Pyrgus felt a sudden chill. He'd never heard of a city like this anywhere in the Realm of Faerie and certainly not anywhere near his palace. That meant it had to be undiscovered, probably in some distant country on another continent, which would explain the unfamiliar vegetation. How far was he away from home? It might take him weeks, even months, to reach his father and warn him about what had been going on.
If he could get back at all…
Pyrgus had an optimistic nature, but, all the same, he knew he needed to be realistic. He'd been walking across countryside so barren it was almost a desert, confused by fumes and with absolutely no idea of where he was. He had food – of a sort – in his knapsack. With care, it might last him two or three days, but after that he'd have to hunt and so far he hadn't seen so much as a gruntrat in this desolate terrain, let alone anything edible.
More to the point, he hadn't seen water either and he had no water at all with him. He wouldn't last much more than a week without water. It was cool enough now with the sun near the horizon, but tomorrow at noon it could be leaching moisture from his body at a frightening rate.
He glanced towards the sun. It hung in the same place in the sky as if time itself had stopped.
Water had to be his first priority. He needed water to survive. Without it, he would never reach his father, never warn him, never find out who was behind the murder attempt, never – He cut off the train of thought and forced his mind on to the immediate problem. He might be able to squeeze some moisture from the curious plants, but that had to be a last resort since he'd no idea if they were poisonous. What he really needed was a stream or a pool or…
Or a well!
The ruined city must have had its water sources! The city planners might have built cisterns to collect rainwater, but there would be wells too – they were the only certain source of supply. Some, maybe even most, would probably have dried up by now. But there was a chance one or two might still hold water. All he had to do was find them.
He started down the slope towards the ruins. The thought occurred that he might be lucky enough to stumble on an inscription that would give him some clue to his whereabouts. Once he had water and knew where he was, he'd no doubt he could find his way home, however far away it was. Somehow.
Close up, the city was more impressive than it was at a distance. On several of the structures, the massive stones had been cut and slotted together like a jigsaw. There didn't seem to be any mortar between them, yet they were a perfect fit. He'd never seen anything like it before, although there were several enormous buildings in his father's realm, including the palace itself. He wondered how old these ruins really were – a thousand years? ten thousand years?
He wanted to search systematically, so he began at the surviving pylon gate and began slowly to follow the main thoroughfare that led to the central plaza.. There were two possible types of well. One would be enormous borings to ensure a water supply for the city as a whole. These would probably be located somewhere near the centre. But there would be another type as well. Some families, particularly the wealthy ones, would want their own water supply and would have sunk shafts near their homes, possibly even inside them. It was these shafts that were more likely to hold some water now, rather than the over-used municipal borings.
He walked slowly, alert for residential buildings. They weren't as easy to find as he'd thought. Thousands of people must have lived here once, but their homes would have been the smaller, less-well-constructed buildings – the first to fall to rubble. What was left now were segments of the massive city walls, portions of temples, ancient factories, observatories and the like. And in their ruined state, it was tricky enough to tell one type of building from another, especially when all you had to go on were a few flagstones or sections of enclosure walls.
But one area looked promising. The buildings there had all but disappeared, leaving no more than tumbled stones and traces of foundations. It was those foundation outlines that attracted Pyrgus, for they seemed to show small houses clumped together. There were one or two dark crevices that could repay exploration. Even more exciting, there were two cracked slabs that might – just might – be covering shafts.
He was clambering across some rubble to investigate when the demons seized him.
Pyrgus fought like a demon himself. He had no chance to reach the knife Mr Fogarty had given him, but he punched and kicked furiously. There was something about the creatures that sent him into a frenzy of revulsion. They were nearly naked so he could see their repulsive, chalk-white, hairless bodies and their spindly limbs. When they touched him, his skin crawled.
Individually, they were smaller than he was, but there were dozens of them and more swarming across the rubble to help. He had never seen so many in one place, never heard of so many appearing at one time. Even the most skilled Wizard of the Night could call up no more than three at once, not dozens. They chittered like insects and darted excitedly towards him, snatching at his clothing, then jumping back to avoid his flailing fists.
He knew enough not to look at their faces. Instead, he concentrated on kicking at their legs, which were brittle and fairly easily broken. The trouble was, the demons knew that just as well as he did and took care to keep well clear of his boots.
Something grabbed his head from behind and held it like a vice. Despite their size, demons were strong. He jerked and twisted, trying to break free, but the creature clung to him. Then more demon hands seized his head and in a moment he could no longer move it at all.
'Nooo!' Pyrgus wailed.
He stopped fighting to concentrate on what he knew was coming. He closed his eyes tight shut and tried to hit backwards at the demons holding his head. Then his arms were caught as well and he knew he was done for. Probing fingers crawled across his face to prise open his screwed eyes. He looked down at once, but the creatures anticipated the reaction and pulled back his head. He found himself looking into a demon face.
The huge, black eyes stared into his own.
'Be still,' a voice said in his mind.
The sensation was hideous, like slime-mould oozing through his brain. He felt the paralysis beginning in his limbs.
'Be still,' the demon voice repeated.
'Rented a tent,' Pyrgus murmured. 'Rented a tent. Rented a, rented a, rented a tent.' It was something Tithonus had taught him. Sometimes rhythmic gibberish could lock your mind enough to break free of a demon's spell. 'Rented a tent. Rented a tent. Rented a, rented a – '
'Your name?' the demon voice demanded in his mind.
Don't think the name! Whatever you do, don't think – Once a demon knew your name, its power over you increased. He'd never heard of anyone escaping demons once they knew his name. Don't think P – P -No, don't think it! Rented a tent. Rented a tent. Rented a – Don't think – He felt the name hovering on the edges of his mind, waiting to rush in, to float in, to creep in. – tent, a tent, a tent, a pent, a py- Don't think P-P-P-P… Don't think PYRGUS! Dammit, dammit, dammit! Well at least don't think Pyrgus Malvae. Oh, double dammit!
'Come with me, Pyrgus Malvae,' said the slime-mould in his mind.
The demon hands released his arms and head. The demon horde fell back so that the way was clear. The demon speaking in his mind drew thin lips over tiny, pointed teeth. It took Pyrgus a moment to realise it was smiling. The creature turned and walked away across the rubble.
Pyrgus followed like a lamb.