by C. J. Busby
“It came from the Akkadian Empire,” he said in a rasping voice. His black eyes glittered. “We haven’t tried there yet, Mr Smith.”
Mr Smith stretched his thin lips into a cold smile. “Indeed we have not, Mr Jones, indeed we have not. Maybe something’s afoot. What do you say?”
Mr Jones considered. “We’ll accept the summoning, then,” he said with a short nod.
The two dark figures strode out into the city square, leaving the narrow alley where they had been empty and silent.
Ra-Kaleel returned to the palace from an inspection of the city guard, hoping for a quiet hour and a reviving goblet of Byzantine mead. He was disconcerted to find Mr Smith and Mr Jones in his audience chamber.
“What in the Sargon’s name are you doing here?” he said, looking at the tall black-suited men with distaste. “We paid you well for your work and told you never to return.”
“You sent for us,” rasped Mr Jones, frowning. “A summoning. We came as soon as we could.”
The Chief Ensi frowned back. “I most certainly did not send for you,” he said. “I have no need of your services any more. I am capable of dealing with any renegade magic-users on my own.”
Mr Smith glanced at his companion and held his hand up soothingly. “We are aware of your much increased mightiness, O great Ensi,” he said with a slight bow. “But there was a spell, and it came from your empire.”
“Well, it was not from me,” said Ra-Kaleel petulantly.
Mr Jones put his head on one side and looked hard at the Ensi with one bright black eye.
“It was, now I think of it, a slightly … uncoordinated summoning. A general call. It may have caught us by accident rather than design.”
He turned to Mr Smith. “There’s something here, I can feel it. There’s kingdom magic somewhere near, or my name’s not Jones.”
Mr Smith grinned nastily. “Which it most certainly is, eh, Mr Jones?” He laughed a rattling laugh and turned to Ra-Kaleel. “Someone summoned us. And now we’re here, I have a feeling we may be in exactly the right place … We’re after a piece of deep amber.”
He watched Ra-Kaleel attentively as he spoke, but the Ensi was utterly impassive. Too impassive, thought Mr Smith.
Ra-Kaleel barely raised an eyebrow as he replied. “You’re mistaken if you think we have anything of that sort in the Akkadian Empire. I’m afraid your trip has been wasted, my friends.”
Mr Smith glanced at Mr Jones, and he nodded. The two of them moved towards the Chief Ensi so fast that he had no chance to react. At the same time, a wave of Mr Jones’s hand caused the door of the great audience chamber to slam shut. The guards standing at various points around the room all slumped to the ground, completely unconscious.
“We are not your friends,” said Mr Smith gently, his lips almost touching the Chief Ensi’s ear. “We are here for the deep amber and you – who so obviously know exactly what we’re talking about – you are going to show us where to find it.”
“But first,” whispered Mr Jones lovingly into Ra-Kaleel’s other ear, “you are going to explain why we can taste kingdom magic in this world where there shouldn’t be any.”
Ra-Kaleel held himself still, trying not to show the fear drenching his body. Mr Smith and Mr Jones had been very useful hired hands some years ago, when there had been a small rebellion of magic-users, but he’d been glad when their contract had ended and they’d disappeared back to whatever dark world they came from. Now they’d returned, and they wanted the deep amber … Ra-Kaleel knew he should defend the dragon stone with his life rather than let it fall into an outsider’s hands. But his legs felt like water and the hot breath of the two men in each ear felt like the burning fires of the afterlife. Ra-Kaleel closed his eyes and resigned himself to his treachery.
“The magic you have detected – I noticed it yesterday. My spies have tracked the source to the caves of the Thieves of Ur. An informer has agreed to deliver the magic-user to us. As for the amber … It’s here, in the palace. I can guide you to it.”
“Excellent,” said Mr Smith, standing up straight and patting Ra-Kaleel on the back. “Then I suggest you take us to it right now, and we’ll deal with your magic-user at the same time.”
He grinned at Mr Jones, and Mr Jones gave a rasping laugh. Ra-Kaleel smiled feebly, and wondered if he was going to be sick.
Not far from the palace, the guards at the Lapis Gate were looking at Jem with an air of puzzlement. The great arch in the city wall was always busy with travellers and merchants entering and leaving the city, but it was highly unusual for officers of the imperial guard to turn up and demand to be let into the locked chamber at the side of the gate.
“An errand for the Chief Ensi, you say, sir?” the taller of the two guards repeated. “We didn’t hear about it. What cohort did you say you hailed from?”
Jem frowned. “It’s none of your business, O most lowly of gate guards,” he said, standing up straighter. “It is enough for you to know that my mission is important. If you hinder me, Ra-Kaleel shall hear of it.” He leant forward and added, in a low tone, “And he won’t be happy.”
The gate guards hesitated. Behind Jem, Inanna had the hood of her cloak pulled well up, but Dora could see that she was looking worried. They had agreed that Jem would have to do the talking as Inanna was not supposed to leave the Temple precincts. If she was spotted in the streets, word would get back to Ra-Kaleel almost instantly. But Jem’s attempt to pass himself off as one of the imperial guard was not going well.
“Hey, Jeremiah?” called the guard, as his eye swept Jem up and down. “Might need to send a message through to headquarters on this one.”
A thin man, who had been recording the goods and travellers passing through the gate into the city, looked up from his scroll and raised an eyebrow. “Trouble, Bashar?”
The tall guard looked back and forth from Jem to the scribe. “I’m not sure. This whippersnapper here wants entrance to the gate. He’s claiming to be working for Ra-Kaleel, but I’ve not seen his face before …”
The scribe frowned and started to move towards them. Inanna whispered in Jem’s ear, and he stood up straighter and accosted the guard again.
“You’re wasting time!” he said in a commanding voice. “Let us through immediately. I have an urgent mission, I tell you!”
Dora could feel sweat trickling down between her shoulder blades, and it wasn’t just the searing heat in the city streets that was causing it. A crowd was starting to gather as they argued with the guards, and the thin scribe, after looking suspiciously at Jem’s armour, was reaching for a strange device on his desk, like a flat box lit up with green buttons.
Dora was just wondering whether to risk a spell when Inanna stepped forward. She pushed her hood back, revealing her beautiful dark hair and the shining jewels and beads braided into it.
“Enough!” she said dramatically. “It is I, Inanna, the daughter of the Sargon, ruler of the Great Empire, High Lord of the Universe. How dare you question and impede myself and my protectors? We are under direct orders from the Chief Ensi, and if you hold us here a second longer he will have you hauled to the dungeons!” She snapped her fingers to emphasise her point, and the gate guard blanched and bowed.
“Your Highness – of course … Please enter!”
Inanna stalked grandly past, gesturing to Jem and Dora to follow her. She halted pointedly at an ornate door in the side of the gate arch. It was small but richly decorated, covered with lapis lazuli flowers and stars.
“Open it!” she ordered, and the scribe hurried to her side with a bunch of keys. Choosing a large golden one, he unlocked the door and gestured at the small chamber within, hollowed out of one of the great columns that supported the gate.
“Your Highness,” he said respectfully, and Inanna nodded to him and swept into the chamber with Jem and Dora behind her.
Once inside, they shut the door firmly and bolted it across, and only then did Dora draw breath.
“Blood and bone
!” said Jem. “That was close. But we’re in.”
Inanna shrugged. “No thanks to you,” she said with a pout. “And now they know I’m with you and not in the temple. It won’t take long for Ra-Kaleel to hear of that. We’ll need to hurry.”
That, thought Dora, was an understatement. She was beginning to feel a sense of growing urgency. They still needed to find the Druid, and the amber, and then they had to escape from this unpleasant world with its caged, contained magic – and the quicker the better.
“So – do we know how to get into this labyrinth, now we’re at the Lapis Gate?” she said, glancing anxiously back at the bolted door.
The chamber was a small square room with slit windows on the side of the gate that faced outwards from the city. It was clearly meant for defence but was also used as a general storeroom, with bits of spare armour, weapons, sacks of confiscated goods and spare scrolls scattered haphazardly around on benches and tables. Inanna tried a few knobs on the relief carvings on the walls but without success. Dora lifted a few boxes and looked behind an embroidered hanging, but she couldn’t see anything that looked like a door.
“There!” said Jem at last, pointing to an old carpet on the floor. One corner had been pulled up by someone dragging a heavy chest across the floor – and just visible underneath was the edge of a trapdoor.
Together they pulled the carpet back and lifted the trapdoor. Disappearing down into the darkness was a set of worn stone steps.
“The dragon’s dark labyrinth,” breathed Inanna. “So it does exist.”
“What did the poem say?” asked Dora, with a slight shake in her voice.
“The dragon’s fire amber,” said Jem. “Hidden within… It’s down there somewhere.”
“And so are the dragons,” said Inanna, her eyes widening.
Dora took a deep breath and conjured a werelight, and the three of them stepped into the hole. Jem, who was at the back, let the trapdoor fall back down behind him, sealing them into the darkness.
PART FOUR
Chapter Ten
The portal Caractacus had conjured hung like a sheet of mist in the sunshine of the garden. As Simon stepped through it, the familiar world around him dissolved. For a moment, he hung in space, nothing but greyness surrounding him. Then, almost immediately, he felt ground under his feet and trees looming over him. Cat stepped through behind him, pushing a trailing bramble out of her way.
Simon could feel the magic as soon as he was through the portal. The tingle of it was all around, like a kind of music. He breathed in deeply, thinking about his dad, who’d grown up here amongst all this magic. He wondered if Dad had ever walked through this part of the Great Forest. Apart from the tingle of magic in the air, it all seemed quite normal. The trees seemed to be just trees, the sky and earth and undergrowth no different from home. He glanced back at Cat and grinned.
Caractacus beckoned to them, and they started to walk deeper into the forest, following a dark, narrow path that twisted and turned endlessly. As they got further in, they began to hear strange noises, catch glimpses of things that shouldn’t – couldn’t – be there. Caractacus was flying ahead of them, looking less like a caterpillar and more like a small bright blue bird, leading them on into the greenish gloom.
Simon pushed aside a creeper and stopped, startled. He could have sworn that behind it was a battered green wheelie bin – but when he blinked it disappeared. Only a few steps further on they caught the sound of a station announcement through the trees: The 14.27 from Chichester is approaching Platform Six. And then suddenly there was a whole row of people, standing on the path in front of him.
“S-sorry!” said Simon, stopping and backing away slightly. But the people didn’t respond. They appeared to be looking sideways, as if they could see something approaching, and Simon could hear the squeal of a train’s brakes.
“Just ignore them,” called Caractacus, flitting back to them above the people’s heads. “It’s another world. We can see in, but they can’t see us.”
As he spoke, the people faded, and there was just the rustle of branches and the sound of soft leaves underfoot.
“Sorry about that,” said Caractacus. “There are always a few shifts in the forest, but it’s getting worse lately. Smith and Jones have been tearing through the worlds trying to locate the missing bits of amber – leaving chaos behind them. And we haven’t enough agents to see to it all, most of them are too busy searching for the amber themselves.”
“Have they found any yet?” said Cat, brushing a few stray twigs out of her blonde hair as she glanced up at him.
Caractacus looked back at her with an odd expression, as if trying to decide how much to tell her. Then he nodded. “We have found one. The fire amber.”
He flitted further on, and then, as they followed, he continued. “Each of the pieces of amber has an affinity for a different element – yours is the earth amber of the north. It’s the most stable and the strongest of the four. The queen has the sky amber, and for the moment she’s enough in control of it that Ravenglass hasn’t been able to take it from her. That might change – we’ll need to think about getting her away if he gets his hands on another piece. It’ll make his magic that much stronger.”
“But the fire amber?” said Cat, pushing a stray branch out of her way. “Can you get it before he does?”
“We’ve sent an agent there. We hope he’ll be able to find it before Smith and Jones get wind of anything. But the fire amber’s always been a little tricky to control.” He sighed. “And it’s in a rather dangerous place for magic-users, unfortunately. The Akkadian Empire.”
Cat frowned. “That sounds familiar somehow … Wasn’t there an Akkadian Empire on our world a long time ago?”
“Yes, indeed. The two worlds overlapped for a time in that area. Commonalities, you see – both hot, dusty places, good for dragons. There was a lot more overlap, in those days, between all the worlds.”
“Is that why the kingdom seems so similar to our bit of the world?” said Simon. “Those other places we opened portals to – they were really different. But the kingdom seems much the same, except … like our past, or like fairy tales. Knights and magic and castles.”
Caractacus nodded. “The kingdom’s always been close to your world. Yours was one of the first worlds to be made, and there was a lot of back and forth in the early days. You gave us knowledge of metalwork and other things. Knights and so on.” He screwed up his face. “Foolish ideas. And in return we showed you magic. After all the worlds became split, memories of the kingdom remained in your folk tales. The Land of Faerie, Tir-na-nog, the Otherworld – you have many names for us.”
For a moment he appeared to be lost in thought, then he shook himself and fluttered to a branch on the path ahead.
“Come along, come along – we need to get to the Great Tree and show that sword to the Guardians. The worlds are shifting, I can feel it – and we must be prepared.”
The Great Tree was a golden colour, and it glowed with such a strong light that the whole clearing in which it stood seemed to be in full sunshine. Great tangled roots arched away from the enormous gnarled trunk and twisted and turned around each other before falling back down into a blanket of golden leaves. The trunk was sculpted into the strangest shapes, as if many different trees had become fused as one, all fighting to rise up and outwards, sending huge branches soaring up to the sky. But where the sky should have been, all they could see was a white, swirling mist into which the branches disappeared. It was constantly moving and changing, like cloud formations in a hurricane. It was beautiful and awesome, and it made Simon feel rather faint.
“That’s the Great Tree?” he said, slightly breathlessly.
“Indeed it is,” said Caractacus proudly, as if he’d planted it himself. “The World Tree – the centre of all the worlds of light.”
He bowed towards the tree, and then called out impatiently. “Well – come on then! Where are you all? I’ve brought the children – and a rath
er interesting sword.”
As he spoke there was a faint rustling sound, and then from behind the tree – or was it from within? – a number of rather odd-looking people emerged. They were tall, and their skin was green and brown, flecked with gold. The colour of leaves, Simon thought. And then he realised that the people looked altogether like trees – and yet like people as well. He blinked.
The people – or trees – gathered around them. They came closer without Simon ever being quite sure whether he’d seen any of them walking, and afterwards he wasn’t even sure how long he’d stood there while they gathered. It was like watching a clock intently and then realising the minute hand had shifted from one number to another.
“These are the children?” said one of the tree people. He (Simon was pretty sure it was a he, somehow) was browner and sturdier than most of the others and more weather-beaten. Simon found that if he concentrated hard, he could see two hazel-brown eyes regarding him questioningly. At which point he realised that he was definitely looking at a person and couldn’t think why he’d ever thought it might be a tree.
“Yes, the children,” said Caractacus. “I told you. And the sword that appeared in their world. Their father’s sword.”
The man blinked at Simon and Cat, and extended a warm brown hand to each.
“I am Rowan,” he said. “I am one of the guardians. We find it hard to assume … um … human form. So generally only one of us will do so, to speak for the others.”
He nodded at the gathered tree people around him, most of whom were now looking much more like trees, as if they’d temporarily lent Rowan all their more human aspects. Holding the two children’s hands, he closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.
When he opened them, he looked troubled.
“You have power,” he said. “You will both have an important part in what’s to come. But there is a dark shadow over you. There are dangers, and choices – and things may not go well for the Great Tree if you make the wrong choice.”
