Burning Magic

by Joshua Khan

  She rubbed her fingers over the dusty surface and peered in. Her reflection stared back, but it looked slightly different. It gazed at her with its own intelligence, showing features that were better proportioned and more elegant, and clothes that were cleaner, better cut, and made from finer materials. It was a superior version of herself.

  Her reflections varied even more the deeper they went into the mirror world. They were older, or younger; they wore strange hair and clothing styles. Some versions weren’t even female. Far, far in the back she met the gaze of herself as an old man. He tipped his hat at her.

  On any other day, that might have felt odd. Lily just waved back. It seemed the polite thing to do.

  Which way should she go? The palace went on forever.

  A whisper drifted into the hall. The words were too faint for her to understand, but the sound was distinct enough to lead Lily to a doorway.

  The black marble door was partially ajar.

  Lily pushed it open wider. Despite the age and dust and sand, the door swung easily and silently.

  Into a throne room.

  A cracked, crystalline dome covered the circular hall. Light shone down into the center and onto the throne, a giant, high-backed piece of obsidian.

  A man still sat upon it.

  He looked young, about the same age as she, but his eyes were dark and old, very old. He wore the rich black clothes of a Shadow noble: a velvet cape and trousers, tall leather boots, and a silk tunic embroidered with patterns.

  He smiled. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you, Lady Shadow.”

  FORTY-TWO

  Could this be the ghost of Prince Shadow? Her heart leaped with hope—and abject fear—at the idea.

  “Do you…do you know me?” Lily stammered.

  The boy stood. “I know of you. The underworld praises your name, and your deeds have come to the ears of the great and terrible.”

  “That’s nice,” she replied cautiously. “And you are…?”

  He bowed. “I am Bitter Promise.”

  “That’s not a real name.”

  “Names have power; surely a Shadow understands that more than most?” His dark eyes glistened. “My kind only reveal their names to their very closest friends, and masters.”

  Lily caught her breath. “A demon?”

  “Let’s agree I come from somewhere very far away.”

  “Far away” was one way of putting it. Lily had gone into the Twilight, the area between the world of the living and the dead. She’d also explored the Dreamtime, that patchwork kingdom made of everyone’s dreams. But Bitter Promise had come from a place much, much farther than either of those.

  She squinted at him to get a better look. There hadn’t been a demon around in centuries. Commanding the undead and raising zombies from the grave was child’s play compared to summoning such creatures from their own realm. She wouldn’t even know how to start.

  But she did know that you couldn’t trust them. They were lords of deceit.

  And granters of wishes.

  “What do you want?” she asked, still keeping a wary distance between them both. “And what have you done with K’leef?”

  “Your companion? Nothing. I merely wanted a few minutes to talk with you privately.”

  As he approached her, he changed. His body and clothes transformed so Bitter Promise became a young, dark-haired woman, not unlike Lily herself—or how she used to be before her magic had turned her hair white. They could be sisters.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Why not?” answered Bitter Promise. “I want us to be friends. Allies. I can help you, Lady Shadow. Help you regain what you have lost—regain that, and so much more.”

  “My magic?” Lily’s pulse raced.

  “I was bound in the service of your ancestor, Prince Shadow. That is why I am here. I serve House Shadow. I could serve you.”

  Lily tried to gather herself. “How?”

  Bitter Promise’s eyes darkened, and their endless depth frightened Lily. “Think, Lady Shadow. What is the oldest law of the New Kingdoms?”

  “Women cannot practice magic. The penalty is death by fire.”

  “Think hard. What difference would it make if they could? Why are men so afraid? They are afraid because women would be more powerful. Are you not proof of that?”

  “I have no magic at all.”

  The girl’s smile was cold and sly. “I can fix that. I can teach you everything the high queen knew.”

  “So it is true; there was a high queen.” Strange that she couldn’t believe it when others had told her yet somehow she believed it from the lips of this demon. “What happened to her?”

  Bitter Promise smoothed her long black hair. “I was there when they killed her. All six of them came for her. They hunted her through the corridors of the palace until they drove her here. Then, one by one, they plunged their swords into her. She could have destroyed them easily. But she chose not to.”

  “Why not?”

  “Love.”

  Lily’s lungs felt squeezed within her chest. This was her terrible dream. All of them coming for her, and her unable, unwilling, to defend herself. “Then what happened?”

  “The Six passed a law forbidding women to practice magic. They were afraid that others would one day learn what their sister knew.”

  “And what was that?”

  “She knew of a magic that surpassed all that of her brothers. Beyond the command of fire, water, earth, air, light, and darkness. The seventh sorcery.”

  “There is no…”

  The girl grabbed Lily’s arm. “Stop it! Stop thinking within the walls that men have built around you! The prison they’ve made of your mind! We can be free, Lady Shadow!”

  Lily wrenched herself away. “Freedom? Is that what you want?”

  The demon pouted. “I have been a slave for countless millennia. Freedom is a small thing to you, but in return I will make you so, so great.”

  “What would you do with your freedom?” Lily asked. “Go home?”

  “Eventually. But I would seek some pleasures first.”

  Lily could imagine. An unbound demon was a terrible thing. For Bitter Promise, pleasures would take the form of blood, slaughter, and carnage.

  But these things existed already. What difference would one demon make? And she would have her magic back…her magic and more.

  Bitter Promise stepped aside from the throne. “This has been empty too long. It could be yours. All you need do is take a little step.”

  “Prince Shadow’s throne…”

  She’d seen many paintings of it, but they’d all been from the artist’s imagination. This was the real thing. Simpler than she’d expected, yet, strangely, more powerful because of that.

  “A kiss—one simple kiss—is all it will require. I will be free, and you will be restored with all the magic you have lost, and more.” Bitter Promise stepped closer, and Lily noticed how sharp the creature’s teeth were. “I promise.”

  Lily backed away. “And that would be a bitter one, right?”

  “What?”

  Lily backed away from the throne and Bitter Promise. “The deal. There are many tales about the bad deals we mortals have made with your kind, as well as other creatures: fairies, spirits, and mermaids. They always end poorly for us. We get what we want, but the cost is too high.”

  “Such tales are for weaklings, not the bold like yourself.” Bitter Promise scowled. “You could have everything you ever dreamed of. More power than any other sorcerer alive.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “You’re happy to live the rest of your life as a mere mortal? Without any spellcraft?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Lily replied. “By the way, your name, Bitter Promise—you didn’t pick it yourself, did you? Prince Shadow gave it to you.”

  “What of it?”

  “It’s not a name. It’s a warning to anyone who might cross your path.”

  “You will regret this decision,”
snarled the demon. “And sooner than you—”

  “Lily!”

  K’leef stumbled into the hall, and Bitter Promise disappeared. K’leef rested his hands on his knees as he gathered his breath. “Found you.”

  Lily hugged her friend. “Thank you.”

  “Er, that’s all right. Is everything okay?”

  Lily faltered. “I was lost. And worried.”

  K’leef didn’t look convinced. “Did you find it? The thing you were chasing?”

  She shook her head. “It was nothing. My imagination. Trick of the light, perhaps.”

  “Hmm. Perhaps.” K’leef took her hand. “Come on. We need to find Thorn.”

  She let him lead her out, but Lily stopped at the door and looked back. The throne sat empty except for its bitter promise of power.

  FORTY-THREE

  Thorn rested his elbows on Hades’s head as he pondered how to get the egg. The phoenixes were fast, agile in the air, and made of fire. Hades was old. But he was still as swift and cunning as a snake. And his wickedly long claws could tear through steel.

  The phoenixes hunted as a pair, just like some hawks. One would drive the prey into the clutches of the other. As long as Hades didn’t fall for that and he stayed ahead of them, maybe he could outdistance them and double back to the nest.

  Thorn bit his lip. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was getting dark.

  He didn’t need to tell Hades any of this; the bat knew what he was thinking. Hades dropped off the perch—one of Necropolis’s spiky towers—and spread out his wings as he picked up speed. Thorn checked his quiver and thrummed his bowstring. The sound calmed him.

  Up and up they went, toward the comfort of the moon. In this twilight, Hades was almost invisible. Gliding down, he’d also be utterly silent. The phoenixes wouldn’t know what hit ’em.

  Thorn readied his first arrow. He wasn’t planning to damage the birds, just dissuade them from getting too close. The last thing he wanted was a singed Hades. Burning fur stank.

  The phoenixes danced below them. They swooped and spun around each other, creating beautiful patterns of fire. The colors included brilliant greens and blues as well as bright yellow, gold, and red. They fanned flames over their nest, warming the eggs like a hen over her own. They lived on top of the highest tower in all Necropolis. They must have thought themselves safe from everything. Thorn grinned. “Time to put the bat among the pigeons.”

  Hades dove.

  FORTY-FOUR

  As Thorn had predicted, the phoenixes didn’t know Hades was there until he was right on top of them. Thorn and Hades felt their heat even from a dozen yards away. When they swept close to the birds, it was like they had charged through a forest fire. Hades roared as he used the beat of his mighty wings to buffet the phoenixes aside; then he spun away.

  The phoenixes screamed their rage and gave chase.

  “That got their attention,” Thorn commented.

  Dragons, from the stories he knew, breathed fire. Phoenixes trailed it. It fell from their wings, rippling to the side as they beat them, but they could not throw their flames forward, and that gave Hades his advantage. The bat wove through the towers, never using the same route twice. The phoenixes followed, just as swift, but unable to get ahead, unable to attack. That made them only more furious—they were used to ruling the skies over Necropolis. A few times they paused—having chased Hades across the city, they were on the verge of heading back to the nest—and Thorn taunted them with an arrow. Hades zipped between them, close enough to fuel their rage and urge them to continue their chase.

  But the phoenixes knew the city better than Hades, and they knew how to hunt.

  Thorn glanced back and saw just one behind him.

  Where was the other? Thorn turned his head in all directions. How could they have lost it?

  “This is bad….”

  Hades curled under a bridge spanning two lofty towers.

  The heat hit them first. Thorn yelled as if he’d been showered with burning coals, and Hades screamed, spinning sideways just as a comet of white flame blazed past, ripping into his left wing. Thorn grabbed hold desperately, staring in fear as the phoenixes reunited. They sensed victory.

  The bat dropped as the thin membrane on his wing tore and the fur on his chest smoked. He beat hard, but that only made things worse as a wave of fire swept over them from a passing phoenix.

  It lasted just a fraction of a second, but that fraction was agony. Thorn gasped for air as they broke away. It felt as if every inch of him had been pierced—another second and he would have ignited. If a phoenix scored a direct hit, he’d be ash.

  The two birds circled back, close now, and created a wall of fire between them. If Thorn didn’t break them up, Hades would soon be engulfed in flame.

  Thorn flexed his aching fingers. He had one opportunity to make a shot. It had to be up close so the phoenix couldn’t dodge it. If he missed…

  I don’t miss.

  Hades, hissing angrily, tried to fly faster, but the torn skin on his left wing flapped in the wind, making him less aerodynamic. They weren’t going to outdistance the pair of raptors.

  The heat beat on Thorn’s back as the phoenixes closed in.

  One shot was all he needed. Leaning over Hades, Thorn slipped his arrow into place. There weren’t many left in his quiver.

  The heat became agonizing.

  Not yet. Not yet.

  His clothes started smoldering.

  Not yet….

  The tips of Hades’s fur caught fire.

  Thorn turned, bowstring pulled to his cheek.

  The phoenix glared, just yards from him. The eyes of the creature were two blinding spots of sun, too painful to meet; its crest was a crown of fire that blazed intense blue. Its body was coated with silver and gold feathers that rippled with heat, and its wide, shimmering wings streamed flames. Its beak opened as the phoenix prepared to tear Thorn apart.

  Thorn loosed.

  The phoenix screamed as the arrow flew straight down its gullet. The bird broke formation, and the second bird hesitated and almost crashed into a wall.

  Hades gave a sudden surge, and they were away.

  Thorn let out a sigh. That was as close to death as he ever wanted to get. “Hades, you okay?” He stroked the bat’s smoking shoulder.

  Hades snarled.

  “Yeah, this plan ain’t working.”

  Hades was slower now, the air dragging through the tear in his wing, and both phoenixes were gaining—clearly the arrow hadn’t done any real harm—determined to regain their dominance over the skies.

  “Not good.” Thorn hunkered down on Hades, cutting down the air resistance as much as he could. “Watch out!”

  A series of arches spanning two buildings was dead ahead. Hades pulled in his wings just enough to get through. Then he doubled back, surprising the birds, but not for long. They were side by side now, looking to finish them off once and for all.

  Then Thorn saw the water.

  This wasn’t a bridge—it was an aqueduct. Water still ran along the gullies. He’d seen the flowing fountains when he was on the ground.

  Somewhere in the distance there was a stream or a river, still feeding the city, even after all this time.

  How big was the source of the water? He had no idea.

  “Turn around!” he yelled. “Now!”

  As the wind rushed against him, Hades pushed himself harder to try to create a gap between him and the fiery hunters.

  The columns supporting the aqueduct were slender and old. A few of them leaned at odd angles, and water trickled down through cracks in the disjointed stone.

  Thorn picked one. “There!”

  He jumped.

  There was a brief moment of free fall; then he hit the path of water, bouncing, sliding, and splashing along, making sure every bone got a bashing and his head received a few good knocks before he locked his fingers on a jutting piece of stone. At least the water cooled his scorched flesh.

 
; He stumbled to his feet, standing waist-deep in the gully of water. The phoenixes arced around the far edge of a building, so close to one another that their wing tips touched, forming an inescapable line of flames.

  Thorn pulled himself over the edge of the channel, shimmied down one of the columns, and sat with his back against it. Then he placed the soles of both feet against another column—the one that was already tilted at a dangerous angle—and pushed with all his might.

  “Move,” he snarled as he kicked loose a brick. “Move!”

  Hades hovered nearby, watching. If Thorn failed, the bat didn’t have enough speed now to get away.

  The stone groaned as the bricks shifted. Dust fell out of old cracks, and water splashed down from the gully overhead.

  Another few inches…

  The heat wave built in intensity. The phoenixes were so bright that it hurt to look at them.

  Thorn slammed his feet against the stone. “Move!”

  The column cracked.

  “Move!”

  The heat was unbearable. The phoenixes would fly through the arches any second now and Thorn would go up in smoke.

  Teeth gritted, and using every ounce of strength and determination he had, he heaved one last time. “Move!”

  The column crumbled, unable to withstand both the pressure at its side and the weight above.

  Water cascaded down as the aqueduct broke apart, not just in that spot, but all along, as the loss of that one column destroyed the integrity of the whole. The noise of shattering stone was deafening.

  The narrow arch Thorn was on gave way. There was loose stone and water everywhere.

  The phoenixes screamed as the spray hit them. They hissed and filled the air with steam. Trapped by the falling stone and water, they tumbled down, spinning uncontrollably as their flames began to flicker and go out.

  Hades snatched Thorn out of his free fall, and a moment later, he’d clambered back into place on the bat, gasping but relieved.

  The phoenixes were down, their flames extinguished. Thorn clapped, then flung his arms around Hades’s neck. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”