see him there whenever she wanted to. But in the Dreamtime, he was real—flesh and bone and breath—not the faded ether of a ghost. They only met this way when he chose to.
“Something is worrying you,” said Iblis Shadow as he freed her from a hug. “How are things in the Sultanate?”
“Sa’if is dead. And Thorn blew up the Candle.”
“Ah.” He pushed out a chair for her. A strange gesture, since they both knew this was a dream. “Sit down. Tell me everything.”
Custard settled on her lap, and Lily idly brushed his fur as she went over the main events of the last few days, primarily the coronation.
“I summoned his ghost, for K’leef’s sake. He wanted to say good-bye to his brother.”
Iblis patted her hand. “You did well. Such summoning isn’t easy, even for an accomplished necromancer. Did the ghost give you any hint about why he hadn’t been able to protect himself?”
“No. He was looking to the Far Shore. I couldn’t keep him lingering long.” Then Lily added, “But something strange has happened since. I know things, things I don’t remember learning. When K’leef showed me a cage he built for a phoenix, I knew more about the spells to complete it than he did.”
“You might have come across something in your studies?”
Lily shook her head. “And things about his family, too. Private things. They’re in my memory, but they’re not my own.”
Iblis’s eyes widened. “It’s a gift from Sa’if. I’ve heard about this before, but not in a long time. Blessings of the Dead.”
“It’s magic?” asked Lily. She hadn’t come across such a phrase.
“It is far older than what we might call sorcery. We Shadows are more open to receiving such gifts, because we don’t build barriers against the dead the way other cultures do. It was probably a sign that Sa’if was grateful to you, for being such a good friend to K’leef.”
Lily shivered. “So I have some of Sa’if’s memories?”
“Some of his knowledge. Don’t be afraid, Lily. What he gave you was because of the love he felt for his brother. A love he recognized in you, too.”
“Love?” Lily felt her face redden. “I don’t feel that way about K’leef.” It felt odd to even mention love and K’leef in the same sentence.
“There are many types of love, Lily.” Iblis sighed. “And there is a great magic in it.”
The longing in his tone was unmistakable. After death he hadn’t gone to the Far Shore like her mother and brother, Dante. He had remained in the Shadow Library so she could visit him whenever she needed some guidance. But for how much longer could she expect him to be at her beck and call? The stronger she became, both as a witch and as a ruler, the less often she needed to consult him. And as much as she couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving her, she knew that keeping him from his wife and son was unfair and cruel. Her father deserved peace.
Time to get to the heart of the matter. “What do you think about Sa’if’s death?”
“The more important question is, what do you think?”
“I’ve thought and thought and thought about it, but none of it makes any sense. Sa’if’s magic should have saved him.”
“Do you know why the Sultanate uses the lava crown?”
Lily shrugged. It was the first thing she’d read up on. “To test one’s magic. Only a sorcerer of fire can wear it and survive.”
“And we know Sa’if was a very skillful sorcerer of fire, until that moment.”
Lily met her dad’s gray gaze. “Until his magic failed…or he was no longer a sorcerer?”
Iblis nodded slowly. “If you eliminate all other options, what else are you left with?”
“That he lost his magic? Is that even possible?”
“It must be, because that is what happened.”
Lily looked at the shelves around her. They reached far up into the darkness and went on forever. But the books and scrolls they contained were figments of her imagination, and as such, they couldn’t provide any answers. She needed the real library. “Sa’if lost his magic the very moment he needed it most. That is too much of a coincidence to be an accident.”
“I agree.”
She bit her lip, hesitating over the thought that would create chaos. But there was no escaping it. “He was murdered.”
Iblis nodded. “So it would seem.”
“It has to be Jambiya,” said Lily. “He found some way to block Sa’if’s magic.”
“Sa’if has other siblings, too, Lily. It could have been any one of them.”
“Only five of Sa’if’s brothers are sorcerers, and putting aside K’leef, that leaves four. It’s one of them. It has to be.”
“Whoever it is, they’ll make a move against K’leef now that he’s taking part in the trial.”
Lily’s blood ran cold. If someone were after K’leef, he’d have to go through Thorn to get to him.
“I need to find the killer.” She put the sleeping Custard on the table. “I have to wake up now, Father.”
“Is that everything?”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
Iblis walked over to one of the many busts of the ancient family members that littered the library. “There’s no hiding in dreams, Lily. You know that.”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“Oh, no? Have a good look at this face.” He pointed to the sculpture.
“Why? I know it’s Dagon Shadow. He’s in…” Lily’s voice faltered as Iblis stepped aside and full light fell onto the bust.
It was Pan, her uncle.
Iblis gestured at the statue in the alcove. “And that should be Earl Tannin Shadow, yet he has the face of my brother. What aren’t you telling me? Pan’s very much on your mind.”
“He’s here. He’s working for Jambiya.”
The room shook and books fell from the shelves. Custard woke and fled. The polished surface of the table splintered, flicking needle-sharp slivers across the room.