The Burning Kingdoms

by Sally Green

  Twist stood very still. He didn’t look angry or violent, just curious. He was even smiling a little.

  Tash wasn’t sure what to say, and she knew demons spoke in pictures, not words, but she held her hand out, and Twist slowly put his hand in hers.

  It’s good to see you, Twist. Even if you can’t understand me. But I need to take Frost to Ambrose.

  She tried to show with her mind what she was going to do, but before she had formed the images properly, she felt Twist’s grip on her hand tighten and she knew he was glad she was alive, that he was happy to see her.

  I’ve got so many questions, Twist. So much to say. But I really don’t know how to say any of it.

  Again she felt a wave of something good, almost like an invisible hand lifting her and comforting her. And Twist was smiling.

  Then he took his hand away and stepped aside.

  AMBROSE

  DEMON TUNNELS

  AMBROSE WAS breathing hard, his sword arm shaking. The purple smoke that swirled over the ground was thinning to reveal bloodied bodies at his feet. The Brigantines had fought to the last at the base of the cavern, but they were beaten. However, there was still work to do—he needed to ensure the tunnel entrances were secured and then check on his losses. He turned to look for Geratan, and instead saw Tash pulling Frost toward him by her hair.

  Tash touched his arm.

  This is Frost.

  I gathered that.

  She can’t hear me. I’m just holding her hair. She says she knows what’s happening to the cavern and demons. She says it’s important.

  Ambrose shook his head. She’ll say anything—her life depends on it. But I’ll deal with her, Tash. Thank you.

  Tash released the girl and Ambrose took her arm, but the girl didn’t try to escape. Rather, she put her arms tight round his waist, clinging to him.

  Thank you for rescuing me from the Brigantines. I’ve been so afraid.

  The voice in Ambrose’s head was soft and desperate. Frost looked up at him. Her eyes were beautiful. Silver, like March’s, but shining lilac in the purple light of the cavern. But Ambrose wasn’t interested in their beauty.

  We haven’t rescued you. You’re a prisoner. You’ve been working for the Brigantines.

  They forced me. I was their slave. I’m Abask. A slave’s life is all I know. The Brigantines would have killed me if I didn’t do as they demanded. But I see you already know how cruel they are. They killed all my family too.

  Ambrose shook his head. You’re looking into my thoughts? My past?

  Your thoughts are open. As are mine. See—I’m not hiding my suffering from you.

  And a vision filled Ambrose’s head of Frost working in a mine, dragging carts of stone. Beaten, starved, watching her fellow Abasks die.

  Yes, you suffered. But still you worked for them, Ambrose replied.

  And so did you. You were a guard to the royal household. And I see you were a favorite of Princess Catherine.

  Frost released her hold a fraction and looked up in surprise. Oh, now I know who you are. Sir Ambrose Norwend. I’ve heard of you.

  I don’t have time to compare past horrors. Tash said you have useful information about the demons and the smoke. What is it?

  Yes, I do have information. And now that I have seen your thoughts and memories, I know it will be more than useful—it will be vital. I know what’s going to happen here in the demon world. And I know what’s going to happen to the smoke. I can help you. Frost smiled up at Ambrose. And I can help Catherine too.

  Catherine? How? What is this information?

  I’ve felt your love for your princess, your queen—and she is in great danger.

  Ambrose shook his head. What are you talking about?

  Your love will die if you don’t act to help her. Isn’t your duty to protect her? Isn’t that what you’ve vowed to do?

  And if you’ve truly seen my memories, then you’ll know Catherine has freed me from that vow.

  Frost shook her head. But you aren’t free, are you? You’re tied to her through that vow forever. Well, she’ll die soon unless you listen to me.

  And why should I believe you?

  Believe your own eyes, Sir Ambrose. Look around. This demon world is changing, isn’t it? Changing faster and faster.

  It was true. The enormous column of smoke, the core, was rising higher with every moment and the whole cavern was getting hotter.

  And what’s that got to do with Catherine?

  This world is ending. I know how it will happen. I’ve seen into the demons’ thoughts. I know how their world is built—and how it will die and be reborn.

  The demon world was changing, but could he trust a word this girl said? How could a world die and be reborn?

  Tell me, then.

  Frost shook her head. I’ll tell you everything if you take me back to the human world.

  It seems to me more like you’ll tell me anything if I take you back to the human world.

  That’s for you to judge. But you’ll be glad to be there when I tell you. You’ll want to be near your queen.

  Ambrose chewed his lip and looked at the situation around him. His mission had succeeded. They’d destroyed the smoke store and captured or killed all the Brigantines. Catherine had asked him to hold the cavern as long as possible, but Geratan could do that. Something was happening here and he needed to know what it was. Ambrose gestured to Anlax to summon the Demon Troop.

  Fine. I’ll take you to the surface. But if this is a lie . . .

  It’s not a lie. It’s the most frightening truth you’ll ever know.

  EDYON

  THE PITORIAN SEA

  EDYON STOOD on the deck of the Pilar, squinting at the distant coastline of Calidor. Distant, but not distant enough. The Pilar was a small ship with great speed; however, that speed was dependent on wind. The wind had been light and steady at first, carrying them swiftly away until Calidor was a faint smudge on the horizon behind them. But as evening came, the breeze died completely and they’d sat, drifting in the darkness and the current, and at dawn they were horrified to see Calidor clearly in sight. And, worse, the current was carrying them slowly but surely back to land and to the dreaded boy army.

  Edyon looked upward. The Pilar’s huge white sail was hanging like a saggy, heavy curtain—and also like a huge flag that could be seen from a great distance. They were sitting ducks, except that ducks had the option to fly, or even paddle.

  “Can’t we row?” Edyon asked.

  “Apparently not in this type of boat,” Byron replied. “We just have to wait for the wind.”

  “I feel like we’re waiting for the Brigantines to spot us.”

  “Well, I suppose they won’t have any wind either.”

  “Perhaps not, but they may have oars.” Edyon looked back to Calidor. “I can see the castle,” he said, noticing the smoke rising from the city.

  Edyon turned to look the other way, toward Pitoria, but of course he couldn’t see it. It was three days away with a good wind.

  The sea was flat—so calm that the surface was glassy smooth. The Pilar sat in the water, the sun shone brightly on the blue sea; a flying fish whizzed up and away as if to show off its speed and freedom. But, looking down into the water, Edyon saw a large disk of creamy white substance floating past, then he spotted another and another, until it seemed like the sea was white beneath them.

  “Jellyfish,” Byron said.

  Edyon shuddered. “Horrible. And so many of them.”

  “They sting, but they do no real harm.”

  Edyon didn’t want to look at jellyfish or the coastline, so he sank to the deck and closed his eyes. He felt that he was being carried back to face his fate and there was nothing he could do about it. Perhaps too he was being drawn back to March. He closed his eyes, absorbed the heat of the sun, and list
ened to the slow creak of wood. He’d not slept all night and now, despite his nerves, he smiled at the thought of March coming to find him and dozed off.

  He woke what felt like only a few moments later to a cool feel and the sound of a sharp slap. He looked up to see the wind filling the sail.

  At last! Wind! Edyon smiled and stood up.

  But his delight turned to horror as he saw how much closer the Pilar was to shore, and that a rowboat was leaving Calia harbor, heading directly for his ship. One of his guards spotted it too, and shouted, “Boats out the harbor!”

  But were they refugees fleeing the Brigantines, or Brigantines coming after the Pilar?

  Whoever they were, they were distant now that the Pilar was finally moving.

  Edyon looked ahead. “We’ll make it. We’ll get away.” He focused forward, feeling the wind on his face.

  “Boats gaining on us!” came another shout.

  Edyon looked behind. The boats that had come out of the harbor were already much nearer. There were three rowboats, and they were moving so fast that there could be no doubt that they were being powered by boys on smoke.

  “The breeze is still light, but we’re making better speed now. And those rowers can’t keep that pace up,” the captain said.

  “Yes, they can,” Edyon replied. “We need to prepare for them.”

  But the guards were on the alert already; they’d seen boys take Calia Castle.

  The one thing Edyon had grabbed when he’d fled the castle was the bottle of demon smoke, and he held it out to Byron. “I think you should take some.”

  Byron nodded, took the bottle, and inhaled a wisp.

  The distance between the Pilar and the rowboats was closing fast. The ship’s captain shouted instructions: “Prevent them from boarding! Keep them away with fire, harpoons, arrows. As long as they can’t get on board we’ll be able to defend ourselves.”

  Byron added, “If any boys do get on board, they’ll have considerable strength and speed. I’ll go at them. Only if I’m down, or if there’s more than one, must you attack them.” He turned to Edyon, adding, “And you must go below, Your Highness. Wait down there. We’ll call when it’s safe.”

  “I’ll go if they get close. We might get away yet.” Edyon stared up at the sail, willing the wind to pick up some more. The breeze felt stronger on his cheek. He looked to the ship’s wake, trying to assess if they were moving faster, and then to the land, which was definitely more distant.

  We are moving. The Pilar can do it.

  But the Brigantine boys could do it too. They were paddling fast and relentlessly. The rowboats were catching up, and soon the individual boys could be seen—and of course they were just that, boys. They shouted threats while Edyon’s guards shot arrows at them, but they raised their shields and still powered the boats forward. One boy even let an arrow go through his hand. Laughing, he pulled it out and shouted, “Your arrows don’t hurt us!”

  “Get below, Edyon!” Byron shouted.

  But Edyon didn’t want to hide. He had to do something. “I’ll take some smoke, Byron. At least it’ll give me strength to fight them off.”

  Before Byron could object, Edyon inhaled the last of the purple smoke. He felt giddy and clumsy but also much stronger.

  The three rowboats were closing in, but they were so low in the water compared to the Pilar that it seemed it would be impossible for them to board. But Edyon had no sooner thought that than he was proved wrong. One boy was launched into the air by two others. It was the sort of acrobatics seen at a circus, but here the boys went higher and farther. Except this boy had not gone quite far enough and landed with a splash, to much jeering from his fellow boys. Their leader was furiously barking instructions. “I told you to wait for the order. The rest of you get ready to boost your partners! If the prince is on board, I want him alive. Kill the rest.”

  The rowboats drew closer still, and the boy leader shouted: “Now!” Six boys were launched high in the air. But at that moment there was a gust of wind. The captain of the Pilar swung the wheel and the ship turned sharply. The sud-den wind meant that three more boys landed in the sea. But three landed on the deck of the Pilar. The wind was increasing and the captain pulled the wheel back as more boys were launched into the air and the ship turned sharply again. The three boys on deck slid across it and Byron sliced into the first boy, then quickly turned to the next. The sail was full of wind now, and the Pilar was moving away from the Brigantine boats, as there were fewer of the boys left to row.

  We can do it. We can get away.

  But three more boys had landed on deck and one bowled the captain over, taking the wheel with a whoop, sending Edyon off-balance and careering to the side of the ship. The Pilar was heading back to the rowers.

  Byron had three boys against him. As a noble with a lifetime of training, he was better than them with a sword. But he couldn’t hold them all off, and one ran at him and stabbed him in the back. Byron fell to his knees, turning to look at Edyon. Edyon shouted as Byron slumped to the deck. Edyon ran forward, but more boys landed on the Pilar and something hit him hard in the face. He staggered back and fell to the deck, but the smoke healed him almost instantly. So he tried to get up, but there were boys all around him, holding his arms.

  “Tie him down. Tie him down. Don’t kill him. Harold’ll give us a bonus for this one.”

  Edyon struggled to get free, but even with the strength of the smoke he was outmatched, and the boys knocked him back. He screamed in fury. Ropes were brought, his arms were bound to his sides. And all he could do was stand there and let them laugh. Byron’s bloody body was motionless at his feet, his face still toward Edyon, his eyes open and empty. The other guards were all dead, Talin’s body was sprawled out, and there were bodies in the water, floating among the white jellyfish.

  “Does anyone know how to sail this heap of shit or do we paddle back?” the leader shouted.

  It turned out that no one knew, and Edyon was tossed over the side of the ship into a rowboat, and they left the Pilar, Byron, Talin, and the others drifting and lifeless.

  MARCH

  CALIA, CALIDOR

  HAROLD WAS gathering the brigades together in preparation for leaving Calia Castle. March needed smoke if he was to keep up with the boys, but he couldn’t see Rashford and ended up having to ask Sam for some of his.

  “I suppose so, but Harold won’t like that you’ve used yours up. He hates boys wasting it. We don’t have an endless supply, you know.”

  “I didn’t waste it. The bottle top came off in the fight.”

  “I’ll have to tell him what’s happened,” Sam warned as March inhaled.

  March rolled his eyes. “Course you will, Sam. Make sure he knows you graciously shared your smoke too.”

  And Sam did go straight to Harold.

  When March joined them, Harold eyed March, saying, “You lost your smoke, March? That’s uncharacteristically careless of you. You’re one of my golden boys. You should be shining. You should be radiant. You should not be careless.”

  “I’ll be more careful in future, Your Highness. It’s an honor to be one of your elite, and I do my best to be a good example for the other boys. Sam was generous enough to share some of his smoke with me.” March was used to hiding his feelings, but with Harold he needed to grovel enthusiastically. He was determined to arouse no suspicion of being anything other than devoted to his prince. It was a horrible game, but he’d do his best to play it for a bit longer. And then, knowing that Edyon had safely escaped across the sea, he would find a way to kill Harold.

  The boy army left Calia at a run, heading back to the border wall, leaving smoldering wreckage, debris, and bodies in their wake. They ran through the day faster than ever, using the coast road, but not stopping to destroy anything as they passed. And so, at the end of the day, as the sun was setting, they approached the Brigantine border an
d the point in the wall where they’d crossed a few days earlier.

  Harold stopped the boy army on the top of a hill with a view of the wall. Smoke still rose from the ditch on its far side. The wall itself had been damaged and broken through to make a narrow gap. Thornlees must have done that. And then it appeared that he’d advanced, but no more than a few hundred paces, where a battle had clearly been fought. The ground was littered with bodies and weapons. Horses too lay on the ground; one was still whinnying, trying to get up but failing. A dog tentatively stepped over the bodies, sniffing at one, then pulling at it with his teeth.

  Harold shook his head in disgust. “Thornlees couldn’t even do this one simple task. Couldn’t even hold the wall. That man is useless.”

  March had a feeling Thornlees was useless no more, but he said nothing.

  Harold strode down the slope to the battlefield, and the boys slowly followed as their leader walked through the bodies, slashing randomly with his sword, killing the horse and kicking at the dog, which whimpered and skulked off.

  A wounded Brigantine soldier was found and dragged to Harold. Rashford knelt by him and asked, “What happened here, soldier?”

  The soldier replied, “We lost.”

  Harold’s anger instantly left him and he laughed. “Well, I can’t find fault with this man’s analysis.” He bent over the soldier. “Can you tell me why you lost?”

  “There were too many of them.”

  “Too many for old fools like Thornlees.”

  “They came from the higher ground as soon as we’d come through the gap in the wall. The Calidorians outnum-bered us three to one and forced us back, but the gap was too narrow to retreat quickly. Their bowmen took many. Lord Thornlees was shot in the neck early on.”

  “Thornlees is dead?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “He deserved to die for this failure. He was supposed to hold the wall, not advance.”