The Hunting of the Princes

by Peter F. Hamilton

  ‘Urrgh,’ Jemima said, her nose wrinkling up in dismay at the sickly growths that had insinuated themselves everywhere. ‘I’d forgotten how much I hate that stuff.’

  Taggie glanced up at the sky, which was a uniform grey cloud. She couldn’t even guess where the sun was. ‘I’m so sorry, Felix.’

  ‘You didn’t do this, Majesty,’ he said. ‘And if we succeed, all this will be banished.’

  Jemima walked over to the house, and put her gloved hand on the frozen climbing rose that covered the front wall. It took a long while, but a single stem stirred, pushing a bud through its coating of frost and slushy fungus. A topaz rose bloomed in front of her determined face. ‘There’s life here, Felix,’ she said. ‘The Fourth Realm isn’t dead. Not yet. It sleeps under this terrible blanket, but all is not lost.’

  All of them stood there, staring at the rose. They gradually realized it was the only speck of colour in the whole world.

  A clap of thunder rolled across the frozen landscape. Taggie couldn’t see any lightning flashes. Then a wind rose from nowhere to brush against her face.

  ‘We should go,’ she said.

  THE DREAMER AWAKES

  The dream had lasted as long as the sylphwitch’s cold, cold sleep. She dreamed of times long past, when the Realm was warm and bright, when gold sunlight poured out of a sapphire-blue sky all day long. Outside the dream her world had fallen to bitter cold white, a white that caged her trees as fast as any jail.

  Then, long years after she’d given up any hope of throwing off the blanket of ice, Jatheldorn the sylphwitch felt a tiny surge of life out there among the frozen branches of her precious trees. A tiny pulse of warmth and life that caused a flower to bloom.

  In the midst of a cocoon-like bed that looked like a mesh of a million silky root strands, Jatheldorn opened her eyes. She took her first breath in over two years, and smiled. A fair magic had returned to the Fourth Realm. A tiny glimmer, alight like a candle flame in the midst of her forest, but burning with so much warmth. Jatheldorn launched herself eagerly out into her slumbering trees.

  There was a track through the woodland behind the house. They trooped along it, boots squelching on the tapering grey strands of frost fungus that wove a loose carpet over the frosted grass.

  ‘How far to town?’ Sophie asked. They’d been walking for ten minutes, and were still climbing up the slope.

  ‘Aurestel is supposed to be a hour’s ride from the house,’ Felix said.

  As one, they looked at the track ahead of them. They couldn’t even see the crest of the hill. Up ahead, the trees were taller, their branches starting to merge together to form a grey tunnel through which tendrils of mist hung motionless in the air.

  A white fox slipped across the track. It had a white vole in its mouth, and gave them a quick look before vanishing into the ice-rusted bracken.

  ‘I could fly up and take a look,’ Sophie said.

  ‘No,’ Taggie said.

  ‘It would only take a minute.’

  ‘There’s nothing else in the air,’ Taggie said. ‘No birds, no insects. You’d be the only thing moving.’

  ‘Except for the rathwai,’ Felix said. ‘The air hounds of the Dark Lords rule the air here.’

  ‘I’ll stay with you,’ Sophie said in a small voice.

  It wasn’t long until the slope flattened out. The big trees on either side were smothered in tangled ropes of frost fungus. There was no sound as they trudged on, apart for a few bursts of thunder from the unseen sky above.

  Flakes of ice began to sprinkle the ground around them, as if it was snowing. But when Taggie glanced up, the grey sky was threaded with a few strands of darker cloud, nothing that looked like snowclouds. Then she saw speckles of green on the branches curving over the path.

  ‘Jem,’ she said cautiously.

  ‘I know,’ Jemima whispered in a subdued tone. ‘I can’t help it.’

  ‘What’s happening?’ Lantic asked.

  ‘The trees are greeting the Blossom Princess,’ Felix said.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Jemima said.

  ‘Don’t be,’ Felix said. ‘Please. This is proof that all the ruin the Dark Lords and Ladies have brought here cannot defeat the Fourth Realm. It is wonderful.’

  Jemima actually blushed despite the cold, he sounded so grateful.

  Taggie was wrong about nothing else moving in the air. They saw a big white eagle alight on a frozen oak further up the track. It made no sound as it studied them.

  ‘A snow eagle,’ Felix said reverently. ‘They were rare even before the Fourth Realm fell. To see one now is indeed a stroke of good fortune.’

  Taggie stared back at the big bird, feeling immensely sad that something so magnificent should be trapped in a world like this, never knowing clear skies or the touch of warm sunlight. But even so it retained a dignity that even the eternal winter couldn’t banish.

  It took off and flew over their heads. She smiled as it went.

  Eventually the trees began to thin out, and the track opened into a broad clearing just as the ground started to dip down. They crept forward to an ancient tree that had fallen, and crouched behind it. Taggie could see across a vast plain below them. Snow-covered ground merged with the uniform grey sky at some unknown distance. The only thing that broke up the bleak winter landscape was Aurestel, which nestled just beyond the foot of the hill.

  Taggie was surprised. After seeing the Weldowen family house she’d been expecting Fourth Realm architecture to be a little more elaborate. But the town was comprised entirely of dark cubes, most of which had tall chimney stacks rising high out of their flat roofs. There weren’t any small houses or shops. It was a city of factory blocks, she thought.

  ‘This Realm used to have homes and halls and taverns and schools,’ Felix said bitterly from behind her. ‘There were squares and parks in every town, our cities had a gentle grandeur. Now look. They have torn down everything we built since the First Times to put up their soulless travesties of buildings.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Jemima said. She gripped his forepaw tight. ‘This must be so hard for you.’

  ‘Don’t concern yourself about me.’

  ‘We do, Felix,’ Taggie said firmly. ‘What they’ve done here is awful. One day, the King in Exile will return and everything you’ve lost will be rebuilt.’

  ‘Aye,’ he said grimly. ‘One day.’

  ‘Is that a railway line?’ Jemima asked.

  Taggie looked harder at what she’d assumed was a road: a perfectly straight black line cutting across the plain. Something was moving on it, a row of carriages with a big engine at the front, puffing out smoke and steam.

  ‘The Fourth Realm never had railways,’ Felix said. ‘This is new.’

  ‘The Karraks must have built it,’ Lantic said.

  ‘In those factories, presumably,’ Taggie mused, eyeing the smoking chimneys with suspicion.

  ‘If they’re factories, where do the people live?’

  ‘There are no other buildings,’ Felix said uneasily.

  ‘But . . .’

  Jemima abruptly stood up and turned round. ‘You can come out now,’ she said in a clear voice. ‘We won’t hurt you.’

  A breeze swept across the clearing. And a figure in a grey cloak was suddenly standing five metres behind them. It was all Taggie could do not to let out a squeak of surprise. The hood made her nervous: she couldn’t see the figure’s face. It could have been a Karrak Lady, except now she looked closer, the cloak was no longer grey; it seemed to shimmer on the verge of all colours.

  ‘A sylphwitch,’ Felix muttered in amazement, and bowed deeply.

  The figure pushed her hood back. An astonishingly pretty young woman with skin as black as midnight smiled back at him. ‘A Weldowen,’ she said, smiling in return. ‘Welcome home.’

  Taggie blinked. The sylphwitch didn’t look young any more; her face was aged with wrinkles and her raven hair had faded to silver. It was as if her face was a blank mask upon which differen
t features were projected at random.

  ‘Who are you?’ Lantic asked.

  ‘My name is Jatheldorn. I am the guardian of these woods, and you woke me.’

  ‘I’m sorry. We didn’t know . . .’

  Jatheldorn laughed a young girl’s spry laugh, but it was an ancient woman who spoke. ‘Not you, foreign princeling.’ She turned to Jemima. ‘I talk to you, Blossom Princess of the First Realm.’

  ‘You know who I am?’ Jemima asked.

  ‘I know what you are.’ Jatheldorn held up the yellow rose. ‘Who else could do such a thing?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Jemima said, with a shrug that wasn’t particularly modest. ‘I just wanted to show my friend his Realm wasn’t completely dead.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry, little one.’ And now Jatheldorn was barely older than Jemima. ‘It is a wonder to behold, when I thought such things were long behind me. Unfortunately –’ her finger pointed upwards – ‘they don’t agree with that sentiment.’

  Sophie’s head snapped up, her gaze darting across the bleak sky. ‘Rathwai,’ she said, and shuddered.

  Taggie was trying hard to see the creatures that so upset her friend. In the distance over the town, a couple of black dots were slowly rising. She squinted. ‘Is that . . . ?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sophie said. ‘And if I can see them, they’ll soon be able to see us.’

  ‘They are hunting you,’ Jatheldorn said. ‘I have a home nearby. You’ll be safe there. Follow me.’

  The door to Jatheldorn’s home was a wide crack in a centuries-old oak that had lost its upper branches in some storm long ago. Once they squeezed their way in, earthen steps took them down to a cosy room ribbed by the oak’s roots. Even without a fire it was warm, as if the air had somehow held on to the last of a distant summer’s heat. Lightstones in the soft crevices produced a green-tinged glow.

  ‘Why are they hunting us?’ Felix asked. ‘How did they know we’re here?’

  Jatheldorn, now a handsome middle-aged woman, held up the rose. ‘I plucked this so the rathwai would not see such a magnificent spark of colour. Without evidence of the Blossom Princess’s touch they might have gone back to their stables. Alas, the Blossom Princess is more powerful than I realized. My trees shake off their sleep to greet her, so heartened are they by her presence.’

  ‘Oh,’ Jem grunted, and studied her boots. But there was a smile playing over her lips.

  ‘I told you not to be sorry,’ Jatheldorn said. ‘You broke their enchantment, Blossom Princess. An act the Dark Lords and Ladies fear more than any war or rebellion. They believed their mastery of this poor Realm to be absolute. You have shown them it is not. Small wonder they hunt you.’

  Taggie groaned in dismay. ‘This was supposed to be a quiet little expedition.’

  ‘Do not worry, Queen of Dreams,’ Jatheldorn said. ‘My forest was in a sleep that grows deeper with every passing day. Even I had thought the trees were lost to life. Now their sap rises to greet you and their spirits stir. I had resigned myself to sleeping away my remaining years. You have brought hope to us. And hope is the most precious gift of all.’

  ‘So what are you?’ Lantic asked.

  ‘The sylphwitches are the guardians of the forests and woodlands of the Fourth Realm,’ Felix said.

  ‘I have that honour,’ Jatheldorn said. ‘And what of you? A Weldowen, the Queen of Dreams no less, a Second Realm prince, and a lady-in-waiting from the skyfolk of Air. Such a strange group of friends. Stranger yet is your arrival here. Why have you come?’

  ‘I need to see someone,’ Taggie said. ‘I’m hoping you can help.’

  ‘If I can, I will. I mourn deeply for the summers denied my poor trees. There is nothing I will not do to see their return.’

  ‘There’s a war coming,’ Taggie explained. ‘A terrible, pointless war that will see thousands dead. We are trying to stop it. But to do that, I must visit a Karrak Lord I’ve heard about who may be able to help. Do you know of Lord Colgath?’

  Jatheldorn diminished to a woman of incredible age, and laughed for a long time. ‘Do you know there is water in the seas and rock in the mountains? Of course I know of Lord Colgath. He is the one who led his filthy brethren to enchant the air and clouds when the Karraks first came here. He is the banisher of seasons, the bringer of the cursed winter. Yes, I know Lord Colgath well.’

  ‘He’s in a tower,’ Jemima said suddenly. ‘A tower overlooking water. I can see him sitting inside a black ball.’ She blinked and gave a cheerful glance round the room. ‘Did that help?’

  ‘The armies of Darkness will surely tremble before you, Blossom Princess,’ Jatheldorn said with a teasing smile. ‘I don’t know where this tower is, but others will. Rest here this night, and I will search out a friend I recall who may be able to help you.’

  CATCHING THE TRAIN

  Taggie woke to find Jatheldorn gone. All they had for breakfast were the jam sandwiches in their plastic lunchboxes, which they tucked into hungrily.

  ‘Do not concern yourself about the sylphwitch,’ Felix told the rest of them. ‘The forest guardians are among the oldest peoples to live in this Realm; legend says they were the first to be brought here by the angels. She would never betray us to the Karrak Lords.’

  Sure enough, Jatheldorn returned just as they were talking about going up the stairs to look round outside. She brought an old man with her, wrapped in a coat that was so tattered it was more like a cloak of rags.

  ‘This is Novarl,’ Jatheldorn said. ‘His ancestor was mayor of Aurestel when it fell to the forces of the Dark Lords and Ladies.’

  The old man blinked as he looked round the room, as if he couldn’t quite see everyone properly. ‘Legends,’ he whispered. ‘Bright strong legends standing before me. Oh, to have lived to this time. I never truly believed, even though the sylphwitch visited me when I was young. They made me confess she was a dream, a nightmare. I never repeated the story. For that I am ashamed.’

  ‘The fault is mine,’ a now-youthful Jatheldorn told him kindly. ‘I wasn’t aware for how long I have slept.’

  ‘We’re not legends,’ Taggie said. ‘We’re just people. Really.’

  Novarl frowned, and walked over to the table in the middle of the room. He reached out to the yellow rose that was sitting in a small glass of water. But his hand drew back fearfully before he touched it. Then tears were running down his cheeks.

  ‘Please,’ Jemima said anxiously. ‘Don’t cry. There’s nothing wrong.’

  ‘I have never seen such a thing before,’ Novarl said. ‘It is beautiful. A living plant that isn’t grey and foul. A miracle from the past.’

  ‘It’s only a flower,’ Jemima said. She picked it up and gave it to him.

  Novarl held it up in front of his incredulous face. ‘Even I had begun to doubt,’ he said, and coughed. ‘People who have magic to match the Karrak wizardry no longer dwell in this poor Realm. But now this: plants that grow and bloom. Leaves budding on the trees again. Real. All of it real, after all. My grandsire told me of those days, as his grandsire had told him. I listened to the ancient tales of the time before the sky turned grey and winter became the one eternal season. But we always knew it was true from the ruins that still lie around the outskirts of New Aurestel. Things were different long ago.’ He looked around at them hopefully. ‘Is that why you are here? Are you to return us to those lost times of warmth and colour and joy?’

  ‘I don’t know the future,’ Taggie said, deeply moved by his reaction to something as simple as a flower. ‘But I hope to change what is happening here and now. It won’t be quick, nor easy. But if it can be done, I will do it. You have my word.’

  Novarl bowed to her. ‘A Queen indeed.’

  ‘But we do need some help.’

  ‘Yes. Jatheldorn explained to me. You seek Lord Colgath?’

  ‘We do.’

  ‘He is imprisoned in Red Loch Castle, beyond the reach of even his own kind.’

  ‘Red Loch Castle?’ Felix exclaimed, his tail fluffing ou
t. ‘Curse their arrogant sacrilege.’

  ‘You know it?’ Taggie asked in surprise.

  ‘Yes indeed, Majesty,’ Felix said. ‘It was built by King Yovonin at the end of the First Times, when wars and conflicts still raged across the Fourth Realm. He decreed an impregnable fortress be built to safeguard his family in case the wars went badly for him. It was never used then, of course, but it became a symbol of his fortitude, and that of his line. King Ornalo, the last king of the Fourth Realm, made his final stand against the Grand Lord’s forces there.’

  ‘Aye,’ Novarl said. ‘Well, now it is the impregnable prison of the Grand Lord.’

  ‘There were too many bold words spoken to describe it,’ Felix said grimly. ‘It was broken before, so it can be broken again.’

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ Taggie said. ‘Novarl, how do we get there?’

  Novarl reluctantly took his gaze away from the yellow rose. ‘By train. The eastern line from Aurestel passes close to Red Loch. You can get off when it stops at Valaran station to take on water and coal. From there it is an hour’s ride on a stout horse.’

  ‘All right. Can you get us to the station?’

  ‘I will try.’

  ‘The Karraks have sent their minions into the forest to hunt for whatever is spoiling their enchantments,’ Jatheldorn said. ‘As they come, they are taking their iron axes to the trees which have dared defy them by opening their buds.’

  ‘No,’ Jemima cried in distress. ‘The trees were just saying hello to me. They can’t chop them down for that, that’s so evil.’

  The sylphwitch shimmered to a twenty-year-old with a fierce expression. ‘Like Novarl they have forgotten why they never ventured into the forest in the time of the cold darkening. I can take you past the intruders, and as we go I will remind them why they should stay away from my trees.’

  Novarl had brought with him a sack full of coats. Everyone in New Aurestel wore one, he explained, they’d be able to pass through the streets without drawing attention to themselves.