by Simon Kewin
“It's because running water leeches magic away,” said Lugg. “Flying over a river is not like flying over solid ground, even for a dragon. Magic flows from the earth, and running water stops that working. That's why the undain can't reach Andar. That's why the riders' dragons couldn't either. Not even the ancient ones could achieve such a feat.”
“But that can't be right,” said Cait. “A witch from Andar, Fer, told us two undain flew across the An to reach them.”
“Across the An?” said Lugg. “That's impossible.”
“So they all thought. Until it happened.”
“She's right,” said Nox. “One of the undain entered our world from Andar. It had flown across the river.”
“When was this?” asked Lugg. He sounded shocked.
“About a week ago.”
“But that's…” Lugg tailed off. He frowned, like he was trying to do calculations in his head. “I mean, the amount of Sprit needed would be incredible. It would be enough to supply Angere for years, all used up at once.”
Cait thought about the great pipeline in the refinery. The global network of collectors and pipes Ms. Sweetley had described. And she thought about how many people there were back home. Billions of them. And the screens she'd glimpsed in the refinery, scenes from all over the world of fires and wars and riots.
“The Spirit you receive,” she said. “Those metal churns in that cart. You do know where it all comes from, don't you?”
He didn't reply. She could see from his eyes that he did.
“Menhroth has been collecting Spirit from our world for centuries,” she went on. “That's how they were able to cross the An. All that suffering and pain piped in from our world.” She glanced aside at Nox, but he was looking down at the ground and didn't catch her eye.
“But why?” said Lugg. “Why would they go to so much effort? Two undain is hardly an invasion.”
“The book, of course,” said Cait. “The half that was taken to Andar and then to my world. They wanted it before the main assault.”
All Lugg's earlier delight at the opening of the wyrm roads was gone. “And did they get it?”
“Not yet,” said Cait. “Not when I left, anyway. Although the undain were there, pursuing those with it.
Lugg didn't speak for a moment as he thought about what she'd said. “They say these mountains go on forever,” he replied eventually, looking beyond Ran. “Maybe Menhroth doesn't know where Caer D'nar is. Maybe he won't be able to find us up here. Maybe we'll be safe.”
“Menhroth has dragonrider guards,” said Cait. “Of course he knows where this fortress is. Or at least where it was. He'll guess we've come here and come looking, however much it costs.” She glanced at Nox again. He would know more about a lot of this than she did.
“She's right,” said Nox. “Most likely they already have more flying undain constructed as part of the invasion. They call them dragons, you know. Some time very soon they'll come for us.”
“How long?” asked Cait. “Hours, days, what?”
Nox looked thoughtful. “Necromancy that powerful takes time. Power has to be dripped slowly into the creature's bones so they have a chance of surviving the crossing. But a few days, a week maybe, and they'll be here.”
“So, wait, you knew?” said Cait.
“Knew what?”
“About the undain they created to cross the An. You knew where all that Spirit was going. You knew what Menhroth intended for Andar.”
“Of course,” said Nox. “Although it was a surprise when the undain turned up at the Central Library. But I could hardly run Genera without knowing what Angere wanted. We had to make plans, build infrastructure, recruit the right people.”
“You sound like some company executive building a chain of factories or something.”
Nox shrugged. “That's what I was, pretty much.”
“You didn't stop to think what you were actually doing? All that suffering?”
“Look, Cait, I'm sorry. No, I didn't. I told you. Running an evil empire is actually a whole lot of fun. It's an absolute blast. You get to do whatever you like. Of course I didn't question what I was doing. I was having the time of my life. I'm sorry, but that's the truth.”
They trudged along in silence for a while after that. The ground rose slowly toward the slopes of the mountains. At least the effort made her a little warmer, although her toes were tingling into numbness.
Every now and then she stopped to peer back the way they'd come, but there was no sign of pursuit. Nor could she sense any undain anywhere. Up ahead, the peaks grew taller and taller, as if they were only then being pushed up from the ground. She couldn't pick out any towers or fortresses among them. Most likely this Caer D'nar had crumbled to dust centuries ago.
She thought about Danny, and Charis's words. The boy said something similar just before the end. The thought of it was too much to take in. It was this terrible weight in her mind she kept creeping toward and then fleeing from. Danny was dead. Stupid, funny Danny and his stupid, funny jokes. How could he be dead? She never should have gone to his house, never should have asked him for his help. His parents would be going crazy by now, and that was all her fault, too. The icy air froze the tears she cried as she stumbled forward. She almost wished the undain would find them again, so she didn't have time to think about him.
She returned Nox's jacket after a few hours. Despite Ran's fast pace, Nox was shivering slightly, his teeth gritted. He hadn't said anything. Lugg was marching on ahead with Ran, engaged in some long conversation she couldn't understand. She stopped while she slipped the jacket off. The cold was immediately intense, sucking the warmth from her.
“What do you think we should do?” she asked Nox.
“You want my opinion?”
She wasn't in the mood for more confrontation. “Yes. I have no idea where we should go next. We have no food and no warm clothes. Perhaps we should have let those riders take us to the An. We're farther away than ever. It seems hopeless.”
Nox pulled the jacket on. “We might as well see if this Smouldering Fire exists. If it does they may be able to help. If not, then we know we can use the wyrm roads now. We can come back here with Ran and use them to get to the White City.”
“I suppose.”
“You can work out the route, can't you? Use your inner eye or whatever it is?”
Somehow she doubted she'd be able to find a recharge point for her phone in the frozen wilds of a magical land. But Nox didn't have to know that. “Of course. If I have to.”
“And while we're talking about it, why don't you spooky up some heat? You can do lights, surely a fire can't be much harder?”
“It's not as easy as you think, Nox. Whatever you do there's a cost. A price to be paid. We're not like the undain, burning Spirit stolen from others.”
“No, I know. And think what you could achieve if you did. We wouldn't have to walk for one thing.”
He was joking. At least, she preferred to think he was. They started moving again, trying to keep up with Ran and Lugg.
“How did Lugg kill that rider?” she asked. “He could barely lift the sword.”
“I don't think he did kill it,” said Nox. “I think the sword did that all by itself. Because it's a true rider blade and it reacted when it came into contact with an undain wyrm lord. Like it was angry.”
“Magic swords. Great.”
“It doesn't help us much, though,” said Nox. “Not even Ran can defeat an entire army on his own. Although he'd probably try if you told him to.”
“The riders who stayed, then. The ones who became those monsters. They lost everything too, in a way. Dragons, swords, the wyrm roads.”
“Oh, sure. In return for immortality and superhuman strength. You have to feel sorry for them.”
“And what's with their weird transparent skin? They look hideous.”
“You know how fanatical they are,” Nox replied, keeping his voice uncharacteristically low. “You've seen how Ran is.”
“But transparent skin? I don't get it?”
“Apparently there was some doubt about their allegiances in the old days. To demonstrate that they had nothing to hide, they adopted this see-through skin when they underwent the rites.”
“That's insane.”
“A lot of things here are insane. Their skin became a mark of their devotion so they all ended up doing it. Instead of different-coloured tattoos they have those glowing lines.”
“And their dragons. What do you think happened to them?”
“All I know is they flew into the north, away from people,” said Nox. “Some reports said they were so broken by the loss of their riders they went to die among these peaks. We'll probably never know. Old stories. They don't make much difference to us.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Come on, let's keep up. If you really can't summon up a horse or something we'll have to walk faster.”
That evening they sat around a crackling fire of twigs and scrubby branches, gathered by Ran as they walked. There was more smoke than heat to the flames, but Cait was glad of the warmth, however faint. She'd lit the fire herself, after Bethany had quietly shown her how to work a flame. Cait hadn't mentioned to Nox he'd given her the idea.
The dead witch, meanwhile, had sounded more like a little girl again when they'd talked. She'd laughed and giggled as if her dread had lifted in the cold north, away from the undain. Cait had tried to discuss plans with her, decide what they should do next, but she'd got nowhere. Bethany was happy to be away from the undain and simply wanted to stay that way.
Now, Cait sat staring into the smouldering fire, seeing faces appear and disappear in the glow. Ran was off somewhere in the darkness, no doubt patrolling. Nox lay on the ground, eyes closed, possibly asleep. They'd eaten what few supplies Ran and Lugg had been able to forage: bitter, fibrous roots pulled from the hard ground and a few bright red berries that screamed poison to look at but which were actually very sweet. She'd eaten them, but in truth she wasn't very hungry, despite the long march.
Lugg came over and sat next to her. He poked the fire for a few moments, rousing it into a little more heat. He looked more sombre than before. Older, somehow. There was something else, too. Like a light in his mind. A secret that almost glowed through his eyes. She had to resist the temptation to delve into him to see what it was.
“I'm sorry for what Charis said,” he murmured at last, not looking at her. “About Danny.”
Cait didn't reply. She watched as sparks from the fire danced and swirled in the line of smoke rising through the air. The night sky was clear, a swathe of cold stars scattered across the sky. The sparks seemed to rise and join them.
“He was your beau?” Lugg asked.
“My what?”
“Forgive me, I don't always remember the right words. Your … boyfriend?”
“He was. Yes. Just about.”
“Such a terrible thing. One of many terrible things. We have to make them pay, don't we? That's all we can do.”
He sounded earnest. Deadly serious. He was right, of course. The price had to be paid. Even so, she wasn't interested in revenge. How was that any better? She just wanted this madness to stop. She wanted to go home.
When she didn't reply, Lugg carried on. “Was he a witch, too? A … warlock, I mean?”
“Danny? No. Nothing like that. He was just a boy. He was always pleased to see me, you know? And the thing is, he only got involved in all this because of me. I'm to blame.”
“No, I don't think so, Cait. The people from my world are to blame. The necromancy is to blame. You didn't ask for any of this to happen any more than he did.”
She sighed. If only it was that easy. “If it wasn't for me he'd still be alive, sitting at home playing computer games or watching football or trading stupid videos with his mates. And instead of that he's lying dead somewhere inside a sick city built of human bones.”
Lugg looked like he was about to say something else, then thought better of it. They sat together for a time, neither speaking.
“And what about you?” asked Cait at last.
“What about me?”
“You've lost everything. This morning you lived in a palace, knowing you faced the prospect of eternal life as an undain lord. Now you're on the run with a bunch of renegades from another world.”
Lugg grinned. “Honestly? This has been the best day of my life. Admittedly there haven't been many other good ones, but I wouldn't have missed any of this for the world.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. I told you. I always meant to run away and find the Smouldering Fire. Doing so with you and Ran is more than I could ever have wanted. I don't even know anyone else who isn't one of them. Especially not, you know, anyone my age.”
He glanced across at her as he spoke. She could feel the excitement flaring inside him. The thrill at what he was doing. She'd touched his mind more than once on the long walk, panicking that she couldn't trust him, that he was still, somehow, in league with the undain. She'd found no hint of deception in him. But there was this thought he kept returning to, rolling it over and over in his mind, too deep for her to see.
“You've been talking to Ran a lot,” she prompted.
Lugg nodded. “His language is different from that spoken by the ancient wyrm lords, but we can understand each other.”
“He said something to you, didn't he? Something important.”
He narrowed his eyes as he studied her. “How do you know that?”
“We witches know things.”
“Is that how you knew about the cart, when I crashed and lost all the Spirit?”
Cait smiled to herself. Probably best not to tell him they were to blame for that. “Like I said, we witches have our ways.”
“So you can see into my mind? Find out what Ran said?”
“Maybe, if I really wanted. But if I did, you'd never trust me again, would you?”
“No, most likely not.”
She thought he wasn't going to tell her, but then he spoke again.
“It was that sword, you see. The ancient blade that I brought for him.”
“What about it?”
“Their blades were sacred, bound to them. One that old would have been forged in actual dragon fire. And I killed an undain with it.”
“Which was amazing. I still don't get it.”
“The blades are like the wyrm roads. They only operate for the riders. Don't you see? Only a rider can use one of their swords, and I killed that undain with one. I don't know how I did it, but I did.”
“So that means…”
“Exactly. I'm a rider, too. Or I could be. I have the potential. You know I said I once thought one of the archways started to work? When I saw a mist through it? Ran said that was my rider blood stirring. Then when I was faced with that undain it woke within me.”
That was it. That was the glowing light of excitement filling his mind. It was everything he had ever wanted, something he had dreamed about for years.
“Were there riders in your family all that time ago?” she asked.
“There were riders in every family. It wasn't a matter of blood. It was a thing some people were born with. Girl, boy, rich, poor, no one could tell who would have the seed within them. Everyone was tested when they were young and those who could bond with a dragon became a rider. To do so was the greatest honour of the ancient world.”
“That's great. Incredible. So the wyrm roads will open for you now?”
“Maybe. Ran said I need training and discipline. My powers will wax and wane, so I shouldn't go off on my own or anything. Isn't it wonderful, Cait?”
“It is. I'm happy for you. Only, well, there are no dragons any more, Lugg. You haven't got a dragon and you haven't got a sword and you don't even have the tattoos. Don't take this the wrong way, but what will you be able to do?”
Lugg waved all this aside as if it were mere detail. “I don't know yet. But one way or another Menhroth a
nd Greygyle and Charis and all the others had better look out. A few days ago there were no wyrm lords in Angere. Yesterday there was one. And now there are two. And a witch. Pretty soon we'll be unstoppable.”
She didn't contradict him. In his mind there was some great army up there in the frozen wilds. An army big enough to sweep the undain away. It was a crazy fantasy, but she wasn't going to spoil it for him.
She lay down on the hard ground, lying as close to the fire as she dared, and tried to get some sleep. Thoughts of Danny drifted through her mind. After a while she stopped telling herself he was gone, and let herself succumb to her own fantasy.
Some time later, she was dimly aware of Nox putting his leather jacket over her. She stirred and turned over, but didn't fully awake.
11. Caer D'nar
That night Cait dreamed of shadows.
They were birds at first: the angular, flapping shapes of crows and rooks and ravens flocking above her. They circled, shadows merging into a whirling black mass, darkening the ground around her like ink. Their wing beats filled the air, loud as the wind roaring in the trees. Every time she looked up to see what they were doing one dived at her, wings tangling in her hair and slapping at her face. More and more birds came. Soon she was the eye of a storm of black feathers, pressing her to the ground.
She waited for their twig-like claws to scrabble at her, for those sharp beaks to peck at her neck and back. But they didn't attack. Their raucous cries were of alarm, not fury. They were trying to rouse her, trying to tell her something. Danger approached, some terrible danger that she had to wake up and face.
Then, as if swept away on a gale, the birds were gone.
In their place came a cold silence: the quiet of a winter's night when nothing moves and the ground is ice. Cait lay on the frozen ground and the cold was a white mist drifting over her. She tried to peer through the mists, make sense of what was happening, but the miasma thickened as if blown in on a wind she couldn't feel. In a moment she could see nothing else. Her world was reduced to a cocoon of white.
The fog moved over her then seeped into her, passing effortlessly through her flesh and bones to freeze her thoughts. Her body stiffened as if she were turning to ice.
