The Secret Throne

by Peter F. Hamilton

  The hills grew steadily taller as they edged their way closer. Legs grew tired at kicking through so much pristine snow. Mr Anatole insisted on taking the lead as they went up one of the foothills, flattening down as much as he could with his boots so the sisters could traipse along behind him. Felix scampered along effortlessly at their side, yet despite his size his hind paws barely left a dint in the fluffy snow.

  ‘Mr Anatole, where did the Dark Lords and Ladies come from?’ Taggie asked.

  ‘Ah,’ Mr Anatole sighed. ‘That is a story of the mages from the First Times: it was both their biggest triumph and greatest disaster. At the start of the First Times, when the angels brought people to the Realms, magic was wild and strong, flowing through every rock and stream. Some people grew very skilled at shaping it. Spells, we call such shapes now, though they are small weak things compared to how it was back then. Those who had the greatest skills became the mages whose names still carry through history. The most powerful seers of those times saw other Realms beyond their own, and even learned to talk with their fellows across the grand divide. Once that talk began they formed the illustrious Universal Fellowship of Mages, with Mirlyn, the most powerful mage of all, as their leader.’

  ‘Yes,’ Taggie said enthusiastically. ‘Felix mentioned them, and Arasath spoke of the Fellowship as if they still existed.’ She enjoyed hearing about the First Realm’s history; if only lessons at school were half as fascinating.

  ‘In a way the Fellowship does still exist,’ Mr Anatole said. ‘For over a hundred years they devoted themselves and their families to finding a way that would allow them to physically pass between the Realms. Eventually, they tamed the last of the wild magic and used it to forge what are now called the Great Gateways.’

  ‘So how many Great Gateways are there?’ Taggie asked.

  ‘No one is certain,’ Mr Anatole said. ‘For some closed up over time as they grew tired of their own existence, and these now sleep eternity away. You see, each one contains the essence of a Fellowship mage. Only the will of a mage so powerful could shape and control such wild magic. Such a soul is the foundation of a Great Gateway, and also its keeper.’

  ‘The Great Gateways are alive, then?’

  ‘After a fashion, yes. Though they perform no other task than that which they were forged to do.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Taggie said sceptically. After talking to Arasath she had her own suspicions about that. ‘Why did the mages do it?’ she asked.

  ‘Some say it was to become immortal. Though such a life comes with a terrible price, you remain one thing in one place forever, with only travellers to talk to. Some speculate that is why the Great Gateways are becoming increasingly difficult with the peoples of the Realms – there is certainly less traffic through them than there used to be, even in my grandfather’s time. And there were always restrictions on travel to the Outer Realm. However, legend says that the Universal Fellowship mages were utterly selfless, and went about their task so they might grant the most extraordinary boon to their descendants. And one can understand why so many believe that. The Great Gateways were such a magnificent gift to the Realms: they allowed trade and travel which enriched everyone.’

  ‘And one got opened into a dark Realm by mistake?’

  ‘No,’ Mr Anatole said unhappily. ‘It was not a Realm, and certainly not by mistake. Mirlyn was said to be left desolate after the Great Gateways into the Outer Realm were opened, for then there was nowhere else left to go. He was the only Universal Fellowship mage not to forge himself into a gateway. Instead, he toiled on by himself – some say growing madder and madder – until he finally found a new frontier to reach out to. With his triumph complete, he forged himself into the greatest and most powerful gateway of all, reaching further than anyone had dared dream, extending far beyond our Realms into another universe entirely. Our universe is one which is ultimately built of light. Mirlyn’s Gate opens to a universe built upon the dark, the opposite of everything we are.’

  ‘So that’s where the Karrak Lords and Ladies come from . . .’ Taggie breathed in fascination.

  ‘Yes. The result of Mirlyn’s Gate opening has been catastrophic. Peoples from this universe who went through tried to change what they found, for it was so monstrous to their eyes. Meanwhile, the dark creatures who travelled this way seek to do the same here, because everything they find is wrong for them. It is a conflict which cannot end, for there is no common ground – we are intrinsically opposed.’

  Taggie turned round. ‘Jem, do you think we could—’ She broke off and gave her sister a suspicious stare. ‘Jem!’

  ‘Huh? Yes?’

  ‘Are you listening to your iPod?’

  Jemima plucked earplugs out from under her striped bobble hat. ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, Jem! This is important.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Jem! Come on, you have to pay attention to what’s going on. We’re all alone here, and Felix and Mr Anatole aren’t even sure this is the right route. You must start—’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘It is what?’

  ‘The right route. That’s the way. ‘Jemima pointed across to a fold in the land, which formed the start of a narrow valley that cut back into the hills. ‘Almost, anyway. We should go into the trees down there.’

  Taggie gave her sister an infuriated look. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Jemima stared back, equally stubborn. ‘That’s the right route to take. I know it is.’

  Taggie liked the idea of heading back down a slope again. But the trees up ahead were a lot closer now. ‘Don’t be stupid, you can’t know that.’

  Jemima’s hands clenched into tough little fists, which she jabbed into her sides. ‘That is the right way. And that’s the way I’m going. So there.’

  ‘Princess,’ Mr Anatole said quietly to Taggie. ‘Perhaps we should consider what your sister said.’

  Taggie couldn’t believe he was taking Jemima’s side. Jemima who had that smirk growing on her face.

  ‘My sister is a pain,’ she told him, because clearly Mr Anatole needed to be warned about Jemima’s annoying nature. ‘She doesn’t know anything.’

  ‘And yet,’ Felix said, ‘only two days ago you had never seen a talking squirrel, nor fought off a Karrak Lord with magic. Jemima is also a princess; the Blossom Princess in fact, descended from Usrith, as are you.’

  ‘See!’ Jemima said triumphantly. ‘Er . . . what’s a Blossom Princess?’

  ‘Traditionally,’ Mr Anatole said. ‘Any sister of the Queen of Dreams is referred—’

  ‘Someone’s coming,’ Taggie interrupted. She pointed back along the track they’d left across the snow-shrouded meadows. About half a mile away, dark red shapes were moving surprisingly quickly towards them. ‘Oh no, they look like . . .’

  ‘Rannalal,’ Felix confirmed. ‘A whole company of them. They’re mounted on usrogs, too.’

  ‘What are—? Oh never mind,’ Taggie said. From the way Felix’s paws were jittering, she knew the answer wouldn’t be good.

  ‘Hurry now!’ Felix said. ‘We don’t have much time.’

  BATTLE AT THE FROZEN WATERFALL

  Taggie and Jemima ran through the rumpled snow just behind Mr Anatole, whose long strides carried him along comfortably. Perhaps too comfortably: after only a minute the sisters were panting heavily as they struggled to keep up. Taggie had thought trudging up the snow-covered slope before was tough. This was ten times worse. The treeline was at least half a mile ahead, and the slope was getting steeper all the time.

  Behind them the short, armoured Rannalal were catching up fast. The usrogs they rode resembled a cross between spiders and wild boars, with eight legs scampering easily over the snow. Nasty, eager squeals came from jaws with sharp, upward curving tusks.

  ‘We’re not going to make it,’ Taggie gasped.

  ‘Taggie, please, I know we have to go down there,’ Jemima pleaded.

  Taggie glanced across the slope to the little valley. It was dow
nhill at least, but the trees at the bottom were even further away than those ahead.

  ‘Jem—’

  ‘Please. Taggie, I know that’s the way. I truly do.’

  Her sister was telling the truth – Taggie was suddenly certain of it. Jemima was annoying in many ways, but still they were sisters, and Taggie knew her better than anyone. But they’d surely never reach the trees before the Rannalal caught them. Not by running. ‘Mr Anatole,’ she shouted. ‘Head for that tree.’

  The tall Shadarain altered direction, powering through the cloying snow towards the tree Taggie had seen up ahead. It was one of several growing in the undulating meadows that led up the forest. An ancient beech which had already lost several boughs to age and wind.

  Taggie barely saw it now; her mind teemed with fleeting memories as she sought the kind of spell she needed. As they drew near she raised her arm. The symbols on the charmsward bands glowed with the green light of spring leaves as they spun round: a lightning bolt flicked up next to wind, which in turn settled against an axe. Not quite a death spell, and she needed to apply the magic just so . . . ‘Milsoa. Toisi.’

  A pale wedge of pink light shot out of her palm, slicing into the tree. It quivered, and a long oval sheet of wood peeled off the trunk.

  ‘Milsoa. Toisi,’ she repeated.

  Another big oval fell to the ground beside the first.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Jemima demanded.

  Taggie gave her a wild grin. ‘We need to get down fast, don’t we?’

  Jemima suddenly realized what the ovals of wood were for, and laughed in shock. ‘Oh yes. Yes!’

  ‘Get on,’ Taggie told Jemima as they arrived at the tree. The mounted Rannalal knights were barely a hundred metres behind now. She could make out their stumpy legs beating the sides of the usrogs, four heels jabbing in, urging their horrible spider-beasts to run faster.

  Jemima jumped on to the oval and clung grimly to the edges. Taggie pushed it with all her strength and it began to slide over the snow. After that fierce first push the makeshift sledge moved easily, starting to pick up speed as they headed down the slope. Taggie managed another five paces before she leaped on. The sledge skidded along by itself now, accelerating fast. She saw Felix standing on the front of the other piece of wood as Mr Anatole pushed him along. Then the old royal adviser was jumping on.

  A couple of arrows whistled down behind them as the Rannalal realized they were about to loose their quarry. But they didn’t have the range.

  Jemima was laughing so loud she almost choked. ‘Brilliant, Taggie. Just brilliant!’

  And still they were accelerating. Taggie saw a startled sheep lumbering out of the way, and chortled happily.

  ‘Taggie!’ Jemima screeched.

  There was a hawthorn hedge directly ahead of them.

  ‘Droiak!’ Taggie yelled instinctively, very pleased she’d spent all that time in the army truck rehearsing such things. Out of her hand flashed a small bluish lightning bolt, which she only just managed to line up in time. A big section of the hedge disintegrated in a shower of sparkling embers and steaming chunks of snow.

  The sisters hurtled through the gap, clinging to one another. Then laughed hysterically as they were through. Taggie checked to see where Felix and Mr Anatole were, and if she’d have to blow up another bit of hedge for them with the destruction spell (which she quite fancied doing). But they managed to steer through the smouldering gap.

  The crude sledge continued to streak along its downward path. Taggie watched the Rannalal start off after them, their usrogs kicking up plumes of powdery snow as they cantered forward. They weren’t going to give up, she realized. That cooled her sense of excitement more than the icy air striking her face. Ever since Lord Golzoth had pulled her dad down into the depths of the roundadown, it seemed like she’d done nothing but run away from the Karrak Lords and their followers.

  The death spells lurked at the back of her mind like hornets asleep in their nest. It would be so easy to unleash them. But killing would make her no different than the Karraks. ‘Not unless I have no choice,’ she promised herself.

  They reached the bottom of the slope, where it levelled out to take them to the bank of the frozen stream. The wooden oval skidded to a stop amid the ice-crusted reeds which lined the bank.

  ‘This really is the way,’ Jemima said meekly. ‘I don’t know how I know, but I’m sure about it.’

  ‘I trust you, Jem,’ Taggie said with a quick, warm smile.

  Mr Anatole and Felix arrived in a swoosh of ice particles. ‘Well played again, Princess,’ Felix said.

  Mr Anatole climbed off his sledge and gave Taggie a respectful bow. ‘Majesty, your magic is stronger than any I’ve witnessed before.’

  Taggie held up her arm, showing him the charmsward. ‘It’s my ancestors who show me what to do,’ she explained.

  ‘Yes, Majesty . . .’ Something in the old man’s voice betrayed doubt.

  ‘Come,’ Felix said. ‘The Rannalal are upon us still. We should be able to lose the brutes in the forest.’

  Taggie wasn’t so sure. Nonetheless she followed the big white squirrel as he bounded along the flat surface of the frozen stream. Behind them, the company of mounted Rannalal were halfway down the slope.

  ‘I’ll do what I have to,’ Taggie reassured her friends. ‘If they do catch up with us, they’ll be sorry.’

  The edge of the Farndorn Forest was just a few yards away now; a thick dark wall of big gnarled trunks that opened around the stream to form a cave entrance. Ropes of ivy and honeysuckle that were covered in a thick crust of frost dangled down like a curtain, obscuring whatever was on the other side. If indeed there was anything.

  Taggie murmured the incantation for a shield which coiled invisibly round her. Prepared thus, she brushed the frigid white cords aside and hurried in.

  The stream wound onward through the trees. Giant oaks and pines and beech and ash and chestnuts lined the side of the stream, producing a wonderful shaggy white avenue. A few meagre shafts of light cut through the gloom to dapple the ground.

  Then the trees parted, and the stream opened out into a broad pond with a rock wall on the far side. A frozen waterfall formed a jagged staircase up to the higher ground beyond.

  ‘We’ll have to go around,’ Taggie said. She didn’t think even Felix could clamber up that ice-slicked rock.

  Just then a red streak shot down from the roof of leaves and branches above the pond. Taggie found herself looking at the tip of an arrow that glimmered with the unpleasant violet of bad magic. The arrow was notched in a bow. The bow was held by a skymaid in a dark grey leather tunic that blended in perfectly with the winter forest. She was young, no more than Taggie’s age, with long ginger hair that floated round her head as if the strands weighed nothing. Big wings blurred the air behind her.

  ‘Stop right there, foul Karrak creature,’ she proclaimed fiercely. ‘Or I will send you back to whatever hell realm you came from.’

  ‘Whoa!’ Taggie exclaimed in surprise. ‘Hey, I’m not a Karrak.’ She tugged her hood off and gave the skymaid a desperate look. ‘See? Actually . . .’ She faltered slightly. ‘I’m a princess. I’m the heir to the shell throne.’

  ‘And I’m a racing skyhog,’ the red-haired skymaid scoffed. Laughter echoed round the pool’s clearing. That was when Taggie noticed the other skymaids and skyboys hovering above the pond – over a dozen of them, and each one with a bow that held an arrow ready.

  ‘She really is a princess,’ Jemima squeaked indignantly. ‘So just do as you’re told.’

  The skymaid pulled her bowstring back a fraction, as if she’d been challenged.

  ‘Not helping,’ Taggie grunted to her sister from the corner of her mouth. ‘Look, I’m going to show you something, so don’t shoot, OK?’ She slowly raised her arm, and the coat sleeve fell down to reveal the charmsward with every symbol shining bright emerald and the bands slowly turning.

  The red-haired skymaid frowned, lowering her b
ow a fraction, and peering round the violet arrowhead. ‘That is one of this realm’s crown jewels; it belonged to the Queen of Dreams, may she rest in peace.’

  ‘Yes! She was my grandmother.’

  ‘Young lady,’ Mr Anatole said in a loud, commanding voice. ‘Lower your weapon, please. You address your Queen-to-be.’

  ‘A Queen?’ the skymaid asked. ‘We are to have a Queen of Dreams again? How can such a thing be so? The only prince we had abandoned this realm long ago.’

  ‘Not any more,’ Taggie said. ‘That’s the reason we’re here. My father, Prince Dino, has been captured by the Karrak Lords. We’ve come to rescue him.’

  ‘Is this true?’

  ‘Perfectly true,’ Felix said.

  The skymaid’s bow lowered as she peered at the squirrel. ‘A Weldowen,’ she exclaimed. ‘This is an odd day.’

  ‘You’re telling me,’ Taggie muttered. She heard a commotion behind her, and started. ‘The Rannalal are coming. They’re chasing us. Please, will you help?’

  The skymaid’s grin was wide and generous. ‘I am Sophie, lady-in-waiting to my flock,’ the skymaid said. ‘And I am truly pleased to meet you, Queen-to-be.’

  ‘Please call me Taggie. And the Rannalal knights . . . ?’

  ‘Cousins!’ Sophie bellowed. ‘Get down here.’

  Four of the skymaids swooped down. Two of them caught Taggie under her arms and bore her aloft.

  ‘I’m Tilly,’ said the one with short blonde hair.

  ‘And I’m Elsie,’ the other informed her, the one with pale red hair that would have reached down to her knees if it had ever been calm enough. ‘A skymaid no more, but a skyhuntress, now! We’re going to burn every one of the dark creatures from our Realm.’

  ‘Right,’ Taggie said meekly. ‘OK.’

  ‘Elsie, calm down,’ Tilly said, with a grin for Taggie.

  They set her down atop the frozen waterfall, and shot off up into the air, wings blurring. Jemima was put down beside her by Sophie’s other two skymaid cousins. They saluted Taggie with their bows, and darted up into the tangle of branches and crisp-frosted leaves above the pond, shimmering from sight.