Burning Magic

by Joshua Khan

  “Thorn…”

  He sighed. “Would this be a matter of honor? If it is, I don’t want to hear it. All I’m saying is Lily’s been crying, and it’s because of her uncle.”

  “I’m not entirely sure it’s just because of him. We’re headed to Necropolis, the heart of Prince Shadow’s kingdom.”

  “I always thought he was born and raised in Gehenna.”

  K’leef slowed down so he could search for signs of phoenixes around the crags and boulders. He pointed ahead. “See those ruins?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “This is the Old Kingdom. The Six Princes were born here, in palaces that have been lost to age and destruction so all that remains are those broken buildings. Places like Castle Gloom and Nahas are merely poor replicas of what the Old Kingdom was. It’s here that mankind learned magic. Prince Shadow only went to Gehenna afterward.”

  “After he and his brothers destroyed all this, right?”

  K’leef frowned the same way Lily did when anyone criticized their ancestors. “This is where the six brothers were taught magic by their otherworldly mother.”

  “The elf queen,” said Thorn. That’s the story he knew. “And Herne was her favorite.”

  “She was a desert spirit,” stated K’leef. “As anyone within a thousand miles of here will tell you, it was Djinn who was her best student. And we’re not going to discuss this anymore.”

  Right. Everyone had their own opinion, depending on where they were from. The people of House Coral believed she’d been a mermaid, captured in the high king’s nets when he was nothing but a penniless fisherman. Lily was convinced she’d been a demoness of some sort. In the end, what difference did it really make? But everyone wanted to believe they were more special than everyone else. Grandpa had a saying for that, but Thorn didn’t reckon it was suitable for K’leef’s delicate ears. “So, what was this Necropolis like?”

  K’leef settled himself more comfortably in his saddle, which Thorn envied. His own backside was aching something awful, and his inner thighs felt like they’d been scrubbed with sandpaper. “After the high king died, as all mortals do, his kingdom was divided among his six sons. Necropolis was Prince Shadow’s capital. Like all the magic capitals, it was splendid. People passed easily back and forth across the Veil. Death itself had been conquered. They say it was imprisoned in a hole under Prince Shadow’s throne of bones.”

  “Sounds uncomfortable,” Thorn replied, trying to find an unbruised part of his buttocks to rest upon. “But you’re being poetic, ain’t you?”

  “Poetic?”

  Thorn brightened. “It’s like the song, ‘The Old Duke’s Longsword.’ What it’s really about is—”

  “It’s better in the original Djinnic. Here it’s ‘The Old Sultan’s Scimitar.’ You see, it’s bent in a funny way, and no one can make it straight.” It was hard to tell, but it looked like K’leef was blushing.

  “Interesting variation. Anyway, K’leef, as you were saying, Death’s in this pit….”

  “Yes. In the pit. So, the Six-Sided War broke out between the brothers. They all wanted the high king’s crown. Prince Coral drowned cities under his tidal waves. Prince Herne split the world open with massive earthquakes, and my ancestor burned the very clouds. But as more people died, Prince Shadow’s armies grew greater and greater. Everyone the other princes killed became another soldier in his battalions. He had ranks upon ranks of not only undead, but also other creatures of darkness. He had summoned great demons, terrifying devils, and—”

  “Devils and demons? Ain’t they the same?”

  “No, very different,” said K’leef.

  “How?”

  “No one’s ever found out and survived. Still, very different. Hasn’t Lily explained all this to you? Castle Gloom was built by demons, under the command of the prince. But the last to have a demonic servant was Telane Shadow. I think he took her as his bride. Didn’t work out. Marriage is a tricky enough business for mortals.”

  All this talk made Thorn’s skin grow cold. He was just about used to the undead that lurked in every dark corner of Castle Gloom, but he wasn’t sure he could stand the idea of demons and their like. “The Shadows are strange, ain’t they?”

  “But that’s what’s so appealing, isn’t it?” K’leef glanced back at Lily. “They fascinate us.”

  Thorn kicked K’leef’s boot to get his attention off her. “Back to the war, K’leef? Tell me about Prince Shadow.”

  “It looked as though he was going to win. So the other five formed a temporary truce and went after him.”

  “One against the rest? That hardly seems fair.”

  K’leef glanced at him. “You hunt bears with one dog, or a pack?”

  “Neither. Poor use of dogs. We hunt bears with these.” Thorn patted his quiver. “But I see your point. One arrow ain’t usually enough for a bear.”

  K’leef continued. “They were about to corner him here, in his capital. Think about it. This was Prince Shadow’s home. His wife and children all lived here. He knew what his brothers would do to them if they were taken alive.”

  A shiver traveled up Thorn’s spine. “Let me guess: Death before dishonor?”

  K’leef nodded. “When his brothers rode in, their victory was a hollow one indeed. There was not one person still alive, except for Prince Shadow, lonely and heartbroken on his throne. The pit underneath was empty. He’d freed Death and unleashed it on his own people. He wanted to die himself, to be with his family on the Far Shore, but Death has a cruel sense of humor, it seems, and did not take him. Death wanted Prince Shadow to forever feel the pain of losing everyone he loved. That’s when the prince went into exile, far away to the very ends of the earth.”

  “Gehenna.” That made sense; it was the most forsaken place in the New Kingdoms.

  K’leef cleared his throat. “That’s the story I know. And that’s why you don’t want to be in Necropolis when the sun goes down.”

  “I ain’t sure I want to be there at all.”

  K’leef stopped and pointed ahead. “Look.”

  Thorn squinted. “What?”

  “There! Did you see it?”

  What was he…

  A line of fire slashed the clouds, just above the horizon, then winked out. A moment later, he saw it again—it trailed in a long, winding spiral, rising up and dipping before vanishing again.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  Hades swooped overhead, crying out a challenge. He beat his wings, angry that there was an intruder in the sky, his sky.

  The flames burst out again, fiercer than before, and changed colors beyond the red and yellow to pure white and eye-aching blue.

  “We’ve found them,” whispered K’leef, awestruck. “We’ve found the phoenixes.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  “So that’s Necropolis?” said Thorn, squinting into the distance. “It don’t look like much from here.”

  He glanced around. No one was listening but Hades. And he wasn’t sure about Hades, either. The big bat’s attention was on the fiery trails left by the phoenixes. One lip rose in a sullen snarl.

  The others were back down the slope, drawing in the sand.

  “Hey! I was just sayin’ that the city—”

  “Whatever,” snapped Lily. She sat on her haunches, focusing on the crude map before her. “I don’t think the Avenue of Horror runs beside the Heartache Canal. I remember it being more west.” She used a long bone to redraw the route. “This way.”

  K’leef scowled. “My maps were more up-to-date than your storybooks, Lily. The Ruby Warlock said the canal went south, not west. Past the Temple of the Dead Gods.”

  Pan shook his head. “The Ruby Warlock was a fool and a liar. The nomads said he never went more than a day’s ride from Nahas. Would sit out, enjoy their hospitality for a month or two, then come back with some new wild tale.”

  Flames crossed K’leef’s forehead. “The Ruby Warlock is a famous ancestor of mine. He’s one of the greats.”


  “One of the great charlatans,” said Pan. He took the bone and drew a deep line across the others. “The canal cuts this way—past the towers. That’s how you’ll get your phoenixes, young man.”

  Thorn peered over Lily’s shoulder. Lines crisscrossed everywhere. “Why don’t I just—”

  “Just a moment, Thorn.” Lily laid out three rocks. “But we can all agree that the Skull Towers are here, yes?”

  “No,” said K’leef, glaring at Pan. “The Ruby Warlock, famed throughout the New Kingdoms as one of the greatest explorers ever, swore the Skull Towers had been demolished. That pile to the east is the Catacomb of Exiles, not the Skull Towers.”

  “Look,” interrupted Thorn. “I could—”

  Pan pointed at a stone. “Wait, is that the Gate to the Path of Misfortune, or the Hallowed Hall of Countless Horrors and Three Delights?”

  “Neither. It’s just a pebble.” Lily picked it up and threw it aside. “Sorry.”

  He’d had enough. Thorn stepped over Lily onto the middle of the map. “Me and Hades will take a look.”

  Lily stood up and brushed the sand off her skirt. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? Honestly, Thorn…”

  K’leef clapped him on his shoulder. “I knew I brought you here for a reason.”

  “Yeah? I thought I came just for fun.”

  “This is where you belong, Thorn. When certain death looms and the kingdom’s all in peril and disaster’s on the horizon.”

  “It don’t sound so much fun when you put it that way.” Thorn gazed over to the faint line of wall and the trails of light above it. They were still many miles away, but there was no missing the dancing comets of fire.

  How many birds were there? At least two, maybe more.

  “Hades and I might be able to find them,” he said, “but how are we gonna hold ’em?”

  The cage had disappeared along with the thieving servants, and Thorn couldn’t think of any other way to trap a phoenix.

  “There’s no turning back now.” K’leef turned his hands over, and flames wrapped through his fingers. “First find them; then we’ll come up with a plan for keeping them.”

  Hades hissed through his nostrils. Those small red eyes of his kept watch on the flames cutting the sky.

  Thorn stroked the big beast’s furry chest. “They bother you, huh?”

  Hades stared down at him.

  “Not used to someone else ruling the skies?” teased Thorn.

  Hades gave him a closer look at his immense fangs. He didn’t find Thorn’s comment funny.

  Lily and Pan approached. She looked over at the far walls. “Just take a quick look around, then come right back. Find out which tower the phoenixes nest in.”

  What were the two of them up to? Was she taking Pan’s advice? “You asking me or ordering me, Lady Shadow?”

  She frowned. “You’re an idiot,” she said, and walked off.

  Thorn bristled. What had he said? Nobles—nothing they did made any sense.

  “She’s right. You are an idiot,” said Pan.

  “If I want your opinion, I’ll ask. And guess what? I’ll never ask.”

  Pan didn’t leave. Instead he stared at Thorn, as if trying to read what was going on behind his eyes. “That chip on your shoulder will grow heavier until it breaks you, or you drop it. This comes from a man who knows.”

  “Like I said, I’m not interested in your opinion, Pan. I can call you Pan, can’t I? You’re not a lord or nothing anymore, are you?”

  Pan scowled. “No one has stepped in Necropolis for thousands of years. We don’t know what might be lurking in there. So be careful. If there’s a hint of trouble, get out.”

  “I know how to look after myself.” He patted the bat’s cheek. “Ready, Hades?”

  He leaped up into position. Ah, now this was better. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  Hades picked up the heat rising off the sunbaked stone and rose in wide, languid circles to gain some height.

  The Shardlands. Who would have thought, even a year ago, he’d end up here? Last spring, he’d been back in Herne’s Forest, heading out with Dad before dawn with bows, axes, and a handful of traps. Sometimes one of his siblings would come along, too. Usually it was Pagan, who was the next oldest, and sometimes it was Heather—she had a gift for finding trails and the choicest forest mushrooms and berries. But more often than not, it was just the pair of them.

  Did he miss those days? Would he want to go back to how it used to be?

  Thorn grinned. What? And lose the chance to fly on the greatest animal there ever was? And to see all this? He rubbed Hades in his favorite spot, right between his big ears. Hades growled contentedly.

  All right, Necropolis was bigger than he’d thought.

  A whole lot bigger.

  The city sprawled. The hills he’d thought were at the far edge were actually a line of palaces; Necropolis stretched on and on after that. There were squares and roads and palaces spreading far beyond the main walls. You didn’t see that very often nowadays. People preferred to live within walls for safety. Even his hometown, Stour, had a ditch and simple hazel hurdle fence surrounding it.

  That told him there had been peace here, for a long time.

  The streets were wide, the houses magnificent, the statues and columns gigantic and, even after all this time, breathtaking in their grandeur. Hades skimmed over a row of crouching stone scorpions, each one sitting on a plinth over thirty feet high, their stingers arching over the road, poised as if to strike an unwary traveler. The black stone was pitted by age and the elements, yet it still sparkled.

  He understood Lily a bit better now, seeing the home of her ancestor. No wonder she always spoke of Prince Shadow with such awe, and why she struggled to find any fault in him. How could you not be proud?

  The nobles of the New Kingdoms lived in the shadow of giants: the Six Princes. No matter how much they achieved, their accomplishments were small compared to the sorcerers of the past. How must that feel, knowing the best was all behind you?

  That wasn’t the way he lived. When he wasn’t hunting with his dad, he was busy in the garden with his mom and the rest of his brothers and sisters. There was good coin working in the local farms, too. Planting in the spring, reaping in the fall.

  Things grew where he came from. Today it might be nothing but a handful of seeds, but tomorrow promised golden stalks and mighty oak trees. He’d been raised looking for the riches in his future, not looking back at ancient glories.

  They flew over the walls into the heart of Necropolis.

  Giants had to have lived here. The towers were double the height of the Needle, narrower and more elegant, too, with hundreds of gargoyles roosted on each. Bridges as thin as knives arched between them, hundreds of feet above the ground, and Lily’s Great Hall could have fit inside any one of the palaces twice over. The ground was not covered by mere cobblestones or flagstones, but wild, endless mosaics that formed weird, mesmerizing patterns of dark and light.

  Lily had a word for this kind of architecture: sinister. Like Castle Gloom, which was meant to frighten visitors. It made your skin turn cold, and the hairs on the back of your neck rise up. Despite its lack of windows, the place was drafty, and a chill breeze would raise goose bumps, made all the worse by the suspicion that it was the breath of a passing ghost.

  You got used to it, mostly.

  There was so much to see here, it made Thorn’s head spin. He needed to explore at ground level, where he could concentrate on the details. The view from up high was too overwhelming.

  “Let’s settle down there,” he said, nudging Hades in the side with his left knee. Hades resisted.

  He wants to go after the phoenixes.

  “No, not yet. We’re to keep out of trouble, understand?”

  The bat swooped, and a few moments later, his claws clinked on the black shoulders of a toppled statue.

  Thorn counted out his arrows and double-checked his bow. The bone-tipped arrows were standing up t
o the travels better than he’d feared. None had chipped—a common problem with bone; each remained needle-sharp.

  Thorn addressed Hades. “Let me look around a bit. You just stay here, and don’t touch anything. Got it?”

  Hades blinked. He got it.

  Thorn set off.

  Wind moaned through the arches, dragging along dust and a chill ambience. Thorn shivered. It felt as if he were being watched, but there was no one lurking in the empty doorways or peering through the narrow, tall windows. He thought he caught a glimpse of someone just beyond the dark wall opening, but it turned out to be a shadow created by the shifting clouds.

  Over time, magic had deteriorated. Today’s sorcerers were like infants compared to those who had built all this.

  He thought back to the frozen statues out in the desert. Maybe being smaller and weaker was better. Today’s sorcerers couldn’t cause such widespread damage.

  His arrow nocked, Thorn crept along the silent, ancient streets. That spot between his shoulder blades itched—as if there were eyes upon it—but the only company was the wind, which whispered eerie, fractured threats and malevolent promises.

  The wind also carried with it the sharp sting of the Devil’s Breath, the deadly gas he’d encountered back in the desert. It seeped up through the cracks and crevasses that scarred the city, and Thorn wondered if, given Necropolis’s history, there was a simpler reason it was called the Devil’s Breath.

  Thorn spun at a groaning noise, the bowstring drawn to his cheek, but it was just a door swinging on its rusty hinges. He paused at the doorway and peered in.

  They looked like mounds of silk at first. After his eyes adjusted to the semidarkness, he realized what they really were: skeletons covered in dusty cobwebs.

  They knelt in a circle, still holding hands. Two bigger people—the parents—facing each other, and two children between them. Their once-fine clothes were now moldy rags, but each of them wore enough jewelry to buy Thorn ten acres of rich farmland and the livestock to fill it. The woman’s bracelet alone would get him a dozen sheep with change.

  She don’t need it.

  Yet nothing could tempt Thorn to cross that threshold, no matter how big his eyes grew at the treasure scattered a few feet inside. The plates of silver and gold, the gem-encrusted books, all so near, but untouchable.