by T P Sheehan
Catanya threw a throwing knife at the mysterious man. He lifted a hand and whispered something, creating more of the black mist, dissolving the knife before it struck him. Magnus drew the remaining knife from his gauntlet and threw it at Delvion, but the sorcerer was quick to protect his master—disintegrating the knife with another stream of black matter.
“Curse this dark magic!” Ganister swore, and led the charge.
Out of the corner of his eye Magnus could see a blur of priests locked in battle. It was obvious now that there was division within the priesthood. Who then, are the outcasts? The fact that those against him rode dragons did little for Magnus’s confidence.
Delvion drew his sword and Crugion followed suit. Magnus and Ganister came at Delvion who dealt blows as ferocious as Briet but with more precision.
Catanya took her lance to the sorcerer and Bonstaph took his sword to Crugion. Magnus had nothing to hide now and he allowed his sword to ignite into flames as he attacked Delvion with everything he could muster. But he was concerned for Catanya’s safety. Lucas or not, he had no idea what the sorcerer was capable of. Ganister was with him and dealt blow after blow at the Quag King, shouting profanities as he did. Delvion was clearly skilled in the art of combat, fending off the two-man attack and still managing to strike back.
To Magnus’s left, Catanya took a heavy fall at the hand of the sorcerer. Magnus broke away from Delvion to support her. The hooded man drew a sword and parried Magnus’s first strike. Their swords locked together, pushing against one another. Magnus glanced at the sorcerer’s sword—it was Lucas’s.
Magnus had no doubt—It is Lucas. “Lucas!” Magnus could just make out his eyes beneath his hood. “Lucas… it’s me!” Lucas paused for a moment then pushed hard against Magnus sending him stumbling back. He pulled his hood back from his head, raising his sword to attack again, his dead eyes looking from Magnus to Catanya. Magnus lowered his own sword and stepped toward his friend with a hand raised in friendship.
“Lucas…”
“Magnus…” a weak thought came to him. Other thoughts followed, but were silenced immediately when Catanya threw a piece of burning rubble in Lucas’s face, making him reel away. Then Magnus heard a terrible scream.
He turned to see Delvion’s attention was on his son, who had fallen to his knees. Crugion’s right arm hung limp and bloodied and all but severed at the shoulder. Bonstaph was inches away from taking Crugion’s life. Delvion roared with anger and came at Bonstaph—but he was too late. Bonstaph swung his blade and severed Crugion’s head.
Delvion paused in shock, watching as his son’s head rolled from his shoulders and onto the ground. Taking advantage of the moment, Ganister moved to strike Delvion when a dark shadow suddenly shifted behind him then across to his front. Ganister arched back and fell to his knees. Magnus could see a sword had slashed him deep across his back. Lucas pulled his fleu-steel sword from Ganister’s chest. Blood dripped from the blade. Ganister fell forward, landing hard on the stone ground.
Magnus looked about as if trying to find reason amid the insanity of what he had just seen. Delvion was running toward the brawling dragons and wyverns and disappeared into the throng of dust and mayhem. Lucas had dropped his sword and was right behind him.
With no immediate threat of foe, Magnus and Bonstaph fell to Ganister’s side and turned him about, onto his back.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” Ganister mumbled.
“We must help him to his feet!” Magnus looked to his father.
Bonstaph shook his head, looking Magnus in the eyes. He pointed to the ground beneath Ganister where a pool of his blood was draining quickly.
“Is it as bad as all that?” Ganister laughed, choking on blood.
“It was your job to kill Delvion, you old fool,” Bonstaph feigned a smile.
“Apologies… next time,” Ganister whispered.
“Never mind. I’m an older fool than you,” Bonstaph held his old friend’s hand.
Magnus put Lucas out if his mind for a moment and thought of Sarah. “Ganister, Sarah is well and safe. She has been with me these past six months and now has her freedom.”
Ganister sighed a deep, comforting sigh. “Thank you Magnus, you bring me peace. Give her my love.” he coughed and searched for breath. “Find Lucas if you can. Tell him I love him too.”
“I will,” Magnus said, his heart breaking.
Bonstaph took Magnus’s hand and placed it over Ganister’s, then embraced them both with a firm grip. Magnus felt Catanya’s hand rest on his shoulder. Together, they whispered their final farewells to Ganister.
Through the dust and smoke, Delvion emerged on the back of his large wyvern and took flight, spiralling upwards over the northern wall and beyond the Black Cliffs of Ba’rrat.
His sorcerer sat behind him.
FÄRGD
At the foot of the Romgnian Mountains, five miles south of the Dormiul Path, Färgd extended his forelegs out in front of him, lowering his belly to the ground. He stretched and stretched, splaying his claws and stretched some more until he felt his shoulder joints pop. Satisfied, he looked out at the rising sun beyond the Neverseas.
He was not, however, satisfied about the sleepless nights of late. At first Färgd attributed it to the tough, sinewy sheep he had eaten a while back that had not agreed with him. But no, it was not that. There was something else.
It was around the time I met the young priest… Catanya...
He recalled how he had met Catanya at the base of the Dormiul Path and carried her along the coast to the shores before Brindle. He remembered how she had spotted the approaching pair of wyverns before he had. Impressive… Färgd had thought of her much since that rainy night. Her mind was troubled and Färgd hoped she had been able to find the resolution she was seeking. But as much as she appeared in his thoughts, his concerns were not just about her. It really started two weeks later when he spotted a second priest-girl taking the same path on foot toward Brindle.
Demi… the sour-dour looking one. Never have I seen her smile. And never has a priest made this journey on foot… without my assistance... Why is that so?
Färgd had offered Demi a ride to Brindle and inquired as to the purpose of her journey, for he was not informed of it. She was quick to dismiss him.
There was malice in Demi’s heart. Her journey was born of ill will and would lead to suffering. I could feel it in my bones.
Yes—it was this that had caused Färgd his sleepless nights. But this morning there was something more. He woke to a red sunrise to the east. Such crimson hue warns of a disturbance to the west. A warning that comes in two forms. The second upon an unseasonal wind this morning—a wind that carries the smell of blood. And it was not the blood he liked to smell on an empty stomach—it was the blood of man, the blood of wyvern and…
Dragon blood…
To the west there is malice at play…
He sat up on his hind legs and growled from deep within his chest.
Färgd peered over the sparkly blue sea and watched as a school of dolphins danced through a peeling wave before it broke upon the shore. The dragon cursed them, for he knew dolphins were too salty for his palate and besides, he would now have to forego his breakfast and travel to Ba’rrat.
Perhaps there I will find means to resolve the issues that plague my sleep.
SEPARATE WAYS
The clash of beasts in Ba’rrat’s arena had spread to the skies, where wyverns and dragons attacked one another with tooth, talon, and brute force.
“Curse Delvion and his sorcerer. I will kill them if it be the last thing I ever do.” Bonstaph paced about, waving his Quag blade to and fro.
“Father,” Magnus had found Lucas’s sword resting on the ground, its scabbard beside it. He handed it to Bonstaph, who fell silent, as he looked the blade over.
“There were two of such blades.”
“I know where the other is,” Magnus said. He did not know how to tell his father.
�
��This blade was forged of love. Now it slayed its forger?” Bonstaph looked hesitantly at Magnus. “Tell me the wielder were not its intended owner.” Magnus’s silence spoke truth.
“That sorcerer—was Lucas?”
“Aye.”
“These past months, locked in Delvion’s dungeon… what atrocities did I miss that led to this?”
Austagia interrupted them. “This is far from over,” he explained in haste. “The elders of our order have sanctioned Magnus’s death.”
Austagia’s words were like a fog. Nothing surprised Magnus at this point, but then nothing seemed real, either. Forgetting Ganister for a moment, Magnus let Austagia’s words sink in. The priests want me dead… In the back of his mind Magnus feared as much, but he would never have believed it without hearing it. Bonstaph stepped over to Austagia and stood such that their noses almost touched.
“They would approve the murder of my son?” he shouted. His knuckles were white from gripping his sword. “One of their own blood? My son?”
Austagia spoke calmly to Bonstaph. “Your son is the chosen one. He is the Electus. The Order wishes to see one of our own assume such power.”
“And what would you wish for, Austagia?” Bonstaph continue to shout, oblivious to the mounting threat around them. Although the guards had fled the arena, war cries could be heard from beyond the gates, suggesting a fortification of the Quag army. Magnus knew it was only a matter of time before they plucked up the courage to make a unified attack.
“Father…” Magnus appealed for his attention. But Bonstaph was having none of it.
“What about you priestess? What would you have happen to Magnus?” He looked to Jael, as did Magnus. Jael said nothing. Austagia spoke for her.
“Jael, as with Catanya and myself, believe Magnus is the rightful Electus.”
After a moment’s consideration, Bonstaph gave a nod and took a breath. He walked to Magnus, looking briefly at Catanya—an expression of recognition on his face for the first time. He gazed into his son’s eyes. “Electus…” Bonstaph looked to Catanya again. “Look at you two. What a pair you’ve turned out to be.” Magnus looked at Catanya who raised an eyebrow.
“It’s time we leave,” Austagia said.
Bonstaph cleared his throat. “Aside from the main gates, does anyone know of a way out of here?”
“Follow me,” Magnus said. There was no way to fix the wrongs in the arena now. He made a dash toward the slave’s entrance to the armoury with his father, Catanya, Austagia and Jael behind him. From here, he led the way back through the underground tunnels he had grown to know so well. “No one will think we are going this way,” he insisted. Together, they made their way through the dark corridors and down the steep stairways.
They reached the dungeons where Carlo and two of his guards had stowed themselves away, no doubt to avoid the chaos above ground. Carlo looked terrified when he saw Magnus and the company he kept.
“You…” Carlo squinted. “You are the Electus. All this time you’ve hidden away here… and with such power at your fingertips. Why?”
Magnus thought of Sarah. “You know why, Carlo.” He seethed with anger but wanted no more blood spilled than necessary. “Get into the cage—now,” he demanded.
Carlo nodded. He and his two guards moved into cage six and Catanya locked it with the guard’s key, stashing the key into her suit, while Magnus and the others worked to free the rest of Carlo’s slaves from cages one through five. There were ten freed slaves in total. Magnus cursed that he was only a day away from being able to free Brutus.
“This way.” Catanya took the lead.
The freed slaves joined them and, in single file, they wound their way through the endless corridors. They encountered not a single guard. Even this deep beneath the surface, the repeated boom of a city falling under siege resonated through the walls of Ba’rrat’s underworld. Magnus figured any remaining guards had long fled.
Magnus was right behind Catanya. Close behind him was Jael. Magnus could feel her brushing close to him. They reached a choke point along a corridor where some of the wall had partially collapsed inward. Catanya climbed up and squeezed her way through the rubble. Magnus was about to follow when he felt a hand rest gently on his shoulder. He turned—it was Jael. He stopped and looked at her.
“You have much to learn about your new powers, Magnus.” Jael shared her thoughts. “Your abilities go far beyond what you already know. Do not be hasty about going into battle. Give yourself time to heed counsel and learn more about whom you have become.”
Jael’s touch seemed to fill him with a form of lightness that permeated through his body. Magnus felt elated by her touch. He could feel the heat of his own energy course through his body, toward Jael’s arm. Her eyes widened and she took a deep breath. Her shared thoughts suggested she too felt the same elation.
“Are you coming?” Catanya’s voice called from the other side of the rubble. Jael removed her hand from Magnus, but not before looking him over with sultry eyes. She moved ahead of Magnus and moved through the narrow gap in the fallen wall.
“Ba’rrat will be brought to ruin this day,” Austagia’s voice droned off the close walls. Magnus snapped back to reality and looked at the priest. He wondered why the battle was ensuing if the priests were there to kill him, rather than wage war with the Quag.
They continued on, the staircases now taking them gradually back to the surface. “We’re nearly there,” Catanya said, turning a final corner.
Magnus could see sunshine paving the way up a final stairwell leading to the outside world. At the top, Catanya pushed open a gate. The ten freed slaves gave thanks and bid farewell to Magnus before fleeing across the courtyard beyond.
Catanya closed the gate again with Magnus and the others still on the stairway. She stood her ground and confronted Austagia.
“What are we to do now? Who are we to trust?”
“You are to trust no-one,” Austagia said.
“What of the dragons? Are they trying to kill me also?” Magnus wanted to know where he stood before stepping out into the battle zone.
“They know there is a chosen one and believe they are here to find you, but not of the agenda to kill you. If they learn of that, they will no longer have trust in the priesthood.”
“They will no longer have trust in mankind,” Jael added. Magnus looked to his father to gauge his reaction to all of this.
“She is right,” Bonstaph said. “The Irucantî was formed to maintain an alliance between The Fire Realm and the Couldradt dragons. This deception could lead to a war far greater than anything the Quag have sanctioned.”
“Your presence here gave cause for a war to reignite,” Austagia explained. “The dragon’s fury has been woken. They will not stop so long as the Quagmen and their beasts fight back. They will destroy Ba’rrat.” Austagia addressed Magnus directly. “This is not the time nor place to reveal yourself.”
“Very well,” Magnus said. “The battle will run its course and we must leave.”
Catanya had more questions for Austagia. “Why did you not come to meet me in Brindle?”
“The Romghold went into lockdown after you disappeared. Being your uncle, they suspected me and I was being watched at all times.”
“How did Demi track me down?”
Jael spoke up, “Demi suspected you had fled and took it upon herself to find you. By the time I’d learned she had tracked you down the Dormiul Path, I could do nothing to stop her.”
“It was three weeks before she arrived,” Catanya said.
“It was only a week ago she left,” Jael added. “Do you know what happened to her?”
“I killed her.” Catanya raised her eyebrows, returning her gaze to Austagia.
With a hint of a smile, Austagia looked out to the open sky. “What we need now are three or four dragons.”
Everyone was looking at Austagia for an explanation.
“To fly us out of here,” he added.
“I’m ha
ppy to walk,” Magnus said. He moved to Catanya’s side and looked out across the courtyard before him. It was bedlam. The city’s residents fled in all directions, while guards struggled to restore order. Quag warriors regrouped, ready for an offensive. Delvion, however, was nowhere to be seen.
Magnus looked at his father. There was a burning question he had to ask him and he sensed his father knew what it was. “Magnus, about your mother,” Bonstaph spoke gently with a look of concern on his face.
“Is she alive?” Magnus desperately wanted to know.
“Aye, I believe she is. For what it’s worth—it is what my heart tells me.”
“What happened that night?”
“There was nothing we could do. We were captured on the ride out to Overpell.” Bonstaph shook his head sadly. “They brought us back to the homestead and burned it before our eyes. At first we feared they would catch you and then feared you would die in the fire.”
“You know then it was Ganister who saved me.”
“Aye. He was captured soon after,” Bonstaph chuckled. “But not before he killed half a dozen Quagmen. He told us you were safe, thank the Gods.”
“And Mother?”
“For years I had begged your mother to take you back to the Rhyderlands—to her people’s lands—where you’d be safe. She was stubborn. She would not leave my side.”
“I wouldn’t have left either,” Magnus added.
“I know. But on the second night in that prison carriage, I begged of her again. We had stood together but did not need to die together. Not so long as our son were still alive.” Tears in his eyes, he placed a hand on Magnus’s shoulder.
“And so in the night, we said our farewells and she slipped away,” Bonstaph sighed. “No prison could hold a woman of the Ice Realm… not my Alavia… not your mother. Ganister and I made enough of a scene to distract the guards.”
Bonstaph smiled for a moment, then turned serious once again. “She went looking for you, Magnus. Having not found you, I do not know…. Perhaps she went back to her people for help.”