by Joshua Khan
Sure, there were bigger oaks in Herne’s Forest. Grandpa said there was one, deep in the heart of Herne’s Forest, so tall it held up the sky.
But an oak had earned it, starting off as a minute sapling, then spending centuries rising, surviving bitter winters and blistering summers, the floods and the droughts to become what it was. An oak had a right to be proud.
You’ve been away from home too long.
Home. Where was that? Herne’s Forest, or Castle Gloom? Both were thousands of miles away.
Nothing grew here, nor had anything in hundreds of centuries. The soil was bitter and lifeless. It wasn’t merely dead but seeping with a hatred of the living. That intuition made his skin crawl. Thorn had spent countless days lying on cool grass, gazing at clouds drifting by and listening to bees buzzing from flower to flower. His dad had once said that if Thorn listened carefully he would hear the roots growing deep into the earth, and when that happened, he’d have learned all there was to know about the forest. Thorn had lain there, ear pressed down, trying to understand the secrets of all green things.
What secrets were there here? What wisdom?
Thorn grunted. None he could see or hear. If they had been wise, they wouldn’t have destroyed themselves.
And over what? A crown. A mere circlet of metal that any blacksmith could have knocked out in an afternoon. He never understood why people wanted to mind other people’s business when there weren’t enough hours in the day to mind their own.
Look at Lily. More and more she was getting others to do the things she should be doing because she was too busy getting involved in the affairs of others. Others who might not appreciate her involvement. This whole trip was a perfect example. She should have stayed in Castle Gloom and he with her.
“Leave the crowing to the cockerel.”
Hades rustled his wings.
“Just one of Grandpa’s sayings,” said Thorn, brushing grit out of one of the leathery folds.
Hades sneered. It seemed he didn’t think much of his grandpa, either.
All this pondering was getting him nowhere. He needed to save K’leef and Lily. They weren’t capable of saving themselves. Lily was too dangerous to Jambiya, with or without her magic, and K’leef’s stupid honor probably had him tangled in knots.
But he knew what Jambiya wanted.
Thorn spotted the bright flames above the tallest tower as the pair of phoenixes did their aerial dance over their nest.
There was only one solution: swap the egg for his two friends. He didn’t really care what type of ruler Jambiya would be as long as he was on the other side of the world when he put on that lava crown. K’leef could come to Gehenna with them.
But to make all this happen, he needed an egg box.
The place reminded him of Castle Gloom, and that was big enough. But this city…it seemed endless. The streets went on forever. He was also awestruck at the true height of the buildings all around him.
But its emptiness made him cold and uneasy; he was constantly glancing over his shoulder. Hades glided alongside him, swooping from one perch to another. When the bat clung to the outstretched arm of one statue, even Hades looked small.
Men couldn’t have built all this. Each doorway was a work of art, intricately carved and inlaid with mother-of-pearl, beaten silver, and delicate gemstones. The walls, though worn by exposure, still displayed extravagant friezes of past battles and tales now long forgotten.
So, whose work was it? Demons and devils that Prince Shadow would have summoned and bound to his service? What was the place like, back when such creatures walked alongside everyday folk? And the undead. Castle Gloom had more than its fair share of zombies and ghosts, but Necropolis must have heaved with the multitude of such creatures. Plenty of the buildings here were windowless, like Castle Gloom. The ideal dwellings for vampires and their kin.
Why had he thought that? Now he was scaring himself. Sunset wasn’t far away.
Thorn slipped into a house through an open door. The front hall was an atrium, open to the sky, and there was a dry pool in the center, the dust within it partially hiding a mosaic of chatting skulls and dancing skeletons. There were couches, the cushions long since rotted away, and a skeleton reclined on one, its skull slumped on a forearm as if it had drifted to sleep after a heavy meal and never woken. A glass vial was still clutched within its bony fingers.
Had the inhabitants known they were doomed? Had some decided to choose their own manner of death, dining on lavish dishes and enjoying rich wines instead of facing the armies that waited beyond the walls?
Thorn shook his head. He would never give up like that. There was always a way out if you were brave enough—or desperate enough, like a fox with a leg caught in a snare.
This place gave him the creeps. He didn’t want to stay any longer, but he needed a box.
It was in a bedroom that he found one. He didn’t recognize the wood, but it was thick and solid. He opened the lid and tipped out jewelry and coins.
There. Enough space for a melon. He just hoped the phoenix egg would fit…and the spirits wouldn’t mind him taking it.
It had rings at either end, and he knotted a leather strap through them and hung the box from his shoulders. Then he hurried back onto the street.
Narrow blades of darkness cut the city from west to east. The top of the phoenix tower glowed brighter, contrasting with the darkening sky and…
Thorn spotted a golden glow of firelight ahead of him. It formed a humanish outline on the wall.
“K’leef?” Had his friend escaped?
The figure rounded the corner and, upon seeing Thorn, flared as lava-filled veins pulsed with unimaginable heat.
Why did it have to be him? Thorn sighed. “Been looking for me, Farn?”
FORTY
Thorn’s first instinct was to hop onto Hades’s back and fly far away. Instead, he waved Hades off as he circled overhead. The bat hissed angrily but stayed aloft and watchful.
Arrows would do no good against the efreet. They’d turn to ash ten paces from the creature. But if Thorn didn’t do something now, Farn would dog their steps all the way back to Nahas and, one night or another, catch them.
Farn waited, its white eyes pulsing with anticipation. Lava dripped from its fingertips and flames rippled across its blackened shell.
Thorn took a step back.
Farn edged forward.
Thorn could lose the fire monster in the endless streets and countless houses and palaces if he wanted to. How could it find him? It lacked the tools of tracking: it couldn’t hear, feel, taste, or smell. When you were without any one of the five senses, you needed to compensate in other ways, like Hades did, using his big ears to overcome his weak eyes. But Farn’s eyes were limited, too. They were tiny and set deep into its head, so it could probably only see what was right in front of it. Step a few paces left or right and you’d vanish.
Thorn’s dad had taught him how important the other senses, beyond sight, were to predator and prey. At night, vision was useless; it was your ears and your nose that kept you out of the bear’s belly.
Thorn knew the tang left by wolves. The scent of their spray on trees lingered for days, even to a nose as weak as his. And he knew how to mask his own scent with fern and mud so he could get close enough to a deer to touch it.
Yeah, everyone except hunters underestimated how important smell could be to a successful hunt.
Thorn sniffed the air. There was just the smallest acidic sting, as if someone had been slicing lemons—foul and decaying lemons. The odor was drifting in from the west.
He looked back at Farn. “What are you waiting for?” Then he turned and ran.
And so did Farn.
By the Six, the efreet was fast! Thorn dashed over a wall, and Farn smashed straight through it, hurling molten brick everywhere.
This wasn’t fair! Thorn had thought it could only plod along. Running wasn’t allowed!
The ground shook under the efreet’s thundering
footsteps, and the air on Thorn’s back burned.
Hades shrieked but couldn’t get to him. The alleyway was too narrow.
Farn made it wider by charging down it without pause. The buildings cracked, and a gargoyle tumbled onto the efreet’s head, disintegrating into a million pieces on impact. Farn did not falter a single step.
This wasn’t going how he’d planned.
“Argh!” Thorn’s caftan burst into flames. He stumbled and almost dropped his box as Farn hooked its fingers on the garment’s hem. Thorn wriggled out of it just before Farn turned him into a roast. The efreet searched the burning cloak as if expecting someone to still be inside it. Thorn didn’t linger long enough for the fire creature to realize its mistake.
Which way? This place was more confusing than Castle Gloom. Was it past the iron statue of the vampire on horseback? Or along the path lined with skulls? The trouble was, all the paths in Necropolis seemed to be lined with skulls.
He tried to control his heaving chest with a few deep breaths.
Farn wasn’t far behind. The vampire statue began steaming in the heated air.
Stop running like a panicked deer. Calm down.
Thorn closed his eyes and concentrated on the smells around him.
He could identify the not-so-fresh stink of his sweat; the hot city dust, which made him want to sneeze; the melting iron statue nearby; and the sulfurous odor of Farn. But there was also something else—sharp, stinging, and…
Thorn opened his eyes, looked to his left, and saw a large sunken square. Of course.
He ran, jumping down one broad step after another until he reached the cracked expanse, which measured more than a hundred feet across. Extravagant twisted columns lined the perimeter and were crowned with—what else?—grinning skulls.
Here the smell was thick and made his eyes run. Great, jagged fissures had turned the once-pristine floor into a treacherous mix of pits and slopes. Huge slabs of stone slanted downward into the darkness, and Thorn struggled to keep his footing. He didn’t want to know how deep those crevasses went.
The ground shook as Farn landed behind him.
Hades circled over the open square. The bat twitched his claws, but Thorn ordered him to stay back.
This was it.
He slowed down and turned to face the monstrous efreet. “Okay, I give up,” he said, panting. “I can’t go any farther. You win. Come and get me.”
Farn marched forward. The air around the creature began to shimmer and pop.
Thorn leaned against a large slab of marble. “I’m so, sooo tired. Can’t take another step. Honestly.”
Hades circled lower.
Farn began to tremble. It started in the arms and legs. The efreet raised its hands and stared at them as the lava spluttered and expanded from within, widening the cracks in its crusty exterior.
Now its chest pulsed. Fresh cracks appeared across its torso, spitting out burning rock.
Thorn smiled. “It’s the Devil’s Breath. You’d know that if you had a nose.”
He whistled, and Hades swooped. Thorn hooked his arm over a claw, and the pair of them rose twenty feet instantly.
Farn’s arm burst apart, and lava spewed from its open shoulder socket.
“Better take us higher,” said Thorn. “When it blows, it’s going to—”
Too late. There was a blinding, deafening explosion, which threw Hades into a tailspin. Thorn lost his balance and began to fall free of the bat.
The whole square was filled with Devil’s Breath, and one after another the deep crevasses, where the gas lay thickest, burst into flame.
Hades managed to clamp Thorn’s leg between his jaws just before they were toasted. The bat lifted clear of the fiery pits now covering the square.
Of Farn, nothing remained.
Thorn clambered back into his usual spot on Hades’s back. Huge clouds of smoke smothered them both, and Hades climbed higher and higher to get free. As soon as they reached clean air, boy and bat gulped it greedily. Then Thorn checked for damage. Thankfully, the bat hadn’t suffered any burns. Aside from losing his own eyebrows, he seemed okay, too. His bow was whole, the arrows were still in their quiver, and the box was sooty but intact.
In the distance, the phoenixes spun in their fiery dance in the dusk.
Thorn nudged the bat with his knee. “Come on, Hades. This marshmallow roast is over.”
FORTY-ONE
“What was that?” Lily stared at the huge column of fire in the distance. “Jambiya?”
“It can’t be. He couldn’t make a fire that big.” K’leef frowned. “And the noise…That wasn’t a spell. I’m sure of it.”
Lily narrowed her eyes. She thought she’d seen something within the clouds of smoke. Now she couldn’t be sure.
“We need to get a move on,” said K’leef.
“This way,” said Lily. They didn’t have time to investigate the fire. “We go along the Avenue of Endless Tears, past the Halls of Ancestors, and under the Arch of the Moon.”
“You sure?” asked K’leef.
“I’m very sure.” Tales of Necropolis had been her favorite book when she was small. Mary must have read it to her a thousand times. Sometimes Lily had forced her to read it several times in one night. The book had been lavishly illustrated, the margins crowded with images of ghosts and bats. She’d copied her favorite images onto scraps of parchment and, once, on an ancient scroll bearing the Spell of the Seven Witches, ruining its magic forever.
But most of all she’d admired the foldout map at the front.
Now, was the Street of the Ghast-Born down on the left, or straight ahead? She closed her eyes and tried to recall those quiet, candlelit nights with her on Mary’s lap and the book open before them. She pictured the map….
“Left. I’m certain it’s left.”
They continued on, staying alert to sounds and changes in the light. There were so many stories about this city, too many to absorb in a hundred lifetimes. To actually be here, that was something beyond her wildest dreams. How many people had searched in vain for Necropolis? Every Shadow had longed to visit the city once ruled by the founder of the family, the greatest necromancer who had ever lived. Everything Lily was had come from him.
Except…now her magic was gone.
She wouldn’t think about that. She was still a Shadow, no matter what. The blood of the prince flowed through her, and one day, she would regain her spells. No matter how long it took.
She saw the arching tails of the scorpions rising over the roofs of a row of storehouses.
K’leef whistled softly. “Avenue of the Scorpions. Which way to the towers?”
“Not sure,” she admitted. “I thought we’d be near the Garden of Misery, but that’s way over there. And I can’t find the Well of Mothers’ Grief.”
“Isn’t it beside Pale Heart Palace?” suggested K’leef, pointing at the towering building ahead of them.
“Maybe. Shall we try?”
It was as good a plan as any, taking a shortcut through the palace itself. The tower was easy enough to spot, with the phoenix fires lighting it, but they didn’t have Hades to fly them over the buildings that blocked their way.
They entered through a vast courtyard. The steps leading to the open gates were carved out of the bones of giants, and the columns were crowned with huge skulls.
“It gets a bit repetitive, don’t you think?” K’leef tapped the doorposts, each designed as a skeleton with raised arms.
“Why mess with perfection?” Lily replied. As far as she was concerned, it was impossible to criticize anything about House Shadow, especially here.
They reached the top of the stairs. The great demon doors were wide open. Still, Lily hesitated before stepping inside. Those demons were locked in iron and stone, but would they awaken if she tried to enter?
She gulped but put her foot over the threshold.
The demons remained where they were, and she sighed with relief. “Come on, K’leef.”
What would they find within Pale Heart Palace? Treasures? Magical artifacts from the Age of the Six? Perhaps she would discover Prince Shadow’s own library. The one in Castle Gloom held only a few shelves of knowledge compared to the one in Necropolis. And such spells! Prince Shadow had been able to alter the path of the moon itself.
She wanted to explore every corridor, search every room and hall. Then…
She spun around. “Did you see that?”
“Hmm?”
Lily took a few steps down a side hallway. She was sure she’d seen something.…“There!”
A figure, a person, ran from a dark corner and vanished after taking a left turn.
“There!”
“What?” K’leef screwed up his eyes. “I didn’t see anything.”
“Come on.” Lily picked up the pace. “Now, K’leef!”
They dashed around the corner, and Lily began to run. Who could it be? Was it Thorn? No, he wouldn’t run from them. There was someone new here; she had to find out who it was.
“Slow down, Lily!” panted K’leef.
“Wait!” Lily turned another corner just in time to see the figure disappear through a door. “Stop! We need to talk!”
“Lily! Where are you?” K’leef’s cries echoed from this way and that. She turned but didn’t see him. He couldn’t be far behind.
“Lily…Lily…” The shouts faded.
She tried to retrace her steps, but it did no good. That wall hadn’t been there before, had it?
The palace was changing. It was trapping her…or guiding her.
The only way is forward.
Every few yards there was a new marvel, like lanterns that floated in the air, their flames long extinguished and their metal rusty orange and green.
She entered another hall.
Mirrors the size of ships’ sails ran along both walls. Lily’s reflection fell into the glass, multiplied infinite times.