Mark Chadbourn - The Burning Man

‘I feel strange here, too,’ Sophie said. ‘Almost like coming home.’

Mallory was distracted by the odd shadows that clustered around trees, the unnatural way the grass moved when there wasn’t a breeze. ‘This place creeps me out. I feel as if someone’s watching us all the time. Oi!’ he called to Jerzy. ‘Stop dancing like a loon. Are you sure we’re going the right way?’

‘Oh, yes. I could never forget the way to the Court of the Soaring Spirit.’ The Mocker grinned. ‘The home of my former mistress. For so long a prison. But now … sanctuary! We need a safe place in these troubled times.’

At the foot of the hill on which the ruined watchtower stood, they passed a small farmstead, the long, low building half-set into the hillside. A small man with berry-brown skin and dark, furtive eyes was tending the vegetable patch beside the house. When he saw them coming, he bolted inside, slamming the door and all the shutters.

‘Brigid says everyone round here is scared,’ Caitlin said in her little-girl voice. ‘Now I’m scared, too.’

From a distance, the Court of the Soaring Spirit looked like a block of obsidian beneath the night sky. Against the foothills of the rising mountains, its monolithic bulk gave it an unpleasant gravity that set their teeth on edge. Fires blazed along the black walls that soared hundreds of feet above their heads, and occasional bursts of flame through the slit windows that dotted the walls suggested that a mighty foundry thundered within.

‘Is this it?’ Mallory said. ‘Not what you’d call welcoming.’

Jerzy was filled with uncertainty, but gave a quick nod.

Fumes filled the air as they made their way to the gargantuan front gates. Everything was on a scale that made the individual feel insignificant.

The gates were opened by furtive guards in silver and ivory armour. None of them would engage Mallory and the others directly but a messenger was quickly despatched.

‘They look very afraid, too,’ Jerzy whispered to Mallory. ‘The Army of the Ten Billion Spiders must have brought the threat right to the gates of the court.’

Within minutes Evgen, the captain of the guard, arrived, his hawk-helmet giving his face a raptor quality. ‘The Mocker,’ he said with dark amusement. ‘We did not expect to see you here again.’ He cast his cold eyes over Mallory, Sophie and Caitlin, opened his mouth to speak and then thought better of it. ‘I am sure our queen will make you most welcome.’

‘I’ve been to a city just like this before,’ Sophie said to Mallory as they followed Evgen through the gates. ‘I’m starting to remember. Except … it didn’t look like this. That makes no sense, I know.’

The oppressive atmosphere grew more intense once they had left the outside world behind. Cobbled streets barely wide enough for two people to walk abreast wound steeply upwards between overhanging buildings that hid all but the slightest sliver of night sky. Constant twists and turns made it impossible to see far ahead or behind. Sewage ran in the gutters from emptied chamber-pots and the stench was only kept at bay by the greasy smoke of the flickering lanterns that barely illuminated their way.

The Palace of Glorious Light was in the centre of the sprawling city. It was a fortress, not a palace, and the name was rendered even more ironic by the roaring cauldrons of fire that lined the courtyard and were spaced out along the ramparts. They gave off thick, choking smoke and their scarlet flames added a hellish tint to the shining black walls.

Evgen led them into the palace and up numerous flights of claustrophobic stairs and along winding corridors. Eventually they came to a gloomy throne-room. It was unbearably hot, and filled with the constant hissing and crackling of the numerous braziers spaced around it.

From an antechamber emerged a beautiful, golden-skinned woman in a dress of such pure white that she glowed like a spectre.

Jerzy bowed. ‘My queen.’

‘You are always welcome here, faithful servant,’ she replied in a gentle voice before turning to Mallory, Sophie and Caitlin. ‘I am Niamh, queen of the Court of the Soaring Spirit. I bid you welcome.’ She grew puzzled as she looked them up and down. ‘You are Brother and Sisters of Dragons?’

Mallory was entranced. Sophie gave him an unnecessarily hard pinch. ‘Ah … yes,’ he stuttered. ‘We … uh-’

‘Your majesty, we are here to seek your help,’ Sophie interjected forcefully. ‘We’re looking for a powerful weapon-’

‘-that will help us defeat the Devourer of All Things,’ Jerzy said. ‘The object of power is known as the Extinction Shears.’

‘I know of this thing,’ Niamh said, ‘but the Shears have been missing since they were encountered by my good friend Church, your Brother.’

‘The Extinction Shears are held in the Market of Wishful Spirit. Find the market, you find the Shears.’ Mallory had regained his composure.

‘Then I will give you all the help you need to find the travelling market. Now tell me of Church,’ she said brightly. ‘Is he well?’

‘He would have come with us, but he’s needed back in our world,’ Sophie replied. ‘He is well. But it’s a hard fight.’

Niamh nodded, and gave a smile shadowed by a fleeting sadness.

Chairs were brought and Niamh motioned for them to sit. She despatched Evgen to arrange for food to be brought from the kitchens.

‘These are dark times in the Far Lands. War draws ever closer.’ Niamh sat on a carved wooden throne between two braziers, oblivious to the heat. ‘On the edge of this realm, the fortress of the Army of the Ten Billion Spiders sits brooding. Bigger than this court. Bigger than the twenty Great Courts. Its forces have swelled to an incalculable number. Lament Brood. Redcaps. Gehennis. The foulest things known to Existence. They march far and wide, leaving despair in their wake. Soon they will be upon us, and then …’ She waved the thought away. ‘It is not the numbers. It is the great powers they control. And in the sky above the fortress something is beginning to appear.’

‘They have other gods working with them,’ Mallory said. ‘Janus. Loki. Apollo-’

‘They may call themselves gods …’ Once again she caught herself. ‘Old habits die hard. The truth? The Golden Ones are driven back at every turn. Our power and influence wane. Sometimes, in my darker moments, I wonder if our time has passed.’

Caitlin sat with her legs tucked under her and her arms wrapped tightly around her. ‘I’m still scared,’ she said. ‘Where’s the Morrigan?’

‘Don’t worry about her,’ Mallory said to Niamh. ‘She’s not … well.’

‘The Morrigan helped me once.’ Caitlin rocked in her chair. ‘I need her to help me again.’

‘The Morrigan is one of my dark sisters,’ Niamh said. ‘She has great power. She deals in blood and death.’

‘And birth,’ Caitlin added. ‘And sex. New life.’

‘She would be a great boon to us in the struggle ahead, but she has not been seen for a long time.’ Niamh sighed. ‘And she is not the only one. Over many generations, Church rescued Brothers and Sisters of Dragons from certain death and brought them here for sanctuary. One night they left as one, their mission unknown. They have not been seen since.’

‘We were counting on them to help us,’ Mallory said.

‘There is something you should see.’ Niamh whispered to an aide who hurried out of the throne-room, returning a moment later with a large case covered by a velvet cloth. He placed it on a table in front of Niamh and retreated.

Niamh hesitated, then plucked the cloth aside, uncovering a glass case edged with gold. Inside was a spider. Once revealed, it threw itself furiously at the glass, attempting to break free.