by Joshua Khan
“That’s it!” K’leef snapped his fingers. “The yolk—it protected you from the phoenix fire. You are stupidly lucky, Thorn.”
Lily hugged him again. “It was a fair trade: you for the phoenix. Let’s get going.”
Thorn frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, no, Thorn. We are going home now. We are not still after a phoenix. Forget it.”
He shrugged. “If you say so. Then I’d better say good-bye.”
“Good-bye?” Lily asked.
Thorn whistled.
What was he up to now?
A small bundle of fire appeared from a window ledge above them. It shook and sparked and then…spread its wings. It tottered, waving those small wings awkwardly, then, tilted off into the air. It flapped hard and drifted a bit left and right before finding its rhythm. Then it circled over the three of them, showering them with minute, multicolored fairy lights before settling on the top of a wall. It gave a small cry of delight.
“There was more than just yolk in that egg,” said Thorn. “And before you ask, Lily, the answer is ‘nope.’ You are never gonna hear the end of this.”
Lily approached the small bird. “Is this what I think it is?”
It hiccupped a flame.
“A phoenix chick,” said Thorn. “Ain’t named her yet.”
“You can tell it’s a her?”
Thorn frowned at her. “Of course. It’s obvious.”
The bird flapped her small wings, excited by the attention.
“Her flames are still quite weak.” K’leef held out his hand, and the phoenix, hesitating only for a moment, jumped on. K’leef winced; clearly the bird was hot. Then he smiled. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. How are you controlling her?”
“I ain’t. She’s just taken it on herself to tag along. She can leave anytime she wants.”
But the chick clearly didn’t want to, even with the phoenixes flying overhead.
How did Thorn do it? Lily shrugged to herself. Why even try to understand him? He’d always be a mystery to her.
They stood side by side, her best friends in the whole world. The prince of Djinn and the peasant boy of Herne’s Forest. They were as different as could be.
K’leef. Handsome, elegant, studious, and a sorcerer.
And Thorn, none of those things.
It seemed to her that her life hadn’t really started until he had come around. The Lily she was now was due to him and all his uncouth, untactful, and insolent ways.
K’leef was more right than he knew: there really wasn’t anyone like him.
Suddenly the bird squawked and flew up to hide in a window.
“Hey!” shouted Thorn. “Come back down here!”
K’leef backed away. “We’ve got company….”
The ghosts had found them.
There were wraiths, formed of misery and regret: thin shadowy creatures so ancient that their true forms had been long forgotten, even by themselves. There were ghuls that nested in crevasses and hunted the few brave and foolish adventurers that sometimes, somehow, made their way to the dark city. There were specters that had come through the Veil, which was thin and easily breached in places like this.
And the forlorn spirits. Those who had trusted and served Lily’s legendary ancestor, Prince Shadow. They had died for him in countless numbers and still lingered, trapped by their unjust deaths.
The boys gathered on either side of Lily—K’leef on her left, Thorn on the right. Thorn scanned the approaching ethereal crowd, arrow ready. “I have eight arrows left.”
“Eight? What use are eight arrows against this horde?” asked K’leef.
“Feel free to sweep them all away with your spells,” snapped Thorn. “Anytime you like.”
“Magic’s not like that!”
Thorn scoffed. “You’re about as much use as pants on a pig.”
“Let me guess: your grandpa?” asked Lily.
Thorn loosed an arrow into the nearest ghost. It vanished in a swirl of sparkling mist. He drew another and smiled. “Yeah. That’s one of his favorite sayings. You ain’t heard it before?”
“We can discuss it later,” Lily said.
“Suit yourself. Just not sure how much ‘later’ we’ve got.”
Lily searched around and spotted an empty alley. “Run.”
Thorn flicked an arrow through another ghost as he spun on his heels and ran. K’leef plodded heavily behind. Smoke puffed out of his nostrils and minute fires danced on his fingertips, subconscious reactions to all the magic shaking up his system. She just hoped he didn’t burst into flames.
If only she had her—
No. What’s the point? I don’t. We’ll just have to figure out another way.
But she’d gotten used to it, hadn’t she? Less than a year—that’s all the time that had passed since she’d summoned Custard’s ghost, her first spell. The magic had come without training, just through sheer will, and regret. Since then she’d worked and studied and practiced—and wrestled with—her sorcery. She’d grown used to it. Not using it constantly, but having it there, like a shield and sword on the wall of an old fortress. Ready in case the need should arise.
I will get my magic back. No matter how long it takes.
But she needed to survive the here and now, and the chances of that suddenly diminished when they turned the corner and entered the ruins of a square.
There were three other exits, each spilling out countless ghosts. In the center stood the bottom half of a statue; the top half was rubble on the ground. When it was whole, it must have been hundreds of feet tall—the cracked half head was the size of a barn. Lily wondered if it might be Prince Shadow himself. Thorn scrabbled up the face. He balanced a foot on the nose and reached down for Lily’s hand. “Come on.”
He hauled her up and K’leef a moment later. Thorn’s energy and strength never seemed to flag. The boy just kept on going. He was bursting with life.
Hades swooped overhead, but the ghosts were now crawling over the buildings like ants, leaving him no room to land. They piled over the walls and statue fragments, a sea of spirits.
“Get back!” yelled K’leef. Flames poured from his palms and swept away dozens of the undead, but it didn’t last long, and as the fire died out, there were as many ghosts as before. Thorn’s bowstring hummed again and again, and each arrow found its mark, but soon he would have none left.
Lily, balanced on a broken piece of marble, looked out over the square and despaired.
The dead covered every inch of it. They crept across the floor and coated the buildings like ivy. Hades landed and tore at them, but they were as unsubstantial as mist and they began to climb over him, sucking his strength with their coldness.
There was no escape.
FIFTY
The ghosts poured in from all directions. They rose out of the stones and the thick fog. K’leef stumbled, exhausted and all his magic spent, and Thorn held his bow like a staff, ready to swipe at the undead surrounding them. He snarled, wild with a desperate fury, yelling at the hungry spirits.
Even with her magic Lily would never have been able to take them all, and now what chance did she have? She was a Shadow only in name.
A name that had lasted thousands of years, and would end here.
Mary would never know what happened; she’d wonder and wait till her last days. She’d always hope, despite the passage of years, that Lily would come back, and she’d never be willing to accept the possibility that Lily and her two friends were bones in the dust.
Would Lily linger in the Twilight, like her father? Or would she be trapped here, with these poor spirits?
Hades screamed and beat against the ghosts, but they were all over him and his attacks were becoming sluggish. Soon it would be too much even for the valiant bat.
“One…one more big spell…” K’leef gasped. “Enough…to let you make a run…” But the boy was on his knees, and Lily doubted he could light a match. She held his hand, and he smiled up at
her. “I’m sorry, Lily.”
“Come on! Try me!” roared Thorn, swinging his bow wildly at the creeping creatures. One of the ghosts grabbed the stave, and it rotted away in seconds. Thorn threw the remaining splinters at it. Then he backed up to join his friends, grinning. “This is exciting, isn’t it?”
She laughed and took his hand, too. Why not? “You never, ever give up, do you?”
“Give up? This is just the start!” He hurled a rock into the mass of encroaching death. It went straight through to bounce down along the road. He shrugged. “Ah, well.”
Hades was now under a mass of glowing mist; the ghosts had overwhelmed him. He still struggled and snapped, but it wouldn’t be long before they’d rob him of his life force. They swarmed over the old bat, feasting.
Thorn squeezed her hand. “Got a plan, Lady Shadow?”
“Oh, Lady Shadow is it now?”
“What? I always call you ‘Lady Shadow’!”
“Ha!” Now he used her title and family name. But she wasn’t much of a Shadow, not anymore. It was just a name. An ancient, soon-to-be-wiped-out name…
But names have power….
They had a magic of their own. Lily thought back to the way people reacted when they heard hers: with awe and dread. She’d hardly ever needed to use her necromancy; the name alone was enough.
But would it be enough here?
There was only one way to find out. She released her hold on her two friends and stepped toward the ghosts.
“Lily!” Thorn yelled. “What are you doing?”
“My name is Lilith Hecate Shadow!” Lily cried. “And that is a name you all know well! I am a child of the great Prince Shadow, your lord and master! His blood runs in these veins!”
Did they hesitate? She couldn’t be sure. There were so many, she felt like a person standing on a rock in high tide, the sea rising all around her.
“You are creatures of the darkness, creatures spilled from the Twilight, that place between life and death. Look back and ask about me—I am well known. Go to the Pit, and you will hear my name whispered by the dukes of hell!”
She stood up straighter, defying them. “Ask the specters, who fear me. Ask the zombies, who serve me. Ask the shades of Castle Gloom, who are my friends and allies. Ask the dread monsters, who follow at my heels.”
That was an odd way to describe Custard, but it was technically correct.
Lily glared at the spirits. “Go ask them what I do to those who defy my will!”
She stepped closer toward the ghosts, head aloft, arms loose by her side. If they wanted her, they just needed to reach out….
They parted before her.
“I don’t believe it…” whispered Thorn from a few paces behind her.
Of course it was a bluff. She had no power, but her name did. Power that stretched back to the very founding of this capital.
The ghosts didn’t remember much—how could they? They were the bitter remnants of a crime committed in the days of legend. They did not recall their old lives, their friends and loved ones. But they still remembered the name Shadow.
They feared it and, even now, served those who bore it.
Hades tore free of the ghosts and soared into the night sky with a raging cry. He swooped down over the dead once, then rose up to settle himself, panting and watchful, on a tower.
Lily could still feel the nearest spirits sucking life and warmth from her. But she could not let herself shiver; she would not show any weakness. They needed to believe that she was the rightful heir to their prince, and his sorcery still lived in her.
“Stay close to me,” she warned her two friends. “We’re leaving.”
As she’d hoped, the ghosts parted before her as she led Thorn and K’leef out. Lily looked into the spirits’ faces, into the empty eyes that were so hopeless, so sad, and so lost. They had been abandoned by their ruler and forgotten by his descendants.
Loyal till death and beyond. It broke her heart to see the useless devotion they had to her. They were hers to command.
An army of undead, the likes of which the world had never seen in thousands of years. Who could stop them? The thought of it made her head spin. She thought of the high queen, the words of Kismet. Was this her destiny, after all? To be the high queen?
She only needed to give the command and the crown of the New Kingdoms could be hers.
But there was only one command she could give. No one should serve forever.
“Go,” she told them kindly. “You are free now. You have been loyal long enough.”
That was all it took.
Dappled with starlight, the ghosts of Necropolis finally found peace. The ones closest reached out to touch her.
In the distance, soft, sparkling lights carpeted the city.
The starlight gathered around her, each one a departing soul. This was no dark presence, full of anger and misery. She felt joy and gratitude. She glimpsed old memories, of families of Necropolis when it had been filled with sunlight and life.
Her heart swelled as a comforting warmth spread through every fiber. It surrounded her, encased her like the embrace of her mother. The people of Necropolis shone all around; everywhere she looked she saw the light of a brilliant soul.
They whispered to her, words in languages that hadn’t been spoken in thousands of years, so old that even she did not understand them, but she knew what they meant. There was thanks, affection, and, most of all, an overwhelming love, unlike any she’d ever experienced.
Each spirit held her for a moment, shining brightly; then, one by one, they disappeared.
Lily didn’t need her sorcery to know the difference between mere retreating to the half realms and true departure to the Far Shore. They would not be returning.
Thorn watched, agog. “You’ve done it, Lily. You saved us.”
“And them,” added K’leef. “You saved all of us.”
“They’re gone…” said Lily, stunned. All of them. Not one lingered on this side of the Veil.
How do I know that?
Shadows stirred around her. Not those made by the moonlight, or the flames of the phoenix, but those she willed to come forth. They rippled across the ground and settled upon her shoulders.
“Your magic…but how?” asked K’leef.
Blessings of the Dead. What else could it be? It had happened when she’d summoned Sa’if to say good-bye to his brother, and it had happened now. But this time the effect on her was a thousand times more powerful.
She smiled at her Djinnic friend. “There’ll be plenty of time for me to explain later.”
Hades shrieked overhead. A swirl of fire spun over him, then dove down to settle on a bone perch. As the small phoenix shook its wings, flaming motes fell off its feathers. It looked at them expectantly, blinking its brilliant glowing golden eyes.
K’leef walked up to it and let out a soft whistle. The bird hopped onto his outstretched forearm. The sleeve creased and blackened and turned to ash, but K’leef’s magic protected his flesh. He stroked the phoenix’s head, and the bird seemed to chuckle.
“She likes you,” said Thorn.
K’leef blushed. “But she’s your pet. I can’t take her.”
“Pet? That phoenix ain’t anyone’s pet.” Thorn looked over at Hades. “Besides, I’m busy enough dealing with this monster.”
Lily hooked her arm through K’leef’s. “What will you call her?”
K’leef let the phoenix fly. It was newborn and wanted to explore.
“Almudhannab,” he said.
Lily nodded. “That’s a good name.”
“What’s it mean?” asked Thorn.
K’leef smiled widely as the bird wove through the night sky. “Comet.”
FIFTY-ONE
“Ameera’s waiting,” said Thorn as he and Hades landed next to Lily and K’leef. “She’s brought her sisters.”
K’leef steadied his horse. “What does she want?”
“A fight.”
Thorn idly fl
icked sand from Hades’s ears. He couldn’t wait to get back to Gehenna. He reckoned he’d be shaking sand out of his skin for the next six months.
But first there was the matter of a treacherous sister to be dealt with….
“What are you waiting for?” asked Gabriel. “Have her chained and executed. It’s the only way. That’ll set an example for the rest.”
Thorn met Lily’s gaze. He knew how she was feeling. Of all the people likely to survive the Shardlands, Gabriel should have been at the bottom of the list. Yet here he was, being as pompous and unpleasant as ever, and looking as splendid as always on his white horse. He was dressed for a parade, his tunic pearl white and his buttons polished silver, his hair that unnatural pale blond, and his eyes a brilliant sapphire. It was all magic, of course—the clothes were nothing but rags and hide, the buttons were made of cheap tin, and the steed was a bony donkey. Thorn had seen behind Gabriel’s mask. Too bad Gabriel’s magic wasn’t good for anything more than mere vanity.
It had taken them two weeks to get back from the Shardlands. They’d sent word ahead that K’leef had captured a phoenix and therefore was the new sultan. Now they were just a few miles out of Nahas.
Ameera had chosen a good spot for a confrontation: outside of the city, where there would be no one but her sisters around. The land was barren except for a few boulders and dusty trees, none of them large enough to hide any ambushers.
The sun lingered just above the sea, as if eager to witness the scene before allowing the night to come. But even the smallest stones left long shadows, something Ameera might regret.
“What do you think, Lily?” asked K’leef.
She sat alongside him on her own fire steed, looking every inch the desert princess. “You’re the sultan, K’leef. This needs to be your decision, and yours alone.”
Thorn admired her for not saying anything more about Ameera. It was only natural that she would want revenge—Ameera had robbed her of her magic. But Lily had suggested nothing of the sort, leaving the heavy thinking to K’leef. He needed to get used to it if he wanted to be sultan. Which, as everyone knew, he really didn’t.