Quest for the Sun by V M Jones

fine spray of droplets landed on Blue-bum’s fur. He twitched and jerked as if he’d been burned, his monkey mouth stretching into a mockery of a grin. He gave a last chittering shriek; then his back arched and he fell backwards, his furry head connecting with the flagstones with a crack. His body jack-knifed. Beside me I heard Kenta give a choking sob, and I put out one arm and hugged her close. ‘Don’t watch,’ I muttered … but I couldn’t take my eyes away.
    For a second I thought the liquid must be acid, or some kind of poison; that Karazeel had decided to kill Blue-bum. But as the tiny body twisted and writhed, I realised what was happening. I saw the limbs straightening, elongating … the scraggy fur melting away. The face flattening, the noselengthening, the tail sucking itself back into the body.
    A pool of purple rippled out around the huddled shape on the floor like blood; it gave a last convulsive twitch and a rattling cry. There was a long silence. Slowly the prone figure levered itself up onto its elbows, moving as stiffly as an old, old man. His back was to us, and at first all I could see was a cloak and a tangle of hair. In a series of arthritic lurches, the figure struggled to its feet. Turned and hobbled towards us, cackling and cracking its knuckles.
    Not Weevil.
    Evor.

The magic of destruction
    It wasn’t possible … yet it explained everything. Blue-bum hadn’t looked different because he’d been tortured; he’d looked different because he was different. He had been Evor all along — ever since we found him half-dead at the edge of Chattering Wood. And he had been half-dead … hadn’t he? It had needed the healing potion to bring him back from the brink of death … hadn’t it? I remembered the dried blood we’d sponged from his matted fur, the cuts and lacerations we’d assumed the potion had healed, but never actually saw …
    Evor peered up at me from his nest of grizzled hair. ‘Well?’ he croaked. ‘Worked it out yet? A simple matter of having you followed from Arakesh; then a sip of water from Chattering Stream, a little glonk-blood here and there … a scatter of kindling to lead you to the bait. A little acting … and you children did the rest, in your pathetic eagerness to believe the best of everything.’ He leered at Kenta. ‘Thank you for the cuddles, little girl. I almost grew to like them.’
    He hobbled round to face me again, his eyes glittering. ‘Theonly one I feared might guess the truth was you … Prince Zephyr. ’
    There was a long beat of silence. Karazeel advanced on the cage, his eyes fixed on me so hungrily I felt they were sucking at my soul. ‘So … that which was prophesised has come to pass. But this is where the legend ends. There will be no triumphant entry into Arakesh for you, nephew. Like the winged horses of Karazan, you will soon be nothing but ash and dust, a forgotten name breathed on the dying wind. But I am one of the mighty, the lords of destiny who shape the future and bend it to their will. Nothing can hinder my rise to greatness.’
    In one stride he was beside the massive machine; grabbed a lever and pulled. An electronic humming filled the room. The stars in the vast window began to rotate, faster and still faster, spinning into a vortex of whirling light. Karazeel wheeled to face us, face blazing and demented. ‘You see? I have harnessed the power of skyfire. Night and day are at my command. Soon the very galaxies will be in my control; my forces are as legion as the stars.’
    He crossed to the golden lectern and raised both hands above it. There was something on its sloping surface … something flat with raised buttons that glittered like jewels. A keyboard … and the massive box must be a computer, though I was betting most of it was show — the guts would be the microcomputer we’d left behind in