The Demon Horsemen

by Tony Shillitoe

  ‘They’ve given us soup,’ said the woman who was pressing a spoon against Meg’s lips. ‘Eat.’

  Meg knew she should thank her provider, but for the moment she silently savoured the taste and aroma of the vegetable soup as she sipped at the spoon’s contents. ‘There,’ said the woman. ‘You’ll feel better.’

  The woman was familiar. She was pale, gaunt and shaggy-haired, but there were clues in her features and her voice that Meg associated with someone who had come into her circle along the journey to this place but had only played a minor part in greater events. Meg was sitting propped against a tree. People were milling nearby, the buzz of voices gentle, and she thought she could hear the ocean beneath the voices. A gull’s sharp cry confirmed her sense of place. She looked down at herself. She wore a yellow smock, like those worn in the city by the devotees to Jarudha. The woman who held the soup bowl was dressed the same.

  ‘More?’ the woman asked.

  Meg appreciated the wooden spoon returning with warm, chunky soup. She closed her eyes and rolled the vegetable fragments around the inside of her mouth, wondering how long it was since she’d eaten.

  ‘How’s your patient?’ Hearing a man’s voice, she opened her eyes to find a solid individual in a white uniform standing over her, smiling benignly. ‘She looks brighter,’ he said. ‘Perhaps by tomorrow you can return to your home.’ He disappeared from her field of vision and the woman’s face reappeared.

  ‘I know you,’ Meg whispered.

  ‘I wondered if you’d remember,’ the hollow-cheeked woman replied. ‘More?’

  Meg shook her head. I know you, but I can’t remember who you are, she thought. The woman promised to return as she moved away, but left alone Meg felt an overwhelming urge to sleep.

  ‘If she found the canvas bag she’d have been back long before now,’ Chase argued. ‘She’s in trouble.’

  A war horn sounded away to the right.

  ‘Then she’s been caught,’ Wahim suggested. He turned his gaze from Chase to a squad of cavalry galloping across the slope in response to the horn.

  ‘Not by Shadow or the Seers,’ said Hunter brusquely. ‘Our spies have looked for her in their camp. Whatever Shadow and his followers did to so easily escape the Ranu, they didn’t take any prisoners with them to Princestown.’ The Joker’s former bodyguard walked away, returning to his command who were marshalling in the shallow valley.

  ‘He doesn’t like you, does he?’ Swift remarked, looking at Chase.

  ‘He blames me for everything that’s happened,’ said Chase. ‘He also seems to think the Seers never got the bag.’

  ‘Shadow kept it?’ Wahim asked.

  ‘Possibly,’ Chase replied. ‘Hunter said his spies haven’t seen any sign of a canvas bag, and a servant apparently saw Shadow taking a bag into the catacombs beneath the palace.’

  ‘It could have been any bag,’ Swift said. ‘Where’s the servant?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Chase. ‘He didn’t tell me.’

  ‘It’s highly unlikely it was the bag we want,’ said Swift.

  ‘But if Shadow doesn’t appear to have it with him now—’ Wahim began.

  ‘Then it’s still in the palace somewhere,’ said Chase. ‘And I have to get it.’

  ‘With the Ranu all over the city?’ Wahim was surprised by his friend’s determination. ‘You won’t even get into the Northern Quarter.’

  ‘There are ways in they won’t know about.’

  Swift and Wahim waited for further explanation, but Chase just shrugged and glanced across the encampment. All around, men were busy preparing for battle—strapping on armour, cleaning weapons. The confrontations with Shadow’s forces and with the Ranu were looming. The question was, who would bluff first?

  ‘I know a way I can get into the palace,’ he said.

  ‘So we can get the bag?’ Swift said.

  ‘Not we,’ Chase replied. ‘Me. I do this alone.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ she scolded. ‘I’m coming with you.’

  He stared at her, his jaw set. ‘For all we know, we’ve already lost Meg. You should look for her. I’ll get the bag. I should have kept it in the first place.’

  ‘You didn’t know anything about it then,’ she reminded him. ‘Stop blaming yourself for what’s happened. There’s nothing you could’ve done differently.’

  ‘And you’ll need us with you in case anything goes wrong,’ Wahim argued.

  ‘One person won’t be as easy to track as three of us,’ said Chase.

  Movement behind Wahim caught his eye and when he saw Runner staring at him he winked at the lad. Runner grinned in return. Swift also smiled, but the boy glared at her and stalked away. Another war horn sounded, echoed by others more distant.

  ‘There’s action brewing,’ said Wahim. ‘I’m going to my station. Let me know if you plan to go into the city.’

  Peacemakers fired and an explosion at the top of a hill to the north signalled a battle beginning.

  ‘Some of Shadow’s stragglers not wanting to defect,’ said Swift. ‘I’m going to have a look. Coming?’

  Chase shook his head. ‘Hunter wants me to make sure the ammunition supplies get to the soldiers who need them. I’d better see to it.’

  Swift held her half-brother’s gaze. ‘No heroics, Chase. All right? We do something, we do it together. Especially if it concerns Meg.’

  ‘We’ll talk later,’ said Chase, attempting to appease her, but Swift held his gaze a moment more before she followed Wahim.

  Shadow, in the red Kerwyn dragon egg floating high above the battlefield, was furious. Not only had the Ranu driven him from his city, but Inheritor was alive and interfering with events by daring to bring an army against him. He could do nothing about the Ranu just now, but he could crush Inheritor’s pathetic force. His orders to Warlord Fist earlier in the week had been simple: destroy the rebel army and bring him Inheritor’s head.

  His instructions to Word had been just as abrupt when the Seer came as bidden. ‘I want Inheritor’s army obliterated. Show the people the might of Jarudha’s power and who is their only king.’ Word had accepted the direction, although Shadow sensed his reluctance, which left him wondering just how much he could trust the Seers. He had called Fist to him again and issued an additional order: ‘Have the Seers watched constantly. If you suspect treachery, arrest them.’

  The news from Fist was promising. The warlord had reassembled the Kerwyn army, the Seers had assisted in providing more of the star-reachers, and the stage was set to attack the rebels. There were only two airbirds, but he had a dozen dragon eggs to drop thunderclaps from, and everything was in his favour.

  News from his spies in the city was also promising. The Ranu were busy establishing their rule and endeavouring to attract people back to the city. His little brother was being installed as a puppet king, exactly as he’d hoped; it diverted Ranu attention from pursuing him and gave him time to prepare his retaliation. Within a few short weeks he would be back in the city and the Ranu would be negotiating a peace treaty.

  From his eyrie, he watched the first explosions among his brother’s frontline and smiled bitterly. Inheritor should have been eliminated a long time ago. The Seers had bungled their planning and so had he. The consequences could have been worse than an irritating battle, but he felt satisfaction in knowing that he would ultimately defeat his older brother in an open contest.

  Chase studied the smoke rising from the battlefront, the storm front sweeping in from the west, and wondered how long it would be before the rain broke. Lightning flashed along the rim of the dark clouds and thunder rumbled periodically across the land, softer than the erratic thunderclap explosions, but longer and adding a sinister atmosphere. His role was to oversee the munitions lines winding towards the battlefront, supervise the men loading the horses and wagons and keep watch in case a marauding dragon egg came to drop its fiery load on them. A couple of airbirds had wobbled across the sky, like the one he’d seen when they first
escaped to Littlecreek, but their flights were brief and they never came in his direction.

  Munitions carriers returning from the frontline told him that the battle was messy. Warmaster Cutter’s guerrilla tactics were frustrating the enemy, who were trying to force Inheritor’s soldiers into a traditional battle. Instead, there were little conflicts raging across a wide field from the foothills into the valleys. The impending storm would stop the battle and give Inheritor’s small force respite to regroup, which Chase figured would only further frustrate Shadow’s army.

  All day he’d wondered about the canvas bag. The thought of it had tormented him ever since he’d learned of its true importance from Meg. If it was hidden in the palace catacombs there was a chance the Seers or Shadow could retrieve it. Or the Ranu might stumble upon it. Either way it would be lost. Worse, Meg hadn’t returned and they had no idea where she was. Shadow had brought no prisoners with him, which meant that she was either dead or locked away somewhere. Perhaps she was in the Bog Pit. If he went to the city he could find answers. Swift wanted to go with him, and Wahim, but it would be too great a risk to go together, especially with the Ranu occupation underway. Besides, he remembered a way into the palace that only he could negotiate. He’d lost the bag in the first place; it was his job to fetch it.

  The storm was close to the coast. Lightning chased itself across the horizon and the thunder rolled in more frequently. The earthly battle was about to give way to a battle of the elements. The dragon eggs were already sinking back into Shadow’s camp, beaten by the storm. He wouldn’t be needed to oversee the munitions for a while. It was less than a day’s quick walk to Port of Joy, and if he went now he would be there before dawn. He could search the catacombs, find the bag, and be back by sunset the following day.

  He spotted Runner unloading empty boxes from a wagon. He’d asked Inheritor and Cutter to let the youth help him at the munitions depot because it gave him a valid opportunity to ensure Runner didn’t vanish during the battle. He approached the boy and said, ‘You’ve worked hard today.’

  Runner grinned from under the fringe of his shock of black hair. ‘I don’t think I like working.’

  Chase laughed and patted his shoulder. ‘The fighting’s finished. The men here will take stock and everything has to be lashed down and secured. That storm will cause some damage.’ He paused, then added, ‘I’ve been asked to check out where the enemy are setting up camp.’

  ‘Can I come?’

  ‘No,’ said Chase. ‘This won’t be very exciting and I’m going to get drenched when the storm hits. Stay here and help the others, and then get inside a tent and keep dry. I need you to tell Wahim and Swift where I’ve gone. All right?’

  ‘I’ll tell Wahim,’ Runner replied.

  Chase ignored the boy’s deliberate snub of his mother. ‘Good. I’m leaving straightaway. I’ll be out for at least two days. Look after the others for me.’

  Runner grinned. Chase tapped the boy’s shoulder again and headed to collect his provisions bag.

  Swift watched white lightning burst along the horizon above Port of Joy. She searched for Wahim, whom she knew was closer to the erratic frontline, but the Shesskar was invisible in the lines of men straggling back to the camp. The break in the weather might prove a boon, perhaps forcing the two Kerwyn armies to begin negotiations despite Shadow’s obvious reluctance to talk after the loss of Port of Joy to the Ranu. She knew from Warmaster Cutter that Inheritor’s preference was to establish an alliance with the Ranu that would force Shadow to the negotiating table, but there’d been no sign from the Ranu that they were ready to negotiate with anyone. The only indication of hope was the news trickling through from the refugees that the Ranu were already inviting the Port of Joy citizens to return to their homes. The rumour that the Ranu had installed Prince Gift as the interim regent surprised everybody. ‘Shadow will be incensed,’ Hunter said with a bitter smile when he heard the news. Only Inheritor seemed to understand the Ranu decision, but he didn’t share what he thought.

  The roar of thunder interrupted her pondering and she noticed three men coming purposefully towards her. One of them was Hunter. He stopped in front of her and said, ‘Bring the ten best assassins you have.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ll explain as we walk. Hurry.’

  Curiosity piqued, Swift beckoned to individuals within the group unpacking their fighting equipment or hastily erecting and weather-proofing shelters until ten of her hand-trained apprentices stood with her. ‘Explain,’ she demanded of Hunter.

  ‘Shadow likes to play dirty,’ he replied as they and the assassins weaved through the camp. ‘He’s tried to have Inheritor killed.’

  ‘And Inheritor wants a return visit paid?’

  Hunter grunted assent and picked up his pace. The news quickened Swift’s heart. Striking directly at the enemy to prevent further battle by removing the cause was a tactic she understood. Shadow understood the tactic as well. He was behind the killings of his brothers, she thought. What he commissioned from me will now be paid back in full. She appreciated the chance to deliver justice in the best method she knew.

  ‘Is Inheritor injured?’ she asked.

  ‘We intercepted them before they got close enough. One got off a shot. It hit the wrong person.’

  ‘Peacemakers?’

  ‘Long-range, like the ones the Ranu have as standard issue. I think we were meant to think the Ranu killed him.’

  ‘That fits Shadow’s methods,’ Swift muttered.

  Hunter looked down at her as lightning flooded the surrounding hills and bushland. ‘You worked for him before all this, didn’t you?’

  ‘Don’t ask unnecessary questions,’ she replied, meeting his accusatory gaze with steady control.

  ‘I need to know.’

  ‘No. You don’t need to know,’ she said, an edge of warning in her tone that made his eyes narrow.

  ‘I’m not afraid of you,’ he said quietly.

  ‘You don’t need to be. Be grateful for that.’

  He hesitated, as if he had more to say, but instead he turned on his heel and strode on, the matter closed for the moment. She followed him along the temporary streets of the camp towards Inheritor’s headquarters, stepping over the equipment of the rebel soldiers who were frantically preparing for the storm’s arrival. The first isolated, heavy raindrops thumped against the earth, on shoulders and hats and helmets and shields. The human violence of the day was about to be dwarfed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  The rain teemed on the roof tiles across the street from her window and formed a dancing mist. The abandoned house where the woman and her friend had brought her in the Southern Quarter could only serve as a temporary refuge. Ranu soldiers, with their pristine white uniforms, brown skins and thickly bearded faces, had helped them for part of the short journey from the southern promontory and the Bog Pit’s ruins. They were gentle men for soldiers, kindling Meg’s memories of a time in her life when Ranu soldiers had escorted her through Western Andrak to Marella. Then, her fear for her daughter’s safety had been a barrier between the men and herself that kept them as strangers. This time it was the euphoric fog that dulled her senses, although by the time the rain came and the women retreated into the first available empty house, the fog was evaporating, leaving her senses heightened. By then, Meg knew exactly who she was and what had happened.

  ‘There are scraps in here,’ one woman called.

  ‘Nothing in here,’ the other replied.

  Meg’s saviours emerged from separate doors within the house. ‘I found enough to make a soup,’ the first woman, with dirty black hair, announced as she held up two turnips and a carrot. ‘I found a bowl as well. We just need to start a fire to boil some water.’

  ‘I didn’t find anything to light a fire,’ said the second woman, a small-framed, heavy-breasted brunette with a dirty but fine-featured face. ‘Guess we’re buggered. Raw vegetables it is.’

  The taller wom
an approached Meg. ‘How are you feeling now?’

  ‘I remember who you are.’

  The woman smiled. ‘You already told me that.’

  ‘No,’ said Meg. ‘I remembered your face, but not your name. Crystal Merchant.’

  Crystal nodded. ‘And you’re Batty Booker.’

  No, I’m Meg, she wanted to respond, but she let the deception stand. ‘I can help,’ she offered instead. ‘I’ll see if there’s something to start a fire with.’

  ‘I’ve looked,’ the brunette said indignantly.

  Crystal shrugged. ‘Let her look, Flower.’

  Meg smiled at the other woman and walked into the next room. It was a kitchen area, the open cupboards evidence of the search already made. A conversation in the adjoining room told her the brunette wasn’t happy with her company. ‘Why are we dragging the old dog around with us? We have to get out of the city.’

  ‘And go where?’ Crystal asked. ‘The Ranu aren’t our enemy.’

  ‘But we don’t need her. She’s just another mouth to feed. She’ll drop dead soon enough. We don’t need that.’

  Meg smiled grimly. The Ranu were in Port of Joy. There’d been a battle. As best as she could work out, the Kerwyn were gone and the Seers as well. But where?

  ‘Find anything?’

  The call from Crystal woke Meg from her thoughts. ‘No.’

  ‘Told you,’ Flower grumbled.

  Meg picked up a shallow pottery dish, held her hand above it and willed a flame to life. She emerged from the kitchen into the front room and the women stared. ‘There was a tiny bit of oil in this bowl,’ she said, setting it down on the floor. ‘Better get a pot to boil water in.’

  ‘How did you light it?’ Flower asked.

  ‘Flint,’ Meg said.

  Flower looked as if she was about to go into the kitchen to find the flint that didn’t exist, but Crystal stopped her by pointing to a pot on the cupboard. ‘That will do for soup. Hold it out in the rain. I’ll get a knife and start cutting these up.’