The City of Stars (Chronicles of the Magi Book 3)

by Dave Morris

  ‘Show some respect,’ said Altor sternly. ‘He’s an abbot.’

  The abbot looked from one to the other. ‘You... you know this creature? You control it?’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ said Caelestis.

  The jinni stretched out his hand to the balustrade. ‘Ready to go on to Hakbad now?’ he said. ‘Say farewell to your friend the abbot and we’ll be on our way.’

  ‘Are you familiar with the sect of the god Tammuz in Opalar?’ Altor asked the jinni, rather to Caelestis’s annoyance.

  ‘You want to go to Opalar now? Make up your mind.’

  ‘If we were to go to Hakbad via Opalar—‘

  ‘That would be two wishes,’ said the jinni. ‘You’d have none left.’

  ‘No,’ said the abbot. ‘The sapling has to be brought back here, to Saknathur’s fortress. There’s an astral gateway that leads back from here to the monastery, you see.’

  ‘I’ll take you to Opalar and back here,’ offered the jinni, ‘but that’s the best I can do. Technically I shouldn’t even let you go back on the wish to travel to Hakbad, but we’ve hardly started on that one yet.’

  Caelestis turned to the abbot. ‘So, for your convenience, we should end up stranded here,’ he said in an accusatory tone.

  Altor put a hand on his friend’s arm. ‘Peace, Caelestis. It’s the only sure and safe route for getting the sapling back to its rightful home. We’ll find a way to get to Hakbad from here, I’m sure of it.’

  Caelestis flung up his hands. ‘I cannot argue with you! Come along, then, let’s get on with it.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Clapping his hands delightedly, the abbot went to mount the balustrade.

  ‘Better you stay here,’ said Altor. ‘With all due respect, adventuring is no sort of activity for a venerable gentleman like yourself.’

  The abbot was obviously not cut out for heroics, and both knew that taking him along would jeopardise their chance of success. But he was reluctant to stay behind, and it took some argument before they finally managed to persuade him.

  ‘What about the cyclops?’ said Altor as he and Caelestis clambered back onto the jinni’s hand.

  The abbot drew a shortsword from his rucksack and smiled grimly. ‘I know how to deal with ungodly creatures like that, my son. I haven’t always been a doddering old man.’

  Altor nodded. ‘Be careful.’

  ‘And you. God watch over you both.’

  He had to shout the last words as the jinni swept them way from the parapet and began the journey east on long swift strides. Looking back, they saw the abbot haloed by flickering firelight from the hall. Bowed as he was in prayer, it made him look like a saint depicted on a church window.

  They watched until Saknathur’s palace was a sliver of dark against the grey sky, all sign of the abbot and the firelight now lost in the gathering night.

  ‘I’ve just noticed something,’ said Caelestis. ‘We’re flying.’

  It was true. The jinni had risen out of the sea and was climbing steadily into the sky.

  Thunder muttered below the horizon. The wind drove a last gust of cool rain, then they were through the clouds and surrounded by a blaze of silver starlight.

  Caelestis looked down between the crack in the jinni’s fingers. A sea of clouds swept by below. It looked like smoke frozen in time.

  ‘What would they see, those who looked up now?’ he mused aloud.

  The jinni gave a loud peal of laughter. ‘Honest Ta’ashim who glance out into the night may catch a glimpse of us in the sudden flash of a lightning stroke. They will think they see a demon out of their folktales.’ His laughter subsided as he fixed a smouldering gaze on the east, and when he spoke again it was with hatred in his voice: ‘But as for any Tammuz cultists who should chance to look westwards... I encountered their sect in ancient times, and it was one of them who sealed me in the flask. They would see an avenging angel!’

  Roused by the warmth of dawn, Altor and Caelestis took stock of their surroundings and remembered they were in the jinni’s hand. They looked down. Jagged mountain peaks, misted by soft cloud, shimmered in the pink sunrise.

  ‘The Harogarn Mountains,’ said Altor. ‘We’re close to our destination.’

  The jinni noticed they were awake. ‘I have been brooding on the priesthood of Tammuz,’ he said dourly, eyes smouldering at a heart-felt grudge. ‘It seems unjust that the old ways should all have passed while I was trapped—Saknathur dead, the old lands of Kaikuhuru sundered—and yet that pernicious cult endures.’

  ‘You said it was they who imprisoned you?’ asked Altor.

  The jinni made a rumbling sound deep in his chest as he thought back. ‘The priests of Tammuz venerate fire as a vampire sect venerates blood. We jinn were created from fire, and if they capture one of us they try to draw out the fire, reducing him to a lifeless husk. If they cannot do that they quench his fire and force him into servitude. With me they could do neither.’

  ‘I would think you’d welcome the chance to be revenged on them, then,’ said Caelestis, ‘rather than charging us one of our three wishes for this journey.’

  ‘Revenge? Yes!’ declared the jinni. ‘In my breast I feel the old passions of my race. The flames of retribution are stoked. When we confront the Tammuz cult, I will pit my might alongside your own!’

  With an even grimmer cast to his jaw, the jinni began to descend towards the mountaintops. Altor turned to Caelestis with a worried look. ‘So much for the subtle approach,’ he said quietly.

  ‘A diversion could be just what we need,’ countered Caelestis. ‘While you and the jinni keep the cultists’ busy, I’ll sneak in and find the sapling.’ He saw the dubious look on his friend’s face. ‘Trust me, thievery is one thing I know all about.’

  The stronghold of the Tammuz cult had appeared on the horizon. The whole structure looked almost as if it had been chipped from the cliffs where it sat. Dawn light glanced off the minarets and sharp cornices and faceted columns of glassy grey-black stone. The sunrise behind it made it seem as if the walls were afire.

  The central tower rose above an egg-shaped dome encrusted with carnelian and topaz. Among the grey buildings the dome glimmered like a second sun, catching and magnifying the rays of the dawn until they became painful to look upon. Onto the terrace in front swarmed figures in robes of gold and scarlet, and as the stronghold sped closer the babble of excited voices rose in the chill morning air.

  Caelestis pointed to the central tower. ‘Put me down there and then you can launch your attack.’

  The jinni circled the tower, reaching out as he did so that Caelestis could leap across to the balcony of the tower. ‘Good luck,’ called Altor.

  ‘Luck?’ said Caelestis. ‘I make my own.’

  Caelestis was as casual as if he were about to play hopscotch. Bracing himself, he jumped across from the jinni’s fingertip and sailed breathtakingly down towards the balcony. Just an instant before he landed, their circuit of the tower took Altor and the jinni around the side of the dome so that they lost sight of Caelestis.

  The cultists were milling about on the terrace below. As the jinni descended, the adepts of the sect came pouring out from the dome. They were resplendent in gold breastplates and high copper crowns and in their midst stood a figure Altor took to be the high priest. With curt gestures he marshalled his adepts into position around him.

  The jinni swept lower. Altor could see the look on the high priest’s face now.

  He was smiling.

  The adepts began to chant: a single high, clear note. Magical force fairly crackled in the air. The high priest raised aloft his wand—a fabulous thing of gold and shimmering jewels, it caught a shaft of sunlight...

  And threw it at them.

  Altor just had time to close his eyes, then it was as if his eyelids had become transparent and he was staring into the heart of the sun. Blistering heat surrounded them, and a flare of light like the birth of the world.

  Gasping in pain, the jinni closed his hand
. Altor had to strain his muscles to keep from being crushed, but in fact the jinni’s reflex had saved him from being burned to death. For a moment he passed out, then as awareness returned he realized they were falling -

  ‘Jinni!’

  The jinni gave a groan. ‘I’m not finished yet.’

  Pulling out of the dive, he planted his massive feet on the crags of rock below the stronghold and stooped, staring fiercely down at the terrace like a man peering into an anthill.

  It was a ploy calculated to overawe the adepts. It worked; several of them quailed, faltering in their chant. The high priest snapped a rebuke as he levelled his wand for another blast.

  It was a long jump down to the terrace but Altor did it without thinking. Anything was better than even a glancing hit from the wand’s fireburst. As he landed the silver sword was already in his hand. Raising it high, he rushed towards the circle of adepts. Now he could see that a network of flickering energy flowed between the adepts and their high priest. And there was something else: as the nearest adept flinched away from Altor’s charge, the nimbus of light dimmed slightly.

  Altor had a hunch that breaking the chant was the key to victory. But before he could reach the circle of adepts, armoured guards wielding dumbbell-shaped bronze maces ran forward from the dome to cut him off. Altor had never faced as many foes. Desperately he swung his sword as, above his head, the jinni and the high priest traded bolts of coruscating flame.

  ‘Hurry it up, Cael,’ muttered Altor to himself. ‘We can’t hold this lot off for long.’

  Inside the tower, Caelestis had not been idling. He reached the bottom of the staircase taking the steps half a dozen at a time. He dived through a high archway and found himself inside the dome. In the centre was a low altar stone of red granite on which rested a large crystalline egg. Sunlight filtered in through the topaz inlays of the dome, forming a rich pink glow in which the egg seemed to pulse with inner life.

  Caelestis stepped forward, hesitated, picked it up. The hard crystal surface tingled under his touch.

  A noise like an earthquake resounded dully through the dome. It was the jinni’s roar of pain and fury. Reminded of the need for haste, Caelestis looked around and saw a spiral stairway leading to the lower floor of the dome. With the egg tucked under one arm, he hurried down.

  Below was a pillared shrine festooned with copper decorations, but Caelestis took in all the details at a glance. Outside he could see the terrace where the high priests and his adepts were locked in battle against the jinni. Spells of fire and black smoke thickened the air. The sustained high-pitched note of the adepts’ chant throbbed like the singing of distant stars.

  The high priest gestured, causing a pall of grey mist to close around the jinni’s throat. The jinni staggered and seemed about to fall, but then he used his own magic to summon a thunderous gale that broke the mist apart.

  The clash of weapons drew Caelestis’s attention to a corner of the terrace where Altor was struggling with a group of warrior priests. One swung his mace, Altor ducked, and the blow struck chips out of the balustrade behind him.

  Caelestis remembered what he had come for. The sapling. He scanned the room, but it was nowhere in sight.

  There was a fiery hiss and blinding golden light flooded in from outside. Caelestis squinted towards the battle, where he saw the high priest stabbing a bolt of white-hot energy into the jinni’s flesh. The jinni gave a great howl of agony as he writhed, caught by the devastating power of the wand. He began to shrivel under the onslaught.

  Then Caelestis noticed the egg. It was pulsing even more violently now. The vibration that emanated from it was matched by the eerie chanting of the adepts, and it gave an unmistakable flicker of light every time the high priest called on the power of his wand.

  Caelestis looked into the crystalline depths. Something moved sinuously there, like a golden serpent waiting to hatch.

  ‘Oh blow it,’ said Caelestis. ‘There’s nothing else I can try.’ And he flung the egg down onto the hard marble floor.

  On the terrace outside, Altor heard a roar of flame and looked past the guard he was fighting to see long tongues of fire shoot out from the dome. One engulfed a group of adepts, who fell screaming with their robes ablaze. Another scattered the guards. Altor took advantage of the distraction to smash his opponent’s clumsy weapon aside and punch him to the ground with the hilt of his sword.

  The glow faded from the high priest’s wand and he stared at it in confusion and fear. The jinni, reeling from the punishing attack that had almost slain him, saw his chance. He threw up his hands and brought them together with titanic force. A thunderflash went sizzling down towards the high priest, who tried in vain to deflect it with his wand. The next moment he was blotted out by a fireball. The accompanying rush of wind knocked Altor off his feet. Lying prone, he felt his eyebrows singe from the furnace-like wave of heat.

  It passed. There was silence. Altor looked up and grimaced in horror. All that remained of the high priest was a blackened skeleton clutching a golden wand. Before his eyes the skeleton took one step, swayed, and fell apart like a bundle of twigs.

  He looked around. Some of the adepts were still on their feet, but the fight had gone out of them. They watched wide-eyed as the jinni scooped up the guards Altor had been fighting and flung them mercilessly into the chasm. Their screams echoed off the mountains, fading into stillness.

  Altor felt dazed. ‘What happened?’ he said. ‘I thought we were done for.’

  The jinni nodded. ‘The high priest’s power was greater than mine. He would have won, but something stripped away that power.’

  Altor looked towards the dome. ‘Caelestis...’

  He gradually became aware of a pit of dread in his heart. He headed towards the dome, breaking into a run as he spotted a figure lying in the middle of a soot-blackened patch of marble floor where shards of a broken crystal egg sparkled dimly.

  Altor skidded to a halt when he was still twenty feet from the fallen figure. That was close enough to see that nothing could be done for him. He had taken the brunt of the fireball that was released when the egg shattered.

  It was only by the ring on the corpse’s finger that Altor could tell it was Caelestis.

  Twelve:

  The City of Stars

  ‘This is what you wanted. The sapling from the Tree of Life.’

  Altor turned. He had been staring blindly down into the mountain passes, lost in his brooding thoughts. He looked with dull eyes at the surviving cultists who had gathered nervously on the terrace.

  The jinni stood astride two mountains, arms folded across his massive chest. ‘Don’t trust them. It could be a fake.’

  The foremost of the cultists, face raw from burns sustained in the battle, held up the sapling. A halo of light hung around the grey branches—perhaps just the glow of the dawn, perhaps something more.

  ‘It’s no fake,’ said Altor bleakly. He reached out and took the sapling. Success had never been so bitter.

  Fearing the anger they sensed simmering inside him, the Tammuz cultists slunk away. Altor gazed for a long time at the sapling in his hand without speaking a word. At last he heaved a sigh. ‘We should be getting back to the abbot, I suppose.’

  ‘Be of good cheer,’ said the jinni. ‘To win such a victory with only one casualty is lucky indeed.’

  ‘I cannot agree,’ said Altor, ‘since it was my best friend who died. And for what? A shrub with but a single leaf.’

  ‘Do you imagine that great magic must always come in the shape of a sword, or wand, or ring of precious metal?’ The jinni gave a snort of contempt. ‘Man, what you hold in your hand is the root of the life that is to come. As lost Eden was a place of verdure and plenty, so that sapling will grow to nourish the world of the next millennium.’

  Altor shrugged. He was about to climb back onto the jinni’s hand when a thought struck him like a hammer-blow between the eyes. He stood blinking, then looked slowly from the sapling to the wrapped bod
y of his friend that lay in the jinni’s palm.

  ‘How does it work?’ he said.

  The jinni was at first puzzled, then a deep frown creased his brow as it dawned on him what Altor was thinking of. ‘You cannot use it in that way,’ he warned. ‘Its magic is intended for a higher purpose.’

  Altor jumped up onto the hand and with trembling fingers unwrapped the body. The dead black, featureless face that was revealed was unrecognisable as Caelestis, so full of life and charm.

  ‘Did you hear?’ said the jinni more urgently. ‘It is not meant—‘

  Altor lifted the sapling. Its single leaf shone as green as all the fields of Ellesland.

  Thunder muttered in the distance beyond the mountains. If it was a warning, Altor ignored it. Before the jinni could speak again, he had torn off the leaf and placed it in the corpse’s mouth.

  A lightning flash sizzled across an otherwise clear sky. Altor fell back stunned, feeling that it had barely missed him.

  A heady smell rose around him. Ozone and salt spray, rich loam and ripe corn. The air sparked and tingled.

  The jinni gave a gasp and lifted his hand to peer in amazement. Where he lay sprawled against the jinni’s thumb, Altor looked across at Caelestis’s body. It was wreathed in silver mist that steamed rapidly away like dew in the sunrise.

  He heard a groan and reached for the shroud just as Caelestis sat upright. He was completely unmarked, his flesh as smooth and pink as if he had just got out of a bath.

  ‘What happened to my clothes?’ was the first thing he said.

  They arrived back at Saknathur’s tower still arguing.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ said Caelestis, shaking his head. ‘I obviously wasn’t that badly hurt, that’s all.’

  ‘Hurt?’ cried Altor, eyes popping in exasperation. ‘You were dead, Cael!’

  ‘Burned to the proverbial crisp,’ put in the jinni, nodding.