Burning Magic

by Joshua Khan

  “You can’t be serious!” cried K’leef. But he picked up the Solar boy.

  Thorn glanced back. The manticore had spat the broken bow out of its mouth. Blood dripped from its black lips, and it was growling angrily. It swung its tail, looking for another shot.

  The tub bobbed, and the metal hissed as it settled into the lava. It didn’t feel too steady. If it tipped over…

  Thorn jumped in as the tail lashed. Spikes clattered against the metal, and one brushed his shoulder, tearing his tunic but missing the flesh. “Come on, K’leef!”

  “I don’t believe I’m doing this.” K’leef and Gabriel fell in together as Thorn fumbled for Gabriel’s sword.

  The manticore roared and leaped at them.

  Thorn pushed off the bank.

  The manticore tried to twist in midair. It screamed as it splashed into the lava, its legs and belly catching fire. It beat at the flames, succeeding only in spreading them further. Then it clambered out of the river, shaking and smoking blackly. The smell of burning fur stank in Thorn’s nostrils, yet he grinned.

  The manticore paced up and down the bank, roaring with fury. It was hurt but not mortally wounded—it was beyond tough. It sat down and started licking its singed paws.

  Thorn pushed at a rock with the sword, using it to punt across. “We’ve made it. I don’t believe it, but we made it.”

  “Thorn…” K’leef cradled Gabriel. The Solar boy’s white tunic was red.

  There was a spike sticking out of his chest.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “Thorn was right.” Lily shook her shackles. “These things are heavy.”

  “Be thankful they’re just around your wrists and not your neck.” Jambiya chewed on a strip of desert rat.

  “I am so grateful.”

  Jambiya scowled. “Wit in a woman is perverse and unnatural. What kind of creature did your brother raise, Earl Shadow?”

  Pan said nothing, but Lily saw a flash of anger in his eyes.

  They traveled light, a horse each and a spare for supplies that Lily was now riding. Their nomad guide, Nasr, clearly knew his business. He was constantly supplying food and finding waterholes. They were taking their time, going slowly and carefully.

  And a hundred paces behind strode Farn, each of his steps sizzling the earth beneath. The efreet flared, casting off wings of fire from its shoulders, and it dripped lava from the cracks that scarred its rock-encrusted black skin.

  She employed zombies, she hosted ghosts, and she walked through other people’s nightmares in the Dreamtime, but she could not get over her fear of Farn. Even from this distance her flesh prickled with the heat, and she felt his pitiless glowing white eyes on her and her alone.

  The background magic of the Shardlands only made the creature stronger, and hotter. How could you defeat something like that? Farn could melt an iceberg.

  She nudged her mount a few paces closer to the blind prince.

  “K’leef probably has his phoenix by now,” she said. “Sultan K’leef. I like the sound of that.”

  Jambiya picked some flesh from between his teeth. “Boy’s given up by now, I’m sure. Like Fafnir did.”

  “Fafnir gave up?” Lily gasped. “Why?”

  Jambiya shrugged. “He was weak and ill-suited to the Shardlands.”

  “Unlike you?” she said. “But that doesn’t matter. I think you should free me now.”

  “And why should I do that?”

  “You have no right. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Nothing wrong?” Jambiya snarled. “You are the greatest criminal in all the New Kingdoms! A witch who uses her magic openly, defying all that is just and decent. An abomination.”

  There was no point in arguing with a fanatic. Lily looked to her uncle. Jambiya raised his stick, somehow sensing her intention. “Oh, don’t think you have an ally there. You exiled him, did you not? Cast him out of Gehenna dressed in nothing but rags.”

  “I was merciful,” said Lily. “Others wanted him executed. Remember, Uncle? We stood right there, up on Execution Hill, with Tyburn and his ax. You were on your knees, begging.”

  “I was a different man then,” Pan answered, scowling. “Weak.”

  There was no denying that.

  Now look at him. The drunk was gone, and in his place was a warrior.

  The years had fallen off him. He was tall and proud and no longer puffy. Pan flexed his fingers around his sword. He was dressed not like a noble, but a mercenary, in plain armor with unadorned, functional weapons and nothing extra. All business. A brutal business.

  What was in this alliance for him?

  Fame? Fortune? A title?

  All those things, once Jambiya became sultan.

  But Pan would always be an exile from his homeland.

  And what were they going to do with her?

  Jambiya wanted her dead, so why wasn’t she already? It’s not as if anyone would ever find out, not here in the wilderness. Had Pan prevented it? No, she wasn’t alive out of some lingering loyalty from Pan. Something else kept her breathing.

  He needs me. For what?

  The answer was obvious. Despite Jambiya’s casual dismissal of K’leef, she knew her friend had a chance of winning. With her as hostage, Jambiya could blackmail K’leef, perhaps even trade her for a phoenix if K’leef succeeded and he didn’t.

  But would K’leef make that choice?

  He’d hand over the phoenix to save her, she had no doubt about that. But instead of that making her feel better, it made her feel worse. She was a bargaining chip, her only value being what she could be traded for, like a farmer’s prize cow. The same was true for many a royal princess.

  Lily twisted the links of her chains angrily. The dull clack told her they were forged from cold iron. She wouldn’t be casting any spells with these on.

  Where were her friends?

  Having nothing better to do, Lily settled herself as best she could and let her thoughts wander back home.

  She’d left Gehenna on a foggy morning, so she hadn’t even gotten to see Castle Gloom on that last day. Just a few dim torches had lit the road—those and the ethereal glow of the few ghosts lurking on the borders of the City of Silence, the vast graveyard beside her home. Aside from them, the only beings to notice her had been the crows that nested on Lamentation Hill, the execution ground.

  Lily missed her home dearly. It was a physical ache for the cobwebs, the macabre statues, and the bats that inhabited every nook and cranny. Would she ever walk the dark corridors again, hear the soft wailing of the zombies? Spend winter evenings sewing their parts back on?

  I went too far. Too far from home, too far with my ambitions.

  She should have predicted that people outside her realm would not accept her. After all, half of her own subjects whispered behind her back, seeing her as a freak of nature, an uppity female, or just simply too young to hold the reins of power. She could think of a dozen nobles who’d rather park their backsides in the throne. They’d send Jambiya a crateful of black diamonds if she just happened to disappear.

  Face it, Lily, how many friends do you really have? Not counting the dead ones?

  It wasn’t a long list, and the top two were somewhere out there, deep in the Shardlands.

  Jambiya spoke. “Your uncle tells me you have many other great treasures in Castle Gloom.”

  “And that’s where they’ll stay.”

  She hadn’t brought any of them with her. Not the Mantle of Sorrows, nor her magic books or potions. She’d only brought the Skeleton Key because it would make unpacking her trunks easier, and that was now with Mary.

  The key was useful in discovering secrets, and Lily liked discovering secrets. Like the one she’d been struggling with for days.

  Ameera had killed Sa’if. She was a sorceress of no mean ability. And Jambiya had no idea.

  How would it play out? Would Jambiya return triumphant only to face an army of his sisters? Would the Sultanate be torn apart by civil war?

&nbs
p; Was there no peace to be found anywhere?

  Lily couldn’t deny the truth that she had, unwittingly, played her own part in it all. Ameera was merely following in her footsteps. Lily, of all people, knew how the princesses felt.

  The nomad, Nasr, held her reins, leading her as if she were a five-year-old on her first pony.

  Like most nomads, he bore the side effects of the wild magic that contaminated the Shardlands. Chitinous folds covered his forehead and overhung his eyes. His hands were also layered with hard skin, and below his wrists were a pair of small pincers, the vestigial remains of his original scorpion ancestor.

  “Scorpion tribe, yes?” she asked him as they plodded along. “They say the Scorpions are some of the best hunters out in the Shardlands. Almost as great as the Vipers.”

  He spat a wad of phlegm between them. “Vipers? Who says Viper is greater than the Scorpion?”

  “It’s just what I’ve heard….”

  “Then you have heard lies.” Nasr picked at an old scar on his left cheek. “A child of the Scorpion tribe could easily kill even the greatest Viper warrior. Everyone knows this.”

  “But they are the best explorers. The Vipers know all the routes through the Shardlands. I’ve heard, from honest people, that the Vipers even know where the high king’s city is.”

  Nasr glared so angrily at her, she might as well have slapped him. “Prince Jambiya trusts me, Nasr of the Scorpion, known as the Red Scorpion, not some slithering green thing. What prospers better in the Shardlands than a Scorpion? Does any of Viper know where the phoenixes nest?”

  “Of course. In the Lava Mountains. Even I know that.”

  “Then you, like a typical woman, know nothing. They abandoned their nests there twenty years past.” Nasr gestured southward. “The last of the fire birds now live beyond the Weeping Stones.”

  “Never heard of them.”

  He grunted. “As I said, you know nothing.”

  This was bad. K’leef had bet everything on the Lava Mountains. He was going the wrong way and didn’t know it.

  “These stones—a long ride from here, are they?”

  Nasr growled. “No more questions.”

  Lily held up her chains. “I’m not going anywhere. What difference does it make if you tell me or not?”

  Nasr glanced over at Jambiya and Pan; they were a hundred paces away. “Another day, perhaps two. We have to pass the Haunts first.”

  “The Haunts? Sounds like my kind of place.”

  “The place is cursed.”

  “They usually are. Have you seen the creatures that live there? Actually with your own eyes?” If they were undead, she’d have an advantage. Old spirits remembered House Shadow, and the loyalty they owed it. It was useful being able to call in favors from thousands of years ago.

  “Creatures foul and unnatural,” snapped Nasr. “They feast on blood and marrow. They are ruled by an immortal demoness who lives in a cavern of bones.”

  “Sounds like Great-Aunt Morrigan,” said Lily. “Kept her husband’s skull beside her bed for years. Told me they’d have little chats after midnight.”

  Nasr shivered, then spurred his horse away.

  “Suit yourself,” said Lily. She’d never understand why people found death so frightening. Surely she wasn’t the only child who had skull-shaped cakes for her birthday?

  She hadn’t even celebrated her last birthday, just a few weeks ago. Fourteen now. Wasn’t life supposed to be figured out by the time you turned fourteen? She’d been ruling Gehenna for a year, and with each day, it seemed to get harder, not easier. Mary said it gave her gray hairs just trying to balance the books, blaming Cook for paying the millers too much and selling their bread for too little. Lily had to do much more than that as queen…but she didn’t have to worry about gray hairs, not with her all-white locks.

  The others had stopped at a ridge. Lily came up beside her uncle.

  Below them was a small camp of nomads, their tents protected by the outcropping. Several warriors waved up at them.

  “Reinforcements, eh?” asked Lily. “Isn’t that against the rules, Uncle?”

  Winged creatures circled above them. Not birds, and not bats, either. Their wings were leathery and the color of pale flesh, lined with red veins. Their beaks were wicked hooks, and their bodies were scaled. Farther on, just on the edge of the horizon, Lily made out a dark, crooked line of cliffs. Their sheer walls were pitted with caves, which she knew wouldn’t be empty. No, here in the Shardlands, you had to expect the worst. Lily couldn’t suppress a shiver. The landscape reeked of foreboding.

  Pan tipped his spear toward the high rock face. “The Haunts.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Put one foot in front of the other. That’s all that matters. Just keep going.

  But each step was harder than the last. Thorn’s legs felt as heavy as anchors, and his feet dragged through the ash, because he didn’t have the strength to lift them. His shoulders and arms screamed in protest of all the pulling.

  They took turns, but he was sure he had dragged Gabriel twice as long as K’leef had. It seemed to him that the Djinnic prince would take just a few steps before declaring his shift over.

  They’d found enough pieces of wood to build a makeshift sled, using turban cloth and belts to hold it together. They’d even managed to patch Gabriel up. For the time being, at least.

  Can’t believe he’s still alive.

  Won’t be for long, though. For all of us.

  Hardly any water, no food, and no idea where they were headed.

  Thorn coughed and tried to produce enough saliva to clear the ash from his mouth. A few drips of black spittle made it out.

  A small part of him, that traitorous part, urged him to sit down and let it just happen. The end.

  Keep going.

  Give up.

  You can do it.

  Who do you think you are?

  I’m the bat rider.

  You’re the stable cleaner.

  I’ve saved kingdoms and rescued princesses. I’m a hero.

  You’re a peasant. Always have been, always will be.

  Thorn shook his head. Out, out, out with the bad thoughts.

  “K’leef, come back here. I’ve gotta rest awhile.” Thorn lowered the sled and felt a foot taller. Wow, he could dance now, freed of the weight. Dance his way back home. All he had to do was abandon Gabriel.

  K’leef, who’d been scouting ahead, shuffled back and dropped to the ground. He shook the waterskin. “Half-empty.”

  “Or half-full,” said Thorn. “Pass it here.” He took a mouthful and handed it back to his friend.

  K’leef shook his head. “I’m not thirsty. Why don’t you save it till later?”

  “Drink it, K’leef.”

  The prince stared at the waterskin. “What’s the point of sharing it, Thorn? That might keep you going for another day.”

  “Keep me going? This ain’t about me.” Thorn pushed the skin into K’leef’s chest. “Drink, and I don’t want no more of this talk.”

  K’leef wanted to give up. Thorn saw it in his eyes and the way he slumped. But pride, or honor, kept him going. He wanted Thorn’s blessing to quit, but Thorn wasn’t about to grant it.

  Thorn laughed. “So, we ain’t discussed my reward for helping you.”

  K’leef smirked. “Oh, right. What is it you desire? The hand of a princess?”

  Thorn grimaced. “Why would I want only her hand?”

  “It’s a figure of speech, Thorn. You get all of her.”

  “Oh? It’s just that I work with zombies, and sometimes a hand is all you get.”

  “A princess’s hand in marriage is the traditional reward. But then, so are a few chests of gold. A noble title or two. That’s pretty common.”

  “Sir Thorn Batrider. I like the sound of that.” Thorn slapped his neck. “These insects are worse than that manticore. I swear by the Six, they’re draining me dry.”

  “Just try and ignore them.”

 
Thorn waved the insects away from Gabriel’s wound. “If I had a handful of elfwort, we could fix him up, no problem.”

  K’leef blinked. “Elfwort? We have that back at the palace. Each jar costs fifty dinar.”

  Thorn whistled. “Fifty? Ain’t worth nothing back home. It grows all over Herne’s Forest. We use it to make poultices. Even chew on it to cure toothaches.”

  Elfwort and a sprig of stalker fern. Rub that over your skin and you could stop worrying about any insects. The smell of it scared them off better than…

  Better than what?

  Thorn frowned. He used to know all the herbs and plants.…How could he forget one? He sighed, his heart suddenly heavy with homesickness. He was slowly losing touch with where he’d come from. He hadn’t thought that possible.

  “Have a sleep,” said K’leef. “I’ll wake you up in an hour; then we’ll swap and I’ll pull the sled.”

  “Only an hour, all right? We want to get to those hills before dark,” said Thorn. “They could shelter us for the night.”

  K’leef went to check on Gabriel, and Thorn closed his eyes.

  “Peasant. Peasant…”

  Thorn blinked. “What?”

  “I’m dying, aren’t I?” Gabriel’s eyes fluttered open. “Tell me the truth. I can take it.”

  “Yup. Reckon in the next few hours.” Thorn wiped his face semi-clean. “By nightfall for sure.”

  Gabriel wailed. “Why did you tell me that?”

  “You asked! And if it makes you feel any better, we won’t be far behind you.”

  Gabriel wiped his eyes, though the tears were too precious to waste. “I…I have things to do.”

  “Like what?”

  “You’re not interested, not really.”

  Thorn shrugged. “I ain’t in any rush. Tell me.”

  “The way I was with you, it was wrong. I know that now. I should have treated you differently.”

  What? Was Gabriel apologizing?

  “I was too soft,” Gabriel continued. “You need thrashing on a regular basis. You’re a terrible servant. And really very ugly. No offense.”

  “Er…”

  “Is that why they all like you? Is that why you have so many friends and I…don’t have any?”