The War of the Pyromancer

by P D Ceanneir

  Telmar was dumbstruck for a few seconds. The only Blacksword he knew of was a five hundred year old prophecy about the forging of a sword of power.

  ‘I know of no Blacksword…’ he said shaking his head.

  He will come!

  ‘When?’ asked Telmar. Then added, ‘what do you mean by “he”?’

  He and the Sword that Rules are one, and he will come soon.

  Telmar began to pace backward and forward. Cronos stood perfectly still, watching him.

  ‘There are so many things I still do not understand,’ said Telmar. ‘Why me?’

  You were chosen.

  ‘By whom?’ He stopped pacing.

  ‘The My’thos,’ said Cronos simply, ‘they always have a reason, we never ask why.’

  Be silent! Snapped the Entity.

  Cronos bowed his head. ‘Forgive me, Master,’

  I am incapable of forgiveness, it said, you should know that.

  Cronos said no more. Telmar followed the exchange with interest. Then the Dark Entity spoke to him. Ask your question.

  Telmar stared at the thing hovering above the ground inside the stone circle. He had hundreds of questions to ask it, some were about the Grymwards and the Elemental War, but an image swam to the surface of his mind.

  ‘Tell me about the Door?’ he asked.

  The entity in the circle remained silent. A small gasp issued from Cronos’ mouth and Telmar turned to see the strange being staring at him in shock, the first sign of emotion he had seen from the strange being.

  How do you know about the Door? The entity asked.

  Telmar frowned, for all of this creature’s knowledge he found it curious that he would ask him such a question. Surely, a god should know everything.

  ‘I see it in my dreams. It is the herald of destruction, a portent of doom. Wherever it appears, death always follows in its wake. Am I correct?’

  Cronos shifted uneasily and Telmar had the impression that the entity was staring at him. Then it spoke, and it spoke to Cronos.

  Summon it, it said.

  ‘But Master…’ Cronos protested.

  Do it!

  Cronos flinched then stood straight and closed his eyes, he mumbled under his breath and Telmar felt a breeze wash over him. An alien wind, not generated by the passing islands, roared and caused his clothing to flap. He raised his hands to protect himself from the dust and the lashing debris of plants as they whipped by him. Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped.

  Telmar lowered his arms and looked to see that the Door now obscured his field of vision. His heart beat wildly and he stepped away from it.

  Is this the door of your dreams, Pyromancer? said the Dark Entity in a mocking tone.

  Telmar nodded slowly as he looked from the bluestone arch at the top and then downwards over the Skrol covered lintel, then to the foot of the door itself. ‘Yes it is. But what is it?’

  That which is contained within is but a dimension of madness, said the entity, what you will see beyond the door is but the fate of the world.

  The large brass knob in the centre of the Door squeaked as it turned. Telmar did not want to look, but found himself fixated on the opening of the Door. Telmar was sure he heard the hinges creaked, but that could have been his imagination. Certainly, what he saw beyond the threshold was not a figment of his mind.

  The space beyond the threshold reverberated with the sounds of screams, millions of them. Telmar covered his ears, but he was too late; they were already inside his head. The pain was excruciating and the visions beyond the open Door flooded into his wide bulging eyes.

  Then he heard the loudest scream of all. It drowned out all the others; it was disturbing in its animal anguish.

  He vaguely realised it was his own.

  4

  Aln-Tis 3038 YOA

  ‘So what was it that you saw?’ I asked Shanks as he closed the Black Ledger after reading what I had written so far. We were sitting at the large oak table in the older part of the palace kitchen. Shanks often came down here to eat and I found the warmth from the stoves strangely comforting. The smell of freshly baked bread saturated the air.

  ‘You saw as much as I did,’ answered Shanks. ‘What did you see?’

  ‘It’s not what I saw, but what I felt,’ I said, still shivering at the memory.

  Shanks raised his eyebrows questioningly, urging me to continue.

  I sighed. ‘It was like all of the anguish and despair of human suffering concentrated in one single moment as soon as the Door opened. But I’m still trying hard to believe that this Door actually exists, that it is not just some metaphor for your eventual madness.’

  Shanks nodded. He stared at the cover of the book before him. ‘I thought that too for a long time. Looking into the Door was the beginning for me, as if it had always been there, waiting for the right moments to reveal its contents. Nevertheless, the Nexus exists. So too does a less powerful version of the Earth Daemon.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘I found the answers in the Grymwards, although it was to take me years to extract any information from them; I found out that the Eldi knew about the Nexus.’ He looked up from the book and stared hard at me. His dark grey eyes narrowed as they always did when he was serious. ‘I also found out that they knew about the Door.’

  5

  Sonora

  2972 YOA

  Telmar’s eyes fluttered open.

  Light from the balcony window tinged a dark orange, suggesting that it was early evening. Warm air blew through the open window and caused the silk drapes to shift with the passing current.

  He was in the countess’s bedroom lying in her bed, alone and naked, with no memory of how he got there. His mouth was dry and his head throbbed. He tried to sit up and instantly regretted moving, his body tensed in agony and he looked under the covers to see bruises covered his chest and stomach. So were his wrists. Someone had restrained him at some point. Why? His ribs jutted out on a body usually well-toned and lean. He judged he had lost over a month of memory since being in the Nexus.

  He looked around and saw his clothes neatly folded on a chair near the window. Basilisk was leaning against one arm.

  Harlequin was gone.

  He almost called to the Powerball when he suddenly sensed a presence and the main door to the room opened to admit the countess. She was wearing a gown of light flowing material and carrying a tray of food. Telmar’s stomach growled as the smell of broth reached his nostrils.

  ‘Ah, the patient is awake. Good. I will not have to force feed you anymore,’ she said.

  ‘What happened to me?’ he asked in a dry croaky voice.

  Cinnibar placed the tray on her side of the bed and lifted the bowl. She spoke as she spooned broth into his mouth.

  ‘You have been delirious for some time,’ she said, ‘since the night of the Gathering, actually. Try as I might, I could not bring you back or break your link with the Cloud Orrinn; you were locked with it for hours. When it finally released you, you became demented and were raving. It was horrendous. We had to bind you to the bed, lest your actions harmed yourself or others, and we sedated you with herbal medicines.’

  Telmar nodded as he swallowed the broth. If they bound him, then that would explain the bruises. He concentrated on the Water Element and they slowly healed. Once his stomach was full, he felt better.

  ‘How long?’ he asked her.

  Cinnibar looked sad and hesitated a little too long for his liking.

  ‘How long?’ he asked again, this time impatiently.

  ‘Four months.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I have nursed you for four months. Physicians tended to you every week but could not find the cause of your ailment. Of course, I could not tell them about the Cloud Orrinn. Soon people were asking questions and I had to put the story out about a mental breakdown, and you were convalescing in the temple.’

  ‘Four months! Gods! I can’t remember any of it.’

&
nbsp; ‘I think that is just as well. You were frightening. At one point I feared your powers would manifest and destroy the building. Thankfully you must have had sense enough to control it.’

  Telmar shook his head. ‘Believe me, my lady, once it starts, it is difficult to stop.’

  The countess was staring at him. She seemed to be on the verge of asking a question, eager to know, yet also reluctant to ask.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked her.

  She shook her head. ‘No, you are still weak and you will tell me of your connection with the Orrinn another time.’ She picked up the tray and was about to take them away when Telmar grasped her wrist.

  ‘Why did you not tell me that the Lonely God was the Dark Force of the Earth?’ he said.

  She ignored his tight grip and beamed broadly. ‘You saw him? You saw the Earth Daemon?’

  ‘Earth Daemon?’ A confused look spread over Telmar’s face.

  ‘That is what we in the Order call him. The Elementals created a temple in his honour and named him such. The temple was called…’

  ‘The Brethac Ziggurat, yes?’ remarked Telmar.

  The countess nodded. ‘So you see the relationship with the Earth Daemon and our Order is eons old.’

  ‘Yes, he called me your herald.’

  ‘What did he say to you?

  Telmar was reluctant to speak of it, especially since he wanted to fathom out the particulars of his time in the Nexus and the appearance of the Door. Firstly, he was not sure of his trust with the Order and of this beautiful woman before him. Secondly, the entity he spoke to did not come across as a great and benevolent god as one would expect, in fact quite the opposite. The fact that it could summon the Door was disturbing and its revelation of humanity’s future was steeped in darkness and despair.

  Nevertheless, he did tell Cinnibar of the Earth Daemon’s message of rewarding its followers and the gift of vast powers should it be released from the Great Orrinn. He, however, did not mention the Nexus or the entity’s mention of the Blacksword.

  Cinnibar was overjoyed. ‘This is wondrous,’ she said, ‘a clear message after all of these years. I must tell the others.’

  Telmar flopped back down onto his pillows. ‘I must sleep,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, my love, you rest. I will be here when you wake.’

  6

  Telmar did sleep. He slept well into the night and at some point he felt the countess slip in beside him, as naked as he was. She smelled of strong perfumed soap and he realised that he desperately needed a bath.

  They lay entwined for a time, finding comfort in each other’s arms. Then Telmar turned around, still feeling weak, but finding renewed strength in his arousal. Cinnibar was patient and gentle.

  Even though I have the baron’s memories stuck inside my head; there are some of his memories that I refuse to look upon in any detail. Cinnibar and Telmar’s lovemaking is one of them. The countess is after all my great aunt and an enemy to my people as well. I find this time in Telmar’s life abhorrent. Yet I can also see he used her as much as she did him. Both needed something from each other, sex was just one of them. Cinnibar had a way of soothing the hurts of his body, her use of the Water Element was extraordinary and it had the effect of calming him each time they made love. That strange probing energy from her was always present, but he shut his mind to her, holding all his secrets in a dark forbidden place of his mind, a place even I cannot look.

  Afterwards, Telmar waited until Cinnibar was sound asleep, and then he rose and made his way to the baths that were the next floor down from the countess’s apartments. Part of the temple annex held natural springs that welled up into stone vats. The stored water was then pumped via pressure valves, similar to the Efron Pump designed by his father, to the stately apartments via brass pipes underground. The baron filled his bath and used the Arts to heat the water. Then he soaped himself for a few minutes until rinsing himself, and then lay back in the warm waters allowing it to sooth his tired muscles.

  He had been drifting off to sleep when his Rawn ability detected a presence. It was very faint and difficult to pinpoint, but his Rawn Arts could just make it out it was an energy field not created by humans. In fact, the reason he knew it was there was because he had felt it before.

  ‘Hello Harlequin,’ he said.

  The Powerball floated out from behind a marble pillar. He drifted towards Telmar until he was over the stone bath.

  ‘Your powers are improving, master, not many practitioners of the Rawn Art would be able to detect me,’ said Harlequin. ‘How are you feeling?’

  Telmar shrugged. ‘I’ve been better. Apparently I was a gibbering lunatic for four months.’

  ‘That’s putting it mildly.’

  ‘Was I really that bad?’

  ‘If they had not tied you down I believe you would have ripped your own flesh from your bones.’

  Telmar was surprised at the comment, the whole incident was now beginning to hit home. He shook his head and changed the subject.

  ‘Where have you been?’ he asked the Powerball.

  ‘Spying,’ answered Harlequin.

  Telmar sat up. The water slopped over the sides of the bath. ‘Who were you spying on?

  ‘Just about everyone that enters this temple and its annexes. Some I recognise, others I do not. The Order of the Brethac Ziggurat certainly has many powerful nobles amongst its ranks. Some came to see you over the past few months.’

  ‘Really, was I some sort of freak show?’

  ‘Apparently they hold you in high regard, well not you as such, your Pyromantic powers. You are incredibly rare.’

  Telmar nodded to himself. A man with the ability to talk to a god would arouse some interest and be revered indeed, until his usefulness waned.

  ‘I was also in the fortunate position of being able to record several conversations,’ continued Harlequin. ‘Some were mostly political. The Order is quite concerned about the running of the country for some reason. Most of the initiates are high-ranking politicians and nobles of Dulan-Tiss. One conversation of interest was about you.’

  ‘What did they say?’

  ‘If you would permit me, then I will show you?’

  Telmar hesitated then nodded. ‘Alright.’

  A probe of light from the Powerball’s surface darted down to the baron’s head and he felt a tickling sensation inside his mind. Harlequin was performing a type of Rawn Thought Link and he saw images of people standing in a group under a pillared canopy as they shaded themselves from the sun. Around them was a walled garden. Telmar knew, from Harlequin, that the garden was to the rear of the Havant Temple. The Powerball was looking out through a covering of flowers which was growing in a large stone plant pot.

  ‘Telmar’s madness cannot last much longer, surely?’ The speaker was Joaquin Ri, who was sipping wine from a goblet. Beside him stood a tall man in a crimson robe, a hood covered his head to hide his face in shadow.

  The other man shrugged. ‘Who knows what effects are apparent to humans when they talk to gods.’

  ‘It never affected you, Lord Sernac.’

  ‘What makes you think it didn’t?’

  Joaquin Ri looked disturbed for a while, then laughed. He crossed to a table and poured himself another goblet full of the dark red fluid. Another two men joined them, one was Duke Cormack the other was a slim man with grey hair. He had a thin black moustache and wore an embroidered white tunic. A fine sword in a golden coloured scabbard lay at his left side.

  ‘My lord,’ Cormack said as he bowed to the crimson robed man. ‘I must speak with you.’

  ‘Must you Cormack?’ the man sighed. ‘I was having a good day.’

  The duke ignored the jibe. ‘I may have a way of claiming the Wyani lands of Tressel. It will take time through the Land Courts but I think I can have a bill ready within three years.’

  Lord Sernac said nothing and folded his arms. Telmar had the impression that he was staring at the duke from within his hood. Cormack certainly looke
d uneasy.

  Joaquin Ri returned, ‘I wish you would give up this blood feud of yours, Cormack. Telmar will not be happy, and I have already told him that you will take no further action on his hereditary lands.’

  ‘My lands,’ snapped the duke, ‘by rights of debt. Think on it, all of you. Those retainers of the Guarding Grant are holding the lands. They do not use it to their full potential, but I will. It is not only I who will benefit from their ownership, but the Order will as well.’

  Joaquin remained silent. He looked at Lord Sernac, they all did, and they obviously awaited his approval. There was a slight movement of the hood as he nodded.

  ‘Do what you have to do,’ he said, ‘but only outside of the Order. I will pass a decree that forbids any member from helping you lest Telmar should blame us. That boy is our best hope of finding out the Earth Daemon’s plans for conquest. He and he alone within the order, has the power to communicate with Him. However, if you fail, you are on your own.’

  The duke hesitated, and then nodded. ‘Thank you, my lord.’ He bid them good day then left. The slim grey haired man watched him depart, mumbling under his breath.

  ‘Your thoughts, Klingspur?’ asked the enigmatic Lord Sernac. Telmar had another strange sense of awareness from Harlequin. This man was Klingspur Cambrian, Duke of Dulan, the king’s brother in law and Prince Sallen’s uncle. He was also the Knight Mirischal of all the standing armies of the Vallkytes, hence his title of Klingspur.

  Cambrian smiled. ‘If there is anyone that could find a loophole in the law, then it is Cormack. Of course, he could use the baron’s madness against him and claim him unfit to hold a noble rank.’

  ‘The barons madness it temporary, I assure you,’ said Sernac. How he knew this was confusing, but the other two men seemed to take this for granted.

  The Powerball’s probe retracted and Telmar blinked as he looked around. The water in his bath was now cold.

  ‘I will say this for Duke Cormack, he’s persistent. Thank you, Harlequin, for letting me know.’

  ‘It was actually the part about the “Earth Daemon’s plans for conquest” that concerned me.’