Inside the common room, two crouched men waited for her. She ducked as a bullet whined past her cheek, then closed her eyes. A brilliant ball of light burst in the room and vanished an instant after. The soldiers cried out and sank to their knees, clutching their eyes, blinded. Meg headed for the staircase, ignoring their moans.
On the landing a lone soldier confronted her with his peacemaker. ‘Don’t move,’ he warned, his finger tightening on the trigger. She imagined herself behind him and an instant later she was. The soldier straightened, gaping at the empty space where she had stood, and by then she was already ascending the next flight of stairs.
There were five soldiers on the second landing but they dropped their guard momentarily when they saw an old woman appear. By the time the soldier on the lower level shouted his warning she had fired five bolts of energy, leaving all five men writhing on the floor. She stepped around them and opened the door they had been guarding.
Shadow was lying on a bed, attended by three physicians and a Seer, in a bloodied sheet and green blanket pulled to his waist, his chest swathed in bandages. The physicians retreated at her entrance, but the Seer turned and raised his hand aggressively. Meg was faster. A searing bolt of white energy ripped through the Seer’s chest, punching him backwards against the wall. He crumpled to the floor, blood spilling from his open mouth.
Meg ordered the physicians to leave. They shuffled towards the door, and as they reached it she added, ‘I will kill anyone who comes up here. Do you understand?’ They nodded in terrified unison and edged out, eyes wide, stumbling with fear.
With a wave of her hand, the door swung shut and the bolt slid into place. Satisfied the room was secure, she approached the bed and stared at Shadow who stared back at her from a gaunt, pale face, his eyes sunk deep into their dark sockets. ‘Do you know who I am?’ she asked.
His lips moved as he forced a harsh whisper. ‘The Abomination.’
‘Meg Farmer,’ she said. ‘I’ve come for my granddaughter and the canvas bag.’
Shadow’s eyes didn’t move. He tried to lick his lips to speak, but it was as if he had lost the skill.
‘Where is Swift?’ she demanded, and glanced at the bandaging on Shadow’s chest. Fresh blood seeped through the fabric. ‘She did this to you, didn’t she?’
Shadow’s eyes narrowed a little and he tried to speak again, this time emitting a deep rattling cough. He raised his left hand and beckoned for Meg to bend closer to him. As she cautiously leaned forward, he rasped, ‘I had her executed.’
She fought the urge to kill him, even when she saw the faint smile form on his spit-encrusted lips. Instead, she ripped the bandaging from his chest to uncover the puncture wounds left by Swift’s knife. Meeting Shadow’s startled and agonised gaze, she said coldly, ‘You have one other chance to live. Where have you hidden the canvas bag?’
Shadow shook his head.
‘You’re going to die,’ she said. ‘I could save you. But I need the bag. I know you didn’t give it to the Seers. Where have you put it?’
His eyes were empty, begging, reminding her of those of people she’d seen lost to the addiction of euphoria, starving in the streets, dying to feed their need. But he forced his lips to work and hissed, ‘Rot in the hells.’
Something thumped against the door and a voice yelled, ‘Come out! There’s no escape!’
Meg left Shadow and studied the dead Seer. He was young, his hair still brown in colour, his beard thick and healthy. She searched his robe for anything of use but found nothing. The voice beyond the door bellowed again, ‘There’s no escape for you! Come out!’
She returned to Shadow. ‘You can’t win,’ his lips formed, but the sound did not come. She looked out the window at the daylight flooding the countryside as the sun rose above the eastern hills and remembered another Shadow, a young man she had met when she first came to Port of Joy as a Jarudhan acolyte. He had confided in her his ambitions to be a good man and a servant of Jarudha. That two men could share the same name and be so different saddened her. She lowered her gaze to the pale wretch on the bed and put her hand over his heart.
When Shadow’s bodyguard summoned the courage to burst into the room, they discovered their king dead, his empty eyes staring at something terrible beyond the mortal realm. Seer Pelican was also dead, a hole through his heart. There was no sign of the old woman.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
There was a time when tears came easily to her. Not so now, not after so much tragedy. Meg stood on a hill in the shelter of a twin-trunked gum tree and stared west where the battle was unfolding that would decide the Kerwyn kingdom’s fate. With Shadow dead, the outcome was inevitable. His troops would defect when they learned that their king was gone, especially when their opponent was the rightful heir to the Ironfist throne. Without Shadow’s protection, the Seers would be compelled to surrender, and with the Seers in custody the future was assured. The Demon Horsemen would remain locked in Se’Treya.
But still her heart ached. Swift was dead. Chase and Runner were missing. Again, the amber had led to the deaths of people she loved, people who were her family. It was a curse—it always had been—but it was her legacy and she couldn’t deny it or run from it any more. Swift had struck a crucial blow in mortally wounding Shadow and Meg had no right to take that from her because of her own sorrow at losing a granddaughter.
There would still be Passion and Jewel and little Jon to love when the war was over. And Chase and Runner could still be alive. She had lost Swift, but not her whole new family. The amber had not taken everyone this time and for that she could be grateful.
A brace of magpies swept across the sky above her, heading towards the eastern hills, and the vision sparked her memory of her own flight. Whisper, she thought. She formed a narrow portal between the twin trunks and stepped through into the village of Littlecreek.
‘We are lost!’ cried Law, pointing to the flames erupting all around as a flight of Ranu dragon eggs dropped thunderclaps on Princestown. He turned to Word, anger flaring. ‘If you had called the Demon Horsemen—’
‘Shadow’s men are deserting,’ Moon interrupted. ‘Look.’
Word watched the Kerwyn soldiers retreating along the main street before a white tide of Ranu, and flinched as another string of explosions rocked the earth. Shadows flitted across the rooftops and the balcony where they stood as the dragon eggs passed over.
‘Call down the Demon Horsemen!’ Law bellowed. ‘We have to call them!’
Word shook his head. ‘There isn’t time now. We have to leave this place.’
‘Call them!’ Law screamed. ‘I am willing to serve our Lord! Call them down!’
‘Stop!’ Word ordered, distressed by his colleague’s emotional demand. ‘You are Jarudha’s disciple! Have faith. There is no time to call them here. First, we make a portal to escape and then we can call the Horsemen.’
He glared at Law, daring him to defy him, but they both ducked when a bullet whined between them. They scrambled inside from the balcony, followed by Moon and Newday.
Inside the room, Word ordered them to focus on the interior door and, with their combined energy, he created a portal. ‘There’s a hill, half a day to the west. I’ve been there in my youth. This links to it. Go,’ he urged.
With Law leading, the Seers entered the blue glow, Word last.
They appeared on the crest of a long hill overlooking a valley. The vast Victory Plains stretched before them towards Princestown and the River of Kings and beyond. When Word arrived and closed the portal he found Moon, Newday and Law staring to the west at rising smoke. A flotilla of dragon eggs hovered above Princestown like cylindrical clouds and Ranu soldiers marched unimpeded across the plain. The brief one-sided battle was over.
‘They’ll hunt us down like kangaroos,’ muttered Newday.
‘They will perish in the cold fire of Jarudha’s wrath,’ snarled Law, turning to Word. ‘Call down the Horsemen now and we’ll destroy the Ranu and Inheritor’s rebels
in one blow.’
Word drew a breath. ‘You know the price,’ he reminded Law.
Law straightened, his face set. ‘I’m ready.’
‘Not yet,’ said Word. ‘We wait.’ Law’s determined expression shifted to incredulity, but before he could protest Word continued. ‘Hear me, brother. Call the Demon Horsemen now and we only get half of what we want. The Ranu are spread from here to Port of Joy and even out to sea. If you look closely, you’ll see that Inheritor’s rebels haven’t even come to this battlefield. We would waste our opportunity. But if we wait for them to gather in the city to celebrate their victory, we’ll catch them all in one place—Inheritor, the Ranu president, the Abomination, all of them. The Horsemen will have them trapped.’
‘But the Horsemen will kill all the people,’ Moon said. ‘Even the women and children.’
Word nodded. ‘They will destroy the city and everyone in it.’
‘Sinners will die in the Last Days,’ said Law. ‘Jarudha has always ordained that and you know it to be true.’
Moon and Newday made the holy sign.
‘If we can be patient for a handful of days,’ said Word, ‘our gift will be eternity.’
Warmaster Cutter rode up to Inheritor’s tent and dismounted, allowing a soldier to take his horse’s reins as he brushed dust from his khaki uniform. He acknowledged the salute from the two guards and entered the tent unannounced to find Inheritor waiting for him. He bowed his head but Inheritor said, ‘Forgo the formalities. What’s the news?’
‘The Ranu have routed the remnants of Shadow’s army. The enemy have capitulated.’
‘And my brother?’
Cutter’s smile faded. ‘With respect, my lord, your brother, the former king, is dead.’
‘How did he die?’
‘It’s commonly believed that he was assassinated, but there are conflicting reports.’
‘Swift?’
‘Or Lady Amber,’ said Cutter. ‘There are different stories.’
‘And the Seers?’
‘Escaped.’
Inheritor nodded as if he had expected that answer. ‘We need to find them. They’re still dangerous.’
‘Hunter and the Dogskinner brothers are coordinating men to track down the Seers,’ Cutter explained, but added, ‘If they used their magic to escape, they’ll be hard to find.’
A soldier’s voice interrupted from outside. ‘Your Highness? There’s a Ranu messenger coming.’
Inheritor turned to Cutter. ‘Shall we?’
Outside, they watched a squad of Ranu riders approach, their banner—a rampant black dragon against a white field—fluttering beneath the grey sky. The riders halted a respectable distance from the tent and one man dismounted to walk towards Inheritor. He bowed low when he reached him, then raised his turbaned head and said, ‘President Ki sends his greetings to King Inheritor of the Kerwyn people and invites you to attend the victory celebrations to be held this evening in your honour within the capital city.’
Inheritor bowed in return and asked, ‘What is your name?’
‘Caleb Ez Akmid,’ the messenger replied, his dark eyes shining with pride.
‘Return my greetings to President Ki and tell him we will be honoured to attend.’
Caleb bowed again. ‘It is my honour to convey this reply,’ he said.
‘Also tell the president that I am in his debt for the service he has done for my country and my people.’
Caleb gave Inheritor a broad and friendly smile. ‘I will,’ he answered. ‘It is also an honour.’ He bowed yet again, returned to his mount, and the Ranu riders wheeled and galloped out of the camp.
‘Can we trust the Ranu?’ Cutter asked, echoing his earlier discussion with Hunter.
Inheritor smiled grimly. ‘Do we have any other choice?’
A Ahmud Ki always enjoyed the pomp and ceremony of his first triumphant entry into the city of his defeated foes. The first city he had entered as victorious conqueror was the Central Andrakian capital, Lightsword, the site of the ancient Andrakian Great City where he had lived a thousand years before. That moment had been unique; a strange homecoming, a new beginning for someone who craved power. He knew then that he would have to expand the Ranu Republic to replicate the feeling. Now, more than thirty years after winning the Ranu presidency, he was entering a vanquished city as the conquering hero for the final time. Beyond the capture of Port of Joy, he faced an uncertain future. The Ranu people had spoken and they had voted for peace. His long and successful era of expansionism was ended. The dream was over.
Ragged lines of Kerwyn people stared at his cavalcade of noisy white horseless carriages as it rattled up the Main Way and crossed the King’s Bridge in the afternoon light. Overhead, a flotilla of dragon eggs shadowed the procession, reinforcing the might of the Ranu empire. Some women and children waved, but most just watched the procession in silent awe. He wondered about the future they would face when the new king began rebuilding his kingdom. Inheritor had all the requisite characteristics of a good ruler and the mental acumen to realise that it was wiser to accept the Ranu requirement of establishing a democracy in his land rather than clinging to the past. These people’s children would likely have a better life than their parents.
I have no children, he thought, and was startled by the statement. I have a host of children, he reminded himself. The president of the Ranu People’s Republic could have any woman he wanted, and he’d had his share. He was certain there were children scattered through the empire who could claim him as their sire. Of course, the few times former lovers had been foolish enough to make a grab at wealth and status, he had publicly denied any relationship and then quietly had them silenced, usually with suitable payment. Sometimes, however, by methods he never asked about. So yes, he had children but he couldn’t enjoy them. What would I do? he pondered. What does a father do?
His vehicle puttered to a stop and an attendant opened the door. When he stepped out, he put on his presidential black turban and straightened the creases in his white suit. The medals accrued from victories during his long and illustrious leadership clinked on his chest and glinted in the weak sunlight that broke briefly through the grey clouds.
Two lines of Ranu soldiers stood to attention in their pressed white uniforms, peacemakers shouldered, right clenched fists pressed against their foreheads. A Ahmud Ki walked along the aisle they formed, followed by his general, his advisors and his bodyguards. He recognised Inheritor among those awaiting him, still dressed in his rebel khaki uniform. He was flanked by his warmaster—a man A Ahmud Ki remembered from an earlier time—and a white-haired woman.
It was the woman’s green eyes that he met as he closed the distance. Even after so many years, seeing her the previous day at Inheritor’s camp had quickened his pulse and reignited his love for her. It wasn’t just the rush of magical energy when they touched; there was a deeper quality, an emotion that surprised him each time he saw her. Now, eyes locked on hers, he sensed the quickening in his spirit.
The king stood on the ruined palace wall in the dying light before sunset and addressed his people. His speech was inspiring. Not only did he promise to rebuild hope and prosperity in the new kingdom, he declared an amnesty for everyone who had served in his enemies’ armies. The only outlaws to be hunted for arrest were the Seers and Warlord Fist, who had escaped during the capitulation of his troops. The Seers’ acolytes were spared retribution and invited either to begin new lives or continue their service to Jarudha. Inheritor repealed the draconian Jarudhan laws instituted by Shadow and the Seers, but he also banned the cultivation, sale and use of euphoria. ‘The corruption of our fathers must not be our corruption,’ he told the crowd. ‘We will break the old chains and the old habits and forge a new strength in place of those weaknesses.’
He also declared his intention to oversee the development of a democratic state with representatives elected to the new Kerwyn People’s Assembly by all citizens above the age of fifteen, explaining that he would beco
me the equivalent head of state to the Ranu president. ‘We are at the sunset of a tyrannical past and tomorrow we will wake to the dawn of a new world of hope and peace,’ he promised.
News of King Inheritor’s unprecedented clemency and future plans spread rapidly through the city, drawing people out of their homes and hiding places. At first the overriding emotion was one of wonder at the promise of a new freedom, but that quickly turned to celebration and the streets soon filled with crowds singing and dancing and drinking to the long reign of their new king as the sun melted into the western ocean.
Meg excused herself as soon as the official business was ended, intending to begin her search for Chase and Runner. As she crossed the remains of the palace garden A Ahmud Ki intercepted her.
‘I need to speak to you,’ he said. ‘I’d like you to come with me.’
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘To my headquarters. I have something to show you.’
‘What is it?’
‘Please come,’ he urged.
Meg looked back at Blade Cutter who was watching them. The warmaster nodded. To A Ahmud Ki she said, ‘I’ll come with you, but I can’t stay for long.’
‘I won’t keep you,’ he promised and grinned. ‘Although…’ He left his statement hanging and winked.
Meg blushed and looked away. The Ranu president was astonishingly handsome with his trimmed speckled white and grey beard and grey almond-shaped eyes. He gently took her arm and led her towards his transport machine.
The cavalcade of Ranu vehicles wound along the Main Way and people waved and cheered when they recognised the white-haired woman riding with the Ranu president.
‘You should wave back,’ said A Ahmud Ki, nudging Meg’s knee with his own. ‘A good statesperson always portrays themselves as friendly to the people.’
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