Shimmering on the horizon were the walls of a great city – not brass but stone.
‘Can this be the brass city?’ said Karim. ‘I see no brass.’
They walked the vast stone walls and there was no entrance in sight. All was quiet. In the high sky, brightly plumed birds wheeled overhead.
‘We must climb the walls,’ ventured the men, and Karim agreed with them. Ash El Dir urged caution, but one of the men fashioned a ladder, and scrambled up to the top of the wall.
‘What can you see?’ they asked him.
‘I can see Paradise,’ he cried with delight. ‘I can see the beauty and I cannot wait.’ So saying he dived from the wall into the city. They heard his joyful cry cut short.
‘This is not right,’ declared Ash El Dir, but the other man was already clambering the ladder and would not listen to caution. He too declared that he saw Paradise. He started to describe the quenching of all thirsts, but he too dived joyously from the walls into the space beyond, and was heard from no more.
Prince Karim also made to scale the ladder, but Ash El Dir tethered him firmly to it. ‘Just in case there is no paradise beyond.’
Prince Karim reached the mighty battlements, and called down to her in delight. ‘Truly, my love, there is all that man could wish for. A beautiful lake, crystal waters shimmering in the sun.’
‘Where are our fellows? What has happened to them?’ she asked, but he did not listen. He had already dived from the walls.
The tether caught him, and Ash held the ladder as his joyous shouts became a scream.
‘Help me, oh, help me,’ cried Prince Karim.
‘What has happened?’ called Ash, climbing the ladder to hold the tether.
‘Do not come onto the walls – for you will see a lake so pure it has to be dived into. Fool that I am, I wished to swim in it, but no sooner had I jumped than the lake vanished and I found myself falling onto stone. Help me, I beg of you.’
At length, and with difficulty, Ash El Dir fetched Karim back up, until he lay on the parapet once more. ‘I can see the lake again. Perhaps it is no mirage,’ he called, and made to dive again, but Ash jerked him back onto the ladder.
They climbed down and Prince Karim looked up at the great stone walls again. ‘Perhaps, the warnings are true – only the dead can enter the City of Brass.’
‘Or maybe it is where the amulet is to earn its value,’ said Ash El Dir. She produced the caskets, unlocking them. ‘The amethyst belongs to the city. It is said that none can be admitted without it. Perhaps it is the key to it. No wonder the Wizard of Marabia seeks it.’ She opened the casket, full knowing that once she did so, the Wizard would be able to sense the amethyst. ‘We must try.’
They walked around the long walls three times, pressing the amethyst against the walls and hoping. Incredibly, there were no gaps, no breaks, no joins between the stones.
‘Perhaps this is not even the City of Brass,’ scoffed Karim, but Ash walked on.
‘The lesson is time,’ she said. ‘There is a gap, but it has taken us time to see it – there.’
And so saying, she pushed the amethyst into the tiniest of gaps that had never been there before.
‘Open Sesame,’ announced Ash. Karim had never heard this before and questioned her of it. ‘Oh, it is the password for the secret cave of the Guild of Thieves.’
‘Not very memorable.’
‘Really?’
As they spoke, the gateway to the great stone wall appeared.
‘To see is to obey,’ said Ash El Dir, and they went inside…
And here the Lady Sherade would have paused her story, but the mighty King her husband pressed her to continue.
Inside the vast stone walls was a sumptuous plain containing the real City of Brass – lofty palaces, splendid domes, splendid mansions – all of brass, and all of a unique design, the like of which no living man had seen. Every feature glowed marvellous ruddy hues under the favour of the sun. Ash El Dir was moved to tears and Karim was silent with awe.
‘What wealth can the Caliph of this city have?’ he marvelled.
Ash shook her head. ‘Listen to the city – it is silent,’ she said. ‘The City of Brass sleeps.’
They walked on through, past the gates and into the empty streets. Their echoing footsteps were the only noise apart from the birds wheeling overhead. They came to a market, where the canopied stalls fluttered in the breeze. The stallholders were still there, frozen as if selling their wares, but the comfort of death had long ago embraced them.
‘What happened here?’ asked Ash, fingering the wonderful cloth. They walked on, into a vast square in which sheets of copper had been beaten till veined like marble. Crowded into a corner of the square, as though frozen in the act of trying to run away, were more bodies, their skin blackened and shrunk around the bones. They made the same finding in the houses, the libraries and the schools. Everyone in this fine city had perished.
They entered the grandest palace of all, making their way past scores of fallen soldiers. The walls of the palace were decorated even more richly, and Karim marvelled at the jewel-danced carvings, depicting a fearsome figure – the Goddess None Dare Fight.
‘Zekahmet – I have never heard of her,’ said Karim.
‘Maybe her religion is so old it has been forgotten,’ Ash suggested, for she was as wise as she was clever.
They pressed on into the heart of the palace, and found there the figure of a Queen. Even in death, the figure was beautiful, her elegant hands still gripping the arms of her throne.
‘Even though she has burned, her eyes are still like jewels.’ Karim bowed to the still regal figure.
‘It is as though a fire has swept through the City of Brass, putting to death all the citizens, but left the buildings untouched. What flame can do that?’
‘It is the work of Djinns,’ pronounced the Prince, for he knew much of magic. ‘I wager this is the Wizard of Marabia.’
‘If that was so, why sought he the key?’ asked Ash.
‘I sought the key because I wished to come home,’ said the Wizard. For he now stood behind them.
And so paused the Lady Sherade.
THE CONFRONTATION IN THE CITY OF BRASS
‘The Wizard of Marabia had found Prince Karim and the clever servant Ash El Dir in the City of Brass, where the buildings and the dead waited silently,’ continued the Lady Sherade.
The Wizard of Marabia confronted them, his mighty Djinns floated behind him. He smiled a smile that was clever and sad. ‘If you would not give me the key, I decided to wait until you used it. I have got what I came for – I have come home.’
Karim then rounded on him, accusing him of all the felonies under the night. ‘These bodies? Did you kill them all?’
‘Ah, alas, no,’ the Wizard sighed, and one of his metal knights held him up. ‘These poor figures, these were my dearest friends. And that figure on the throne – she is my one true Queen. The Goddess Zekahmet. Yea, I claim title as the last and truest ruler of the Nile, but I do so on her behalf. For she is the Goddess of Fire and Vengeance.’
‘What happened here?’ asked Ash El Dir.
‘Fire and Vengeance…’ began the Wizard. ‘It is a sad story…’
THE WIZARD OF MARABIA’S STORY
Even longer ago than in ancient time, began the Wizard, man walked the Earth as little more than the beasts. Then, just as we began to look up at the heavens, travellers came down from them. They were not men such as us. They came from other spheres and realms, places of magic and metal. We called them gods, and they did not deny it – they had knowledge and power we could hardly dream of. As they walked the Earth, they raised great buildings, they inspired artists with their visions, and they changed everyone they met.
Some ran screaming in fear from them, some ran adoringly towards them. Tribes raised armies against them which they smote unto dust. Great kings sought to marry their daughters to them. Thinkers ran to them demanding answers to great questions, and medics
begged them for cures. We were swift to embrace these gods because, like wise parents, they told us what to do. We were slow to realise that the gods childishly fought among themselves. We thought them perfect, each and every one, but they differed and they argued. Some did not talk to each other, some declared that the world would be destroyed unless another of their kind was killed, and so, as rich as life became, it also waxed more complicated.
Mightier battles were fought with greater weapons than had ever been wielded before. Soldiers died in the thousand thousand, and kingdoms burned. One god rose up against his brothers and nearly destroyed them all. After he was vanquished, it was announced that the Great Gods of Egypt would leave. Their time was over.
But what of us? Those of us who had slaved in the houses of the gods as their faithful priests and servants? What was to become of us? We could not return to our people – if our gods were gone, they would surely kill us. One god remained – Zekahmet, in her City of Brass. A sanctuary that would shield us all from the world. A place that would remain the same. She vowed that she would protect us from her brethren. For she was as vengeful as she was graceful. She treated us like her pets – those birds that turn above us in the sky are no mere carrion, they are the remains of the noble-plumed birds that paraded in her courtyards. Zekahmet loved beauty and peace. She built a heaven on this Earth, a garden protected from outside where she could be worshipped and we could enjoy her protection for ever.
Her brethren found out about her desertion, and there was wrath in the skies. They quested over every land, looking for the City of Brass, but we evaded them for a long time. Then they found its region, and the last battle began. They could never find the precise location, they could never get inside the City itself, although they enlisted the very worst of men to help – the Ancient Guild of Thieves worked day and night to find every scrap about the City. But the whereabouts of the City, even the sight of its great impregnable walls, remained closed to them.
And then, one day, I betrayed my great Queen. I did not mean to. My metal Djinns and I had been out on patrol when thieves ambushed me. I escaped, but I did not realise that I brought an Ifrit back with me – a treacherous creature which reported the location and the way into the City of Brass.
No sooner had I made my way into the throne room to report victory to my great Queen than the Ifrit appeared from my back and bowed to Zekahmet.
‘Oh great Queen, great Goddess, all is lost to you because you trusted this man. For man is a fool and not worthy of you. It is all over for you now.’
I protested my innocence, but my Queen turned to me and nodded. ‘Go. You are exiled from this city. You have not the honour to die amongst us.’
I fled, fled with my knights, sailing away in my flying iron galleon. I vowed I would fight off the attack from the other gods. We would save the City of Brass. But it was not to be. The weapon they used was so mighty and so quick – little more than a flash and the very air was torn asunder. I heard my Queen’s scream, and I knew the Goddess was no more. That was the last moment of happiness I enjoyed, for the great weapon touched even my galleon, casting it into the ground. My Djinn saved me, but the galleon was lost, I knew not where, its location hidden by our enemies.
I walked the world for ever, carrying my heaviest burden. For Zekahmet would not let me die – you cannot know the torment it is being unable to die. Oh, young girl, you laugh at me now, but the pain knows no boundaries and the weight of the years is terrible indeed to carry.
And that is why I sought out the location of the amethyst key. I had long forgotten it. For hundreds of years I wandered this Earth until the sand became dust. I saw the terrible effects of that weapon become reflected in the many lands. Peoples whose minds were pulled inside out, who could conjure great feats but could not talk, animals grown to great size or able to converse. Although I did not know where my original galleon had fallen to the ground, although my Djinn scoured the realms for signs of its passing, I still hoped to find it. If my amulet had survived, then my chances of regaining the City were there.
I know why you seek this place – the young man seeks wealth and power. The young woman seeks escape. There is no escape from the City of Brass. It always was, in a way, a prison. I have come back here because it is the only place under the skies where I can die. Take what you want from this kingdom – the people who delighted in the City’s joys have passed. Take what you want, I say again, only leave my Queen’s body alone. She gave herself to try and save us all, and she will for ever remain holy.
Now I feel my breathing tighten, and I know that the Sunderer of Companions comes to visit me at last. And so I end my days.
THE END OF THE CITY OF BRASS
With that, the Wizard of Marabia closed his eyes, and his metal knights held him aloft, placing him on a bier which they stood guard around.
Ash El Dir looked around piteously, crying for herself and for the city. ‘There is no escape. This is an empty quest. A failure.’
‘How can you say that?’ Prince Karim upbraided her. ‘There is so much wealth here! So many wonders! We have a greater treasury here than any of your Ancient Guild of Thieves.’ So saying he began to gather in his arms the riches of the City of Brass, plucking precious stones from the walls and stuffing fabrics of spun gold into his sack.
Ash El Dir begged him to cease, but he shook his head. ‘Your friend the Wizard has ordered us to. And I merely obey.’ He pulled at a necklace worn by the Goddess Zekahmet, but Ash stayed him. ‘You cannot, that is forbidden.’
The Prince nodded, and agreed. ‘You are wise. It is forbidden,’ he said, and then he changed his mind. ‘It is so, and yet, it is not a thing that she may enjoy more.’ He tugged the necklace from her throat. For a moment, it seemed as though the Goddess smiled at him, and then her figure crumbled away. And with her fading, the City of her dreams began to shake, its minarets and spires falling apart.
‘She sustained it! Only she,’ cursed Ash El Dir. ‘Had you left her be, this would have been yours to enjoy for ever.’
And Karim burst out wailing, begging her to stop it.
‘But there is nothing I can do, not against the last wishes of a god.’
In despair and panic Karim ran away, fleeing outside, gathering up all the gold and jewels he could as he went.
Ash El Dir stood in the throne room. This was, she thought, as good a place, as noble a dwelling to die as any. Perhaps, in many ways, the best option she would have. She went over to the Wizard of Marabia, and stroked his cheek. Then bowing to the dust of the Queen, she left to continue life.
Stood out on the sands of the great plain, all she could hear behind her was the roar as the mighty City of Brass collapsed. Metal shrieked against metal, and stone split against stone. Palaces, fountains, libraries and treasuries all shimmered and vanished. Ash El Dir stood until all was silence. Behind her were the great walls, with nothing beyond them.
In front of her was nothing. Prince Karim had not waited. Either through fear or hatred, the love of her life had left her. He had taken his vast riches and run.
All that was left for her were the birds wheeling overhead, calling to each other in grief at the end of the City of Brass.
There the Lady Sherade stopped.
‘Is that really how it ends?’ gasped the Mighty King.
The Lady Sherade laughed.
‘But what of Sindbad, left in his box?’
‘So much for him, I told you, and so much for him.’
‘That is not enough!’ protested the King. ‘I wish for his story to have an ending.’
The Lady Sherade considered. ‘Then perhaps he stayed in his box until Ash El Dir returned and released him and the people were full sorry and marvelled at what she said and the Caliph bestowed on everyone his munificence.’
‘That is better.’
‘Or perhaps she forgot all about him and walked on in the world.’
‘That is not.’
The Lady Sherade shrugged. ‘Is that
all you want to know – if maybe there is some of this story which I have left out?’
‘Ash El Dir – the clever serving girl. She did not get her rewards, did she?’
‘No,’ Lady Sherade agreed. ‘She did not become rich, she did not travel to the heavens, and the love of her life, the man who she had hoped to spend her days with in perfect happiness until he was visited by the Destroyer of Delights – he abandoned her and never thought of her again. That is a knowledge that is hard to live with, however long your life is.’
‘Well, yes, poor thing,’ admitted the King. ‘But a serving girl marry a king? That only happens in fairy stories, such as you spin, my Queen. I find it fascinating that you tell me such things, though. I had heard such legends of my grandfather Karim, but I had never dreamt the full story was so exciting – it is, of course, all invention, but how pleasant.’
‘Is that all you think the story is?’ the Lady Sherade teased her new husband.
Laughing, he embraced her. ‘Of course not! It is full of pretty words so very entertaining that they have kept you alive, and I am very glad of that.’ He smiled and she smiled back. He broke away and took another glass of sherbet.
‘Is there no more to my words than that, my lord?’
He considered the cup of sherbet. ‘Your tales are like this drink – a sweet and amusing concoction. Once one has begun, one cannot cease.’ He filled the cup and drank again. ‘You are most gifted.’
‘What did you think of my characters?’
‘Oh most vivid, most vivid. As though you’d met them.’ He nudged his wife in the ribs. ‘Come though, we must have a happier ending to your last tale.’
‘Indeed we must.’ She tipped the lees of the jug into his glass. ‘I shall tell you one thing first. My stories had a motto – a common theme, whether fact or fable, that every man should listen to.’
‘Tell me, what is it?’ said the King, tapping her on the nose.
Doctor Who: The Legends of Ashildr Page 4
