At the same time as the War Emperor reviewed his troops in the Second Realm, Grand Lord Amenamon was standing in the courtyard of his castle in the Fourth Realm awaiting a display of his newest weapon. The castle was made from blocks of black granite, each one taller than a man. It had been twenty years in the building, using over five thousand slaves the Karraks had rounded up from across the Fourth Realm after Rothgarnal. They had cursed and spat on every hated stone as they laboured under their new masters to build walls and battlements the like of which had never been seen in the realms before. All their invocations and tears had come to naught. The new Grand Lord’s impregnable citadel rose from the ruins of the old king’s elaborate palace in Hothrielle, the ancient eastern capital of the Fourth Realm. It could be seen for miles in every direction, a brooding presence which seemed to drain the light from the land, as well as all hope. Smoky shadows drifted from its tall brutal turrets, winding their way up into the broken grey sky, the roots of the Fourth Realm’s winter.
In the gloom of the central courtyard, formed by walls like cliffs, Grand Lord Amenamon strode along the front rank of his newest and strangest army. The soldier gols he inspected were as tall as he was, and he was the tallest of all Karrak Lords and Ladies. They’d been fashioned from clay in a roughly human shape, with a featureless cylinder for a head, and animated by a magic adapted from the art of the Second Realm’s anamages. Over a thousand of the contraptions were lined up in front of him in neat ranks. Set deep in a head that was practically skeletal, his skin was stretched so thin over it, Grand Lord Amenamon’s featureless black eyes examined the gol at the end of the front rank. Like all its kind in the courtyard, the contraption had no right hand. Instead, the wrists had been replaced by a peculiar metal socket.
‘Show me,’ Grand Lord Amenamon ordered.
Lady Lanatoth stepped forward, her smoke robe swirling as she lifted up the heavy Outer Realm machine gun. The modified gun’s stock clicked neatly into the gol’s socket.
‘Kill,’ Lady Lanatoth commanded the gol.
The solder gol swung round to face the Rannalal knight who had been in charge of the detachment guarding Red Loch Castle when the Queen of Dreams arrived to break Lord Colgath out of his prison. The Rannalal was tied to a post just in front of the high stone wall, his four legs chained together. He was still wearing his scarlet armour, with his enchanted shield strapped to his chest to afford further protection. The shield’s green and orange runes glowed strongly amid the grey gloom. Nonetheless, he squealed in panic, twisting his long, pig-like snout from side to side as he tried to break free.
The machine gun fired. Long pale flames flickered around its muzzle as its roar reverberated deafeningly round the courtyard.
Even Lord Amenamon swayed back slightly from the brutal violence of the weapon. The gol stopped firing. All that remained of the wooden post was a stump of splintered wood jutting up from the frosted flagstones. The wall of black granite behind was deeply cratered from the impact of the bullets with their bad-magic tips. Of the luckless Rannalal commander there was no sign.
Up on the ramparts, rathwai were crying in shock, their leathery wings extended unsteadily.
‘That is good,’ Lord Amenamon pronounced. The blue flames that were his teeth burned a little brighter in approval. He turned his skeletal head to Lady Lanatoth, the thin white skin paler than the flecks of snow that fell from the Fourth Realm’s blanket of grey cloud. ‘Fit all of them with the weapon. Then march them to Rothgarnal.’
‘Rothgarnal, my lord?’ Lady Lanatoth asked.
‘Yes. That is where this began. That is where this will end. Have the gols dug in and camouflaged with your strongest magic, ready for ambush. I will bring my army there in another week.’
‘I understand, Grand Lord.’
Grand Lord Amenamon strode back into the castle. His throne room was empty apart from the throne itself, made from the broken bones of the most ferocious beasts to be found in all the realms. He settled into it, and stared at the wall directly ahead. There were several small fires burning in alcoves, each of them with different-coloured flames that drew the heat out of the air. His gaze settled on the one with mauve flames, and his hand gestured at it. The flames grew wider.
‘Where are you, brother?’ he asked. The flames danced and spun, but they provided no vision.
The Grand Lord grunted in disappointment. The effort of the spell wearied him. He closed his eyes for a moment . . .
‘You know where he is, my lord,’ a smooth female voice said.
The Grand Lord opened his eyes and saw the chilly blue flames reaching the top of their alcove, and slowly a ghostly figure became clear. ‘He is allied with the Abomination,’ he whispered in fury.
The apparition spoke again. ‘I understand your dismay, my lord. Truly I do. As I know you will do what honour requires, just as you have been doing all these long centuries. Do not falter now.’
The Grand Lord finally turned to face the wavering figure of Queen Judith. ‘I know what has to be done. I simply don’t trust you.’
Queen Judith smiled gently, as if the insult had never been spoken. ‘I have delivered the War Emperor’s armies to you, as our bloodbound agreement promised.’
‘They’re not at Rothgarnal yet, Queen. And the Abomination herself challenges the War Emperor. She knows of our preparations.’
‘Ah,’ Queen Judith said sympathetically as she glided closer. ‘Is that the cause of your distress? Then I have some news that may please you.’
‘What?’
The cold blue flames flared once more, licking up out of their alcove. On the opposite side of the throne room the spectre of an elegant seventeen-year-old girl materialized, her soft brown hair arranged stylishly around a pretty face with brown eyes that could produce an unnervingly sharp stare. ‘Good day to you, Grand Lord,’ Katrabeth said.
Grand Lord Amenamon’s teeth flames stabbed out hot and bright as he snarled at the young sorceress he found so revolting. The one person he despised more than Queen Judith was her daughter. Now here her apparition came, defiling his throne room by shimmering sedately above the dark flagstone floor. ‘You failed to kill the Abomination,’ he spat. ‘And because of that, Captain Feandez is on his way to the War Emperor. He could ruin everything.’
Katrabeth’s answering smile was malicious as she held up a bullet whose tip glowed violet with bad magic. ‘Behold: the only proof the Queen of Dreams possessed that you have armed your stolen gol army with Outer Realm guns. And I have it. Me. Not the War Emperor for whom it was intended.’ As she held it, the brass case started to crumble into dust, fine grains slithering like liquid over her hand to fall away. With a flourish, she crushed the lead tip with its glimmer, and like a conjuring trick it was gone. ‘Oops. No more.’
Grand Lord Amenamon nodded with some satisfaction. ‘And what of those who were taking it to him?’
‘Sunk without trace. It was all very sad.’ She laughed grimly. ‘So now there is little the Queen of Dreams can do to stop the War Emperor from invading the Fourth Realm.’
‘The Abomination will cast as much doubt as she can,’ Amenamon said.
‘Most likely,’ Queen Judith said. ‘But hopefully now she has Colgath she’ll embark on her ridiculous quest to find Mirlyn’s Gate.’
‘My father died to keep it hidden. It must never be found. I must not have anyone . . . questioning the path I have chosen for us. There can be no alternative shown to tempt them. My victory is close.’
‘Quite right. But their quest plays to our advantage.’
‘How so?’ Grand Lord Amenamon asked.
‘I suggested the War Emperor appoint Katrabeth as his special envoy, with his full authority to detain the Queen of Dreams and bring her to the Gathering,’ Queen Judith said.
‘I will know when they begin their journey,’ Katrabeth continued. ‘Wherever Mirlyn’s Gate is hidden, it will be a long and lonely route to it. That is where I will strike.’
‘No more m
istakes, Katrabeth,’ Grand Lord Amenamon growled. ‘The Abomination must not return.’
‘She won’t.’
‘Your victory will come swiftly, Grand Lord,’ Queen Judith said. ‘And then mine.’
‘You think it will be a victory?’ Grand Lord Amenamon asked scornfully. ‘Don’t be so sure. It has not brought me contentment.’
‘I will not waste it as you have,’ Queen Judith replied loftily.
The blue flames leaped out of the alcove, growing painfully bright – and Grand Lord Amenamon closed his smooth black eyes. When he opened them again, the throne room was empty. He directed a hateful hiss at the alcove where the icy blue flames now burned normally, then beckoned to one of his Ethanu servants. The creature walked over slowly and surely, wearing its leather coat and a hat with a wide brim, under which were a pair of circular mirrored glasses. ‘Summon Lord Drakouth.’
The Ethanu bowed as far as it could. ‘Yes, my lord.’
It didn’t take long until Lord Drakouth strode across the throne room to kneel before the Grand Lord. ‘My lord.’
‘I have an important task for you,’ Grand Lord Amenamon announced.
‘I am honoured to be chosen,’ Lord Drakouth rumbled smoothly.
‘My brother has been bewitched by the Abomination. They will soon be travelling together. It will be a long and difficult journey. They will suffer many perils, not least the sorceress Katrabeth. Her strongest desire is to kill the Abomination, but she will also try to eliminate my brother. This must not happen.’
‘I will ensure it does not, Grand Lord.’
‘Yes. You will. I have chosen you because you have the last remaining private gate.’
Lord Drakouth remained kneeling, but his smoke cloak betrayed his concern by shifting in fast ripples. ‘My lord?’
‘I know it is near its end, but you will never need it again once we destroy the War Emperor’s armies and extend our rule across every realm. So when you find my brother, you are to bring him directly back to me. Do you understand? Directly.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘If you have the chance you may also strike at the Abomination and her companions. And should Katrabeth perish during this endeavour I would not be displeased.’
‘It will be my pleasure to serve you thus, Grand Lord.’
‘Of course. And to demonstrate my gratitude in this matter, I will make a gift of the First Realm to you as your personal fiefdom after we have retaken it.’
‘My lord is most generous.’
VISITORS
The large and elegant snow eagle swooped out of the sky and alighted on the narrow grassy path in front of a wooden doorway set into the hillside. A magical, dark grey haze boiled around the white bird, twisting and altering its shape. It fizzled away to reveal Taggie.
Sophie streaked down through the air in a red shimmer. Her wide, feathered feet folded up, and she landed to stand beside her friend. ‘You’re really getting the hang of flying,’ she said with a grin.
‘I’ll never be as fast as you.’ Taggie sighed.
Sophie pursed her lips contentedly. ‘No. Shall we go?’
The door had no handle. It swung open as the two girls approached, revealing a curving tunnel, lined with dark-red brick. They walked along until they came to another handle-less door identical to the first. This one was shut.
‘I am the Queen of Dreams,’ Taggie told the Great Gateway. ‘And I have a question for you, Arasath.’
‘It seems as though I do nothing else but answer your questions these days, dear Queen.’ Arasath’s mild voice spoke from behind her. ‘Perhaps someday I will once again perform the act I exist for, and grant passage to the Outer Realm.’
Taggie smiled and continued: ‘You once told me that you believe Mirlyn’s Gate is still intact.’
‘He is the unheard, yes.’
‘But not diminished? Not dead?’
‘He was concealed after Rothgarnal. That is all we know.’
‘I’m not sure that’s quite right, is it?’ she said sceptically. ‘You see, we know he was taken to the Realm of Air.’
There was a slight pause. ‘Indeed.’
Taggie gave the Great Gateway a sharp stare, knowing just how tricky it could be. ‘Indeed, “yes”? Or indeed, “that’s interesting”?’
‘It is interesting that you believe that.’
‘Really? You see here’s the thing: if he was taken from the Fourth Realm, it had to be through a Great Gateway.’ Her jaw muscles tightened. ‘Isn’t that right?’
‘Undoubtedly.’
‘Here’s something else we found out: not every Great Gateway at Rothgarnal was destroyed at the time the truce was called. How many were left? And did one of them open into the Realm of Air?’
‘Two of us survived the battle, Harrajan and Forilux; though they perished soon afterwards. Forilux opened to the Realm of Air.’
Taggie gave Sophie a knowing look. ‘I see. And was Mirlyn’s Gate taken through Forilux? Don’t tell me a Great Gateway wouldn’t know if Mirlyn passed through.’
The air blowing down the brick tunnel produced a sudden gust. ‘You are correct. Mirlyn’s Gate was taken through Forilux.’
Sophie stomped her foot. ‘And you never told anybody?’ she stormed. ‘Folk have been searching for a thousand years!’
‘There are aspects of Rothgarnal that your new Karrak friend has still to reveal to you,’ the voice of Arasath said.
‘Such as?’ Taggie asked, suddenly uncertain. She had come to believe Lord Colgath was genuine, and that he’d been at Rothgarnal. If there was anything else to tell, he would have done so. Wouldn’t he?
‘In the days before the battle, the Karrak people crafted a terrible weapon, the Trakal. It had but one purpose: to destroy Great Gateways. That is how all those of us at Rothgarnal perished.’
‘I didn’t know about that,’ Taggie said, refusing to be distracted. ‘But why have you never told anyone where Mirlyn’s Gate was taken?’
‘As I believe you have already worked out, the Grand Lord destroyed Forilux from the other side,’ Arasath said. ‘So the Trakal was with him in the Realm of Air.’
‘Ah,’ Taggie murmured. ‘I think I get it now. So Mirlyn’s Gate is definitely somewhere in the Realm of Air,’ she said with rising excitement.
‘And so is the Trakal,’ Sophie concluded.
‘Precisely,’ Arasath said. ‘The one thing which can kill us of the Fellowship.’
‘So whoever finds Mirlyn’s Gate also finds the Trakal?’
‘That is correct, Queen of Dreams,’ Arasath said.
Taggie regarded the iron-bound doorway coldly, feeling she was being judged. ‘I, the Queen of Dreams, give my heart’s pledge to you, Arasath, that if we find Mirlyn’s Gate I will bring the Trakal to you.’
‘Thank you, Queen of Dreams. We of the Fellowship acknowledge your honour. None of us will stand in your way.’
A gust of warm air blew against Taggie, stirring her hair. ‘You mean you were going to?’ she asked suspiciously. Perhaps that explained why no expedition had ever succeeded in finding Mirlyn’s Gate. Without the Great Gateways helping, such an endeavour would be fruitless.
The Great Gateway Arasath remained silent.
‘If they went into the Realm of Air, they were supposedly going to sail into the sun,’ Sophie said impatiently. ‘Though I don’t think that’s actually possible.’
‘Mirlyn has not diminished,’ Arasath said. ‘We of the Fellowship are certain of that.’
Taggie drew down a breath. She’d come here to confront Arasath, but now she felt a rush of confidence about her quest she’d never expected. ‘Forgive my lack of history,’ she said. ‘But where did Forilux open in the Realm of Air?’
‘The Isle of Banmula,’ Arasath said.
‘I’ve heard of it,’ Sophie claimed. ‘The old capital isle.’
‘Then that’s where we’ll start.’
Again a gust of air swept along the tunnel. ‘It is a cold,
cold trail you follow, Queen of Dreams.’
‘But now we know where it begins,’ Taggie countered. ‘That’s one big advantage we have over everyone else who has looked in the last thousand years.’
Taggie and Sophie landed together on the top of Queen Layawhan’s tower, and Taggie cancelled the shapeshift spell, transforming back to her real self. She couldn’t believe how hungry she was after all that flying.
‘Who’s that?’ Sophie asked, leaning over the thick parapet.
Taggie risked a quick look. Now that she had abandoned her eagle form, she felt a sensation of vertigo at being so high. A small procession of carriages was driving along the greenway towards the palace. ‘Isn’t that the pendant of the Second Realm?’ she murmured.
‘The War Emperor has come to you,’ Sophie said in excitement. ‘Captain Feandez succeeded!’
‘I’m not so sure,’ Taggie retorted dubiously.
Sophie leaped up to stand on the edge of the parapet. ‘Race you to the bottom,’ she said with a gleam in her eye, and dived off.
Taggie’s heart did a flip as her friend plummeted down. Sophie’s shimmering red contrail stretched out behind her. ‘No way,’ Taggie grunted, and opened the door to the spiral stairs that wound down the tower. There were an awful lot of them.
Taggie was seriously out of breath when she finally emerged into the hexagonal library annexe through a door disguised as bookshelves. The first person she saw was Queen Danise, a stately woman, who was embracing her son. Prince Lantic looked half embarrassed, half overjoyed, at his mother’s affections. Then Taggie grinned in relief. Standing behind the Queen was Mr Anatole, an old Shadarain whose skin was a rich shade of terracotta. He disentangled himself from Jemima’s hug and swished his formal robes aside to give her a formal bow. ‘Majesty,’ he said with a note of pride. Mr Anatole was Taggie’s equerry, and provided advice she valued the most.
Taggie acknowledged him with a smile and a not-terribly-regal wave of her hand. She sat down heavily in a chair at the head of the table which was now covered with even more parchments and ledgers.