A Voyage Through Air

by Peter F. Hamilton

  ‘Really?’ Mr Blake asked in fascination.

  ‘Cool,’ Earl Maril’bo murmured.

  ‘My father gave my brother his gate before he left,’ Lord Colgath said. ‘It did not go with him.’

  ‘There must be others,’ Taggie said.

  ‘Five personal gates were brought with us from our universe,’ Lord Colgath said. ‘All are accounted for. My brother has one. Two have perished. You now have one, Queen of Dreams. And Lord Drakouth has the last, though I believe it is close to extinction.’

  Taggie wanted to stamp her foot in exasperation. ‘So you see, we’re not making much progress. If there’s any way you can help . . .’ she appealed to the elf.

  ‘Of course I’ll help, little Queen. For a start, I’ll be coming with you.’ He winked.

  Just then Dad and Jemima arrived, with Felix behind them. Jemima let out a happy whoop and flung her arms round Earl Maril’bo. ‘You came!’ She sighed happily. ‘How’s your band?’

  ‘All good, little Princess.’

  ‘Are you going to take me surfing?’

  Earl Maril’bo patted his mirror board. ‘Soon. We just need some rainbows, and we can curve the indigo together.’

  ‘When we get back, Jem,’ Taggie said irritably. ‘We have to find Mirlyn’s Gate first.’

  ‘Any progress?’ Dad asked sympathetically.

  ‘Not significantly,’ Mr Blake admitted.

  Sophie gazed round at all the books on the shelves, then the ones sprawled across the reading table. Her long hair floated gently around her with the motion. ‘The answer has to be in here somewhere. This is everything we know of Rothgarnal.’

  Jemima gave the big hexagonal room a puzzled glance. ‘What is this place? I’ve never been in here before.’

  ‘Didn’t you read any of the histories I told you to?’ Dad asked in dismay.

  ‘Daddy! History is so boring.’

  ‘Clever people always learn from history, Blossom Princess,’ Mr Blake said in a slightly hurt tone. ‘It is the reason this tower was built. An old story of love and the hope it brings.’

  ‘Huh?’ Jemima grunted.

  ‘This part you are in now is a memorial,’ Mr Blake said. ‘Queen Layawhan had it built to honour her consort, the Prince Salaro. Sadly, he never returned from Rothgarnal. Yet she never gave up hope he would come back as he promised.’ The librarian lifted his gaze to the vaulting ceiling above them. ‘Above us is the tallest tower, not just in the palace but in the whole of the First Realm. For the rest of her reign Queen Layawhan ordered a fire to be lit at the top every night, so it would provide a light to guide him home to her. For sixty years the flames burned brightly there. Every morning she asked the captain of the palace guard if he had come, and every morning the captain would have to tell her no. She became known as the Mourning Queen, so great was her sorrow.’

  ‘That’s awful,’ Jemima said, looking dismayed.

  Taggie gave the librarian a baffled look. Something about the story was puzzling her. She couldn’t quite figure out what.

  ‘Her daughter, Queen Canarie, never allowed the brazier to be lit after the death of her mother,’ Mr Blake went on. ‘She said she didn’t want her father’s soul to come back to the palace, she wanted the two of them to find each other out among the Heavens as true lovers always do.’

  ‘That’s very romantic,’ Sophie said wistfully.

  Taggie narrowed her eyes as she scanned all the volumes yet again. ‘But why didn’t Queen Layawhan know her prince was dead? Mr Blake, you said this annexe contains a complete record of all nine days of the battle. Didn’t they find his body?’

  ‘Oh, he didn’t die at Rothgarnal,’ Mr Blake said. ‘He was a member of the War Emperor’s Light Guard. He accompanied Mirlyn’s Gate to wherever it was hidden. That’s why he didn’t come back.’

  Very slowly, Taggie turned to stare at the earnest librarian as her skin turned strangely numb. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘He accompanied the War Emperor and the Grand Lord,’ Mr Blake said, smiling nervously under his Queen’s intense stare.

  With her sight still fixed unwavering on the librarian, Taggie said ‘Jemima!’ from the corner of her mouth.

  ‘What?’ Jemima said.

  ‘Prince Salaro is our ancestor,’ Taggie said. ‘He’s family.’

  ‘Yes. So? Oh!’

  ‘Mr Blake,’ Taggie said with her heart in her mouth. ‘Are there any effects of Prince Salaro left today? Something physical, something that Jemima can touch?’

  The librarian was polishing his glasses in rapid movements. ‘I, ah, that is . . .’

  ‘The Royal Archive!’ Dad said firmly. ‘There must be something there. There simply must.’

  THE LETTER

  ‘I don’t get it,’ Lantic said as they all trooped down the spiral stone steps to the cellars below the palace’s privy council hall.

  ‘Jemima is a seer,’ Sophie told him. ‘She’s almost quite good at it. If she ever practised properly she’d be brilliant.’

  ‘I heard that,’ Jemima’s voice floated up the stairs.

  Sophie grinned. ‘I was here when she found the dungeon the Karrak Lords were holding Prince Dino in.’ She managed to avoid a guilty glance at Lord Colgath who was several steps ahead of them.

  ‘Right,’ Lantic said cautiously.

  ‘A family blood bond is the greatest link there is,’ Sophie went on. ‘The War Emperor and Grand Lord cast a wardveil around Mirlyn’s Gate, the best there’s ever been. But if there’s something down here that was precious to Prince Salaro, Jemima might be able to use it to sight where he went.’

  ‘And he was with the Gate,’ Lantic said, nodding as he suddenly understood.

  ‘Exactly!’

  The crypts at the bottom of the stairs were all supported by huge pillars that extended away into the darkness; the chamber they were in was bigger than a football pitch. With her heels echoing off into the emptiness, Taggie walked over to a wall from which protruded a small worn stone carved with the crowned shell emblem. She put her hand on it, and spoke the opening enchantment. The stones in a circular patch of the wall turned to phantoms, and she walked through.

  ‘I didn’t know we had an archive,’ Jemima muttered as they all followed Taggie in.

  Dad sighed.

  The vault containing the Royal Archive was comprised of several brick-lined cellars with arching roofs. The air was musty but dry, and a lot cooler than it was upstairs.

  Three of the chambers had heavy shelves that held enormous trunks. Taggie walked straight past them to a smaller room at the back. Her waving hands cast small enchantments into the lightstones on the wall as she went, reviving them. Soon the whole archive was illuminated with mellow blue-white light.

  ‘Here we go,’ she said as they looked round a small library of ledgers. Then she caught the way Dad was looking at her, with that kind of pride only he could conjure up. ‘What?’ she asked.

  He smiled. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘This is the section,’ an excited Mr Blake said, peering up at a tall bookcase. ‘All of Queen Layawhan’s private papers and letters.’

  The ledgers and parchment rolls of Queen Layawhan’s reign were taken down carefully. Mr Blake spread them out over the vault’s three tables, and they all got to work.

  Taggie scanned through the ledgers, checking the contents. The ink was old and fading, the writing thin and elaborate, which made it hard to read. She forced herself to go slowly, fearful she might miss something.

  ‘I believe this is what we’re looking for,’ Lord Colgath’s deep voice boomed over an hour after they’d started. He pushed a thick leather satchel across the table to Taggie. It contained letters, thin pages of parchment, each with the shell and feather seal of the prince regent.

  With everyone watching her, she started to leaf through them. The breath caught in her throat as she read the dates of the final batch. ‘The time of Rothgarnal.’

  ‘Where’s the last one?’ Sophie asked. />
  ‘Here.’ Taggie pulled the letter out of the satchel, and carefully unfolded it. The parchment was in poor shape, with ragged edges and peculiar stains. There was a cut through every page, which looked suspiciously as if a dagger had been stabbed through it.

  With everyone gathering round, she flattened it out on the table and began to read.

  My Queen, my greatest, my only, love.

  I have survived Rothgarnal. Alas, this is not the triumph I expect you believe it to be. The fighting has raged for nine full days now. So many are dead, my friends, my comrades in arms, those I knew but briefly, those in the Grand Lord’s army, those whose bodies I walked upon across the battlefield, so many more whose blood now stains the soil of this cursed place for all eternity. I know now there is no Hell Realm, for such a place is here and now.

  We fought and fought, all of us, with valour and horror, with magic and with brute steel. Now, at the end of it all I love my enemy. Forgive what may sound as treason to your sweet ears, my love, but their suffering is equal to ours. In that unity, the War Emperor and the Grand Lord have called truce, and continue to parley while I write.

  Neither side is the victor. Too many are dead for that to be called. Instead, we will begin to respect each other. This is the hope of both our leaders, and if needs be I will fight yet again to uphold that hope, for some good must surely come from this immense suffering and sacrifice. Somewhere at some time the folk of the Realms and the people of the Dark Universe must sit at the same table and learn how to live in harmony.

  But this future is naught but a dream unless we can end the threat of the Dark Universe. On the other side, another battle is also being waged to control Mirlyn’s accursed Gate. Nearly all of Rothgarnal’s Great Gateways have been destroyed by the dark wizardry of the Karrak Lords, yet by bitter fate Mirlyn’s Gate remains unscathed by the strongest magic the War Emperor and Grand Lord can summon. Instead they have bound it shut. But this cannot be enough. All are agreed, this most evil of all temptations must be taken away and hidden beyond any chance of discovery.

  It falls upon me now to tell you with a heavy heart that I will not be returning straight away. I am a loyal officer of the Light Guards, as such it is my duty to accompany my War Emperor on this, his final task. We are due to leave Rothgarnal with the Grand Lord before daybreak, and take Mirlyn’s Gate I know not where. Forgive me, my love, I do this in the belief that all Peoples will live longer and happier lives because of it.

  I pledge to you that I will come back to you and our dearest Canarie as soon as I can. Keep a light burning for me, my love, so I might find you no matter what darkness falls across me on this last endeavour.

  You are my love forever.

  Your Prince Salaro

  I entrust this letter to my squire Dyllian, who is a lad of sound heart, and will see you receive it.

  Taggie stared at the parchment after she’d finished reading, even though she couldn’t quite focus on the writing any more. She sniffed loudly, hoping she didn’t cry because her tears would fall on the beautiful letter and spoil the ancient parchment.

  ‘Prince Salaro really loved her,’ Sophie managed to croak.

  ‘Yes,’ Taggie agreed. She slid the parchment across to Jemima, who was as silent and subdued as everyone else. ‘Sight whatever you can,’ Taggie said kindly.

  With everyone watching her, Jemima took her runes out of their little leather pouch. Closing her eyes, she shook them in one hand while her other hand stroked the side of the letter. For once she didn’t question her talent and how erratic it could be. She wasn’t going to let her ancestors down, not today. She would read the runes and be granted the sight of Prince Salaro’s resting place.

  Jemima opened her fingers to drop the runes on to the venerable square of parchment.

  There were several gasps around the table.

  Jemima stared at the little black stones. They floated a few centimetres above the parchment, tumbling slowly so no one set of runes remained fixed.

  ‘Air,’ Jemima said in astonishment. ‘He died in the Realm of Air.’

  PREPARING FOR WAR

  Bright midday sunlight shone down on the city of Shatha’hal. The capital of the Second Realm was made up of seven enormous buildings in the middle of an irrigated parkland that shimmered a lush emerald in the heat, a soft jewel set amid the barren sand of the vast desert surrounding it.

  The War Emperor walked through the garden that formed the roof of the gigantic upside-down pyramid at the very centre of the city. Around him were the other royals who attended the Gathering of Kings, who in turn had their entourage of councillors and courtiers trailing behind them like ducklings behind their mother. Between them the royals represented all of the Realms, except for the poor unfortunate Fourth Realm, which was under the rule of the Karrak Lords and Ladies. Out of courtesy, the King in Exile from that realm had been given a seat at the table. Like everyone else (apart from the Queen of Dreams) he had agreed to the anointment of Manokol as War Emperor, a position that had not been filled for over a thousand years. Armies had been summoned from every Realm under his command. Once they were ready, the War Emperor himself would lead them in an invasion of the Fourth Realm, and destroy the Karrak invaders for good.

  When he reached the edge of the roof, the newly appointed War Emperor stared down at the rows and rows of tents which had sprung up across the parkland far below. Already there were over fifteen thousand soldiers encamped, with more columns arriving as he watched. The river Zhila, which ran through the desert, was thick with long boats full of soldiers and their equipment. Many were having to wait outside the city’s docks while regiments disembarked from boats already berthed.

  Even from his distant vantage point, the War Emperor could see the different types of folk who had answered his call. The giants of the Ninth Realm, the elves from the Sixth, trolls from the Eighth; and humans with their more subtle variations; the four-armed Holvans from the Seventh, and the tall, red-skinned Shadarain of the Fifth Realm. To his delight, the air between Shatha’hal’s mighty buildings was a-glitter from the multiple contrails of skyfolk from the Realm of Air, who had even brought some Olri-gi with them, imposing flying creatures who could easily challenge the rathwai which the Karraks rode through the air. Down on the ground, huge rinosaurs of the giants’ cavalry were snorting impatiently in their hurriedly built pens.

  ‘Where are our regiments?’ the War Emperor asked.

  ‘There, sire,’ replied Welch, the senior general. He pointed at a swathe of tents, each one as big as a house. ‘Another seven regiments will be here before the end of next week.’

  The War Emperor was pleased to see his regiments were pitched next to the smaller, but far more elaborate, bell-tents that had bloomed like colourful mushrooms the previous evening. Each one flew the heraldic pennant of a Third Realm sorceress house. He was relying on the power of the sorceresses to counter the wizardries of the Karraks when they invaded.

  ‘Side by side,’ Queen Judith of the Third Realm murmured to him.

  The War Emperor smiled. ‘Indeed, dear Queen.’

  ‘At least some of us still honour our ancient alliances,’ Queen Judith said, with a sideways glance directed at the woman standing beside her. It was obvious they were sisters, both of them tall with narrow faces and brown eyes. Both of them wearing the long bejewelled cloaks with high collars favoured by Third Realm sorceresses.

  Nicola, the elder of the two sisters and Taggie’s mother, showed no awareness of the barb.

  The War Emperor was uncomfortable having her as part of the royal retinue, but there was little he could do about it. Since the Queen of Dreams had left the Second Realm, her mother was the official representative of the First Realm’s royal family. ‘Is there any word of your daughter?’ he asked.

  ‘Should there be?’ Nicola asked lightly.

  ‘She was last seen in the presence of a Karrak Lord,’ Queen Judith said. ‘Apparently they were very friendly. Some kind of alliance had been
formed.’

  The War Emperor turned to General Welch. ‘What? Is this true? Why was I not told?’

  General Welch gave an awkward shrug. ‘We were waiting for confirmation, sire. Certain events that occurred in London yesterday were confusing. Captain Feandez hasn’t reported back yet.’

  The War Emperor gave the general an annoyed glance. ‘Have Captain Feandez report to me as soon as he arrives.’

  ‘Yes, sire.’

  ‘And if he does not vouch for the Queen of Dreams?’ Queen Judith asked. ‘Rumour of how she defies your authority is already gossiped in the markets and halls of many realms. That cannot be allowed, nothing must weaken your glorious war effort. You must be firm with the wayward child.’

  ‘As I recall, even the Third Realm follows the principle of innocent until proven guilty,’ Nicola retorted.

  The haughty smile on Queen Judith’s face could have frozen a summer’s day. ‘She is allied with a Karrak Lord.’

  Nicola faced her sister with an equally frigid expression. ‘Yes. Why is she allied?’

  A flicker of uncertainty crossed Queen Judith’s face. ‘Who knows?’

  ‘Certainly not you, yet you throw these allegations around without a shred of evidence. Are you that insecure?’

  The courtiers and advisers of the Gathering were slowly inching back from the two sorceresses. The air between the sisters seemed to haze with a faint blue light which drained the sun’s warmth from the pyramid’s roof.

  ‘It is not my position which is fragile, sister,’ Queen Judith replied.

  ‘Then as true royalty, I’m sure you will ignore simple tavern gossip and wait for the facts to be presented,’ Nicola snapped.

  ‘Very well,’ the War Emperor said, uncomfortable at the antagonism of the sisters. ‘I will summon both of you as soon as Captain Feandez arrives. We will hear the truth together.’