real. The wind was brisk on his skin, and the noise of a discontented crowd surrounded them, placed high on a stage as they were.
He knew that he knew her, but somehow her face was both strangely unknown yet entirely familiar. She was lily white of skin, and utterly beautiful, but it was not her appearance that he remembered well-it was the spirit he could feel inside her.
She was almost a part of him, having accompanied him across time and through so many lives,yet it seemed they were seldom long together. They were always desperately searching for each other, whether they knew it or not, and only on rare occasionsdid they actually reach one another and realise what had been missing all along. In those precious moments, they had lifetimes of separation to atone for.
He looked down and found that their fingers were interlocked, but the hand that poked out from the sleeve of his ruffled shirt was as black as coal.
They were standing on a wooden platform, with ropes slung around their necks.
‘I love you,’ he told her. ‘I have always loved you.’
She smiled back at him and he knew what she would say even before she had said it. ‘I will always love you, too.’ Her voice was pure and wonderful and he longed to hear more of it, yet he knew he would have to wait.
Neither of them was afraid because,in reality, death was nothing to fear. She was his soul-mate, his eternal companion and they were destined to be together. Her name was-
Before he could recall, there was a shout from below in a strange foreign tongue; a moment of falling; and a sudden jolting stop.
Samuel gasped and awoke. He smacked his dry lips and endeavoured to look about his surroundings. It was still black, but his senses told him he was lying face up upon the floor.
‘What does it mean?’ he whispered to himself. He crept onto his hands and feet, and lapped water from the base of the wall. The stump on his arm was dry now; hard and crusted. He sat back down in the middle of the room, folded his arms and crossed his legs, before readying himself once more to dive back into his dreams.
He was alive and he was far from finished.
CHAPTER NINE
The Thing Born to the Mountain
It seemed that another dream had begun, but this time Samuel found himself looking down at a thin and dishevelled body-a rake of a thing, draped in rags, mutilated and left lying as if at the bottom of a well. Up the shaft he flew, squeezing through the cracks in the lid of that funnel and into a network of tunnels. He raced alongeach passage, unheeding of form or limitations. His thoughts dictated his direction and he moved wherever he wished. He passed several guards as they marched warily along with their torches, but they wereobliviousto his presence. He passed through them without even causing a flicker of their flames. Up he flew-up and out of the mountain and into the palace of the Desert Queen.
Along the halls he went, carefree and exuberant at his new existence. He was not concerned if this was a dream or not, for he was out of his cell and free-in all meanings of the word. Zooming along, he felt a familiar presence and he slowed his pace, passing through a doorway to find the Emperor sitting glumly on the end of his bed. The man had his hands clasped and was rolling his thumbs around each other, deep in thought. He was the Emperor in Sir Ferse, but there was someone else in there as well-many ‘someones’. Strange energies surrounded the man, layered about him like the skins of an onion-lives upon lives-and a growing power was gathering about him. Samuel was tempted to delve into the man’s mind for,even now,he could almost hear his troubled thoughts aloud, but entering into such a tumultuous place would be a treacherous task. The Emperor was no magician, but he was certainly something-something complicated and ancient. Instead, he left the man with his worries and continuedalongthe floor.
The Koian woman was there, lying on her bed,with Shara and several Paatin ladies about her. She had a wet rag across her brow and was cooling herself with a decorated fan, for the air must have been hot and stifling, although he could not feel it. A bump rose like a watermelon atop her belly,which wascovered in the thin sheets.
‘It won’t be long,’ old Shara said to another reassuringly, speaking Paatin. ‘The babe and mother seem to be doing well.’
‘Alahativa has ordered us to take every precaution. Every healer must be ready, every complication prepared against.’
‘The baby must not die,’ said a third, younger one. ‘No matter the fate of the mother, we must save the child.’
Shara looked at the expectant mother with concern. ‘I am thankful she cannot understand our words. I would not like any mother to hear such things. What is so special about this babe?’ she asked.
‘It is an impossible child, born from a witch and a wizard.’
‘Impossible!’ another woman exclaimed, recoiling. ‘Those that use magic are barren. Even if they were not incapable, no such child should be allowed. Why would Alahativa permit such a thing?’
‘That is not for us to question!’ declared the youngest,and the oldest bit her lip.
‘She is a witch?’ Shara wondered, looking to the ignorant Koian woman.
‘So we are told. The poor thing. She looks so fragile. She knows nothing of the ways of this world.’
‘Then pray she does not survive this birth. Who knows what Alahativa would do to her if she is only interested in the child? The father was thrown to his death in the catacombs, so I heard. Left to rot in the darkness with the ghosts and the ghouls.’
‘This child must be a result of our fortune. Ajaspah is here. The Star of Osirah is high. Alahativa is blessing us once again. Even the western heathens have sent their greatest magician to bear witness. I’ve seen him-a bearded one with hair like snow.’
It was as the women had said, for he could feel the old Grand Master’s presence in the Queen’s hall and up he went through the floors without a pause. Into the Queen’s hall he flew, past the ranks of servants and armed,black-skinned desert-men, to where Alahativa and the Grand Master sat opposite each other, sipping from ceramic chalices,atthe ornate table erected upon her dais. Samuel remembered the thing well, for it was the same accursed table that contained a hidden blade; the same maniacal device that had severed his arm with one jolting slice. It astounded him that the two were locked in conversation and not fierce combat, and he could not fathom why the Grand Master would be sitting and chatting with the vile witch in such a civil manner. Wanting to sate his curiosity, Samuel hovered nearer to the pair.
‘Your plan is nearly at its end, Magician,’ Alahativa was saying. ‘The child will be born this day.’
Anthem took a sip and scratched at his beard before responding. ‘It has been a trial for everyone, but the sacrifices we have all made now seem worthwhile. Thank goodness we are nearly at an end.’
‘Do you truly think he will be the king you have been seeking?’ the beautiful Queen asked him. Her ears and arms were adorned with matching golden circlets and her hair was tied up into an intricate twist, away from her shoulders. Her long, slender neck and upright posture made her appear all the more graceful and proud.
‘I can only hope so,’ the old man responded. ‘The world is falling to ruin and I hope this child can unite not only our nations, but the world itself. Every continent has fallen into chaos and the days have fallen into darkness.’
‘Ajaspah is here. The Star of Osirah will light our way. It may spell doom for Turia, but to my people it will only bring victory.’
Samuel turned his gaze outside, for his senses told him it should be night, but the city seemed bathed in a ghostly light. In his ethereal state, he could see beyond the stones and walls of the palace, and so he looked up towards the heavens, where a great blazing comet now covered the entire sky, obscuring the stars with its brilliance.
‘I don’t believe in such superstitions,’ Anthem told the seductive witch opposite him, ‘but the star you speak of is certainly a boon to us, at this, the time of the new king’s birth. It will be a symbol of his coming. The people
