by P D Ceanneir
For Telmar, the end came when the pain in his head hit him during the last attack directed towards us. Stubbornly he ignored it and pushed through the thumping ache in his head. Blood finally streamed from his nose as the pain escalated and he collapsed to the ground, gasping in shock. He knew he had pushed it too far. Something inside his head had snapped. He stumbled away from the field and somehow managed to find a cavalry horse grazing near the ravine of the first battle, miraculously still alive.
For the survivors, standing on the blackened hard ground surrounded by charred and smouldering corpses of our once illustrious army of regulars and the flower of Rogun chivalry, we stared in disbelief at the devastation around us. As far as the eye could see was a blackened, scorched landscape. Thick columns of tar black smoke rising to blot out the setting sun.
Most of us were too weak to stand and Lord Ness sat down with a weary grunt, complaining of dizziness. His white cloak, like Lord Soneros and Fowyn’s, was dirty and burnt in places. Cinnibar’s long blonde hair was singed on one side and her surcoat hung from her in blackened tatters, she was holding an unconscious Jynn in her arms. All of the Ri had depleted their energy to save us, now they could barely move. Hagan was groggy from the rock striking him earlier and, between Powyss and me, we searched for survivors. I found Kasan alive with young Lord Rett, a Ri called Gonliss and a newly ordained Ri called Nestor. Both the prince and Nestor Ri were carrying Rett from the smoke when we found them.
‘Have you seen him?’ asked Kasan. I knew to whom he referred.
‘I think I saw him run off to the south,’ informed Powyss.
‘He must be weak after that effort. I’m going after him,’ said my brother. At first I protested, but then I offered to go with him, because I knew my headstrong brother would not listen to me and he would need help, and then I heard Cinnibar speak behind me.
‘No, I will go with Kasan, sire,’ she said with a gentle touch on my shoulder to stop me. ‘Some people will need healing and you and Captain Powyss are stronger than the Ri at the moment.’
I agreed with her logic, trusting her to curb any of my brother’s recklessness, and so I watched them run off after Telmar.
To this day I still regret not going along with them, perhaps things would have turned out differently.
Meanwhile, I found Gunach and a few of his dwarves, they had hidden in a long, narrow ditch at the edge of the battlefield and covered themselves with their tall dragon-scaled shields, and I instantly pressganged them into service as stretcher-bearers to take the Ri off the scorched field.
Little did I know at the time that Telmar’s fate would be in the hands of my great aunt and brother, and so too was the future of us all.
8
It was not hard to track down the king. He had only gone three miles on horseback and had then left the animal grazing by the side of the road while he hid in the ruined keep of Duncattrine. Kasan found him first. Telmar had not bothered to draw his sword; he just lay with his back against the far wall of the old eating hall, staring at the blackened fire-ravaged hole that was once the main entrance to the keep. Prince Kasan drew his sword and called for Cinnibar.
‘This is where you meet your end, usurper!’ screamed Kasan, but a cry from Cinnibar at the entrance stayed his sword hand.
‘No nephew! I need him alive,’ she said.
‘What? Why?’ Kasan asked in confusion. The countess ignored the question. She stepped in front of the prince and knelt down next to the king so she was eye level with him.
‘Telmar?’ she said softly.
The king looked at her as if just realising she was there. The blood from his nose had dried on his upper lip and chin. He was shaking slightly.
‘It’s broken, Cinnibar,’ he said with a weak voice and tapping his temple with a croaked finger. ‘Something up here has snapped. I cannot use the Arts to heal myself, I have forgotten how to.’
‘He’s mad,’ said Kasan with disgust from behind the countess.
‘Shush!’ said Cinnibar irritably. She reached out, touched Telmar’s cheek, and closed her eyes.
‘The curse is still there, I can feel it, though his fires have been banked for now,’ she said.
Kasan knelt down beside her, frowning. ‘My grandfather and his nobles will want nothing less than this man’s head,’ he said, ‘brain damaged or not.’
‘And I need his Pyromantic power to use the Cloud Orrinn!’ snapped Cinnibar. ‘I have the ability to absorb his curse for short intervals, but in order to do that I need him alive.’
Telmar’s eyes flicked towards Kasan’s. ‘Not you as well, Kasan; has the Order of the Brethac Ziggurat snared you into its nets as well?’
‘Yes, two years past, actually. I have a better brotherhood than my own pathetic siblings. Together we share the knowledge of the past and aspire to greatness in the future. Together we are all the true lovers of destiny.’
Telmar jerked with laughter. His head burst with pain, but he did not care if he died now.
‘Lovers of Destiny? What rubbish! Both of you are destined to die horrible deaths, mark my words,’ said the king.
‘Bah! I’ve had enough of this, let’s kill him,’ said Kasan, but Cinnibar stood to protect Telmar.
‘I said no!’ she said unthreateningly. ‘Go down to the road and find a burnt body, there were a few we passed close to the ravine. Bring it here and we shall put Telmar’s armour on it.’
Kasan looked from her to the prone king still shaking on the floor.
‘You want to fake his death?’ he asked.
The countess nodded. ‘I shall order a few loyal guardsmen to take him to Sonora in chains during the night. You will deliver the body to the others. We shall make up a feasible cover story, saying that he torched himself in his madness.’
‘But aunt, he is a Pyromancer, and very dangerous.’
‘Look at him!’ said Cinnibar. ‘He’s not dangerous any longer. He is a victim of his own fate. Now go, and be quick.’
9
That is how the Brethac Ziggurat duped us into believing Telmar was dead. Kasan found a very unrecognisable body of a Havant Guardsman of about the king’s height. He swapped the armour and brought the body to us in the dead of night. I believe that if Lord Ness had not been so fatigued after holding back the flames he would surely have discovered the deception. Unfortunately, he and Lord Soneros went back to Fort Curran to recover.
I took Telmar’s sword and still have it hanging on the wall of my study. My brother, Hagan, took his golden circlet and wore it at the inauguration of his Kingship when he became the monarch of Sonora years later.
While we stood around the body, licking our wounds and recovering from the battle, Cinnibar moved Telmar to Sonora and incarcerated him in a small cell under the palace. He fell into one of his fugue states that would last longer than any of the others before that day. Eventually, when Kasan took over the principality of Dulan-Tiss, the countess decided to move him, judging it safer, mainly because the Vallkyte capital would become the stronghold of the Brethac Order in the years to come.
Chroniclers would call that last battle against King Telmar, the Battle of Fallows Hill, but in time it would become known by the more popular name, the Battle of the Firelands. However, the war was not over yet, we still had to face Joaquin Ri and his small army at Dulan-Tiss. Kasan and I stripped the forts of Curran and Chunla of regulars and even ordered the garrison at the Pander Pass to march out. On the way to the citadel we gathered support and parked a sizeable host by the walls of the capital. In the end it was all for nought; Count Talien had escaped the city with the remnants of his host. He and Joaquin Ri, along with Lord Sandbrea, waited in the citadel for word of the king, but the news came to them of his death, so they disbanded the army and fled into exile. Neither of them was heard of again.
The same would not be said of Aelfric Cokato. He and about a hundred Berserkers escaped the battle and made it to Keveni where they took their longboats back to Hotten Isle. A year
later Prince Kasan, now ruling the Principality of the Vallkytes, sent an expeditionary force to the isle. They found it deserted.
Cokato’s name would crop up again throughout the next ten to fifteen years. He would command many raids and daring attacks on the seaborne enemies of the Hinterland chieftains, usually on the north continental realms of their natural enemies, the Ventoli. He would become more famous as a Jarl of mercenaries than he would as Telmar’s most gifted officer.
One year I heard that he had died in a battle against Morgani Witches, but a year later he was to resurface in another war fighting for a king of Summerland Amon. I suspected the name Cokato had become a kingly rank for his successors to use and to continue his legend, but we shall never know the truth.
We may all have believed that Telmar was dead and, for many years, he thought he was too. So lost within his own broken mind was he that he only remembered snatch glimpses of memories while he resided as a guest in the Dulan-Tiss dungeon for the next forty years, or so. His mind was not as damaged as one would have thought, because he still managed to cover the walls of his cells in Skrol and each night he would use its subconscious power to dampen the Pyromantic Fire within him.
Cinnibar, however, was not as convinced of his disability because he would have short spells of clarity, especially when she used her Waternymph abilities to draw Pyromantic Surges from him so she could use the energy to contact the Earth Daemon through the Cloud Orrinn. She also wanted his knowledge, in particular the secrets of the Eldi. Unfortunately for her, and the Brethac Order, all those secrets were safely stored inside my head and, since writing Telmar’s story, I have also written several volumes about the works of the twelve Elders called the Eldi Cannon. The mighty tomb lays in a hidden location in my study, and I will pass it onto my son, Prince Havoc, when I die.
10
We are near the end now as I sit and write the last few lines, there is not much more for me to tell you.
Some forty years later my wife, Queen Molna, discovered Telmar (now referred to as Shanks by the other prisoners) when she resided at Dulan-Tiss after her kidnapping by King Kasan’s general, Plysov, and her forced marriage to my brother at the beginning of the Second Civil War.[16] She brought Shanks out of his fugue states long enough to fathom out who he really was. Then, some years later, during the last Rite of Ancarryn held at the Vallkyte capitol, she, Lord Ness and Prince Havoc managed to facilitate Telmar’s escape from the citadel and brought him here to Aln-Tiss where I, against my better judgement, gave him sanctuary.[17]
Although some credit is due to the one time Baron of Tressel and King of the Vallkytes, he not only saved the continent from a terrible fate by defeating the Helbringer, but he also disrupted the plans of the Brethac Ziggurat for forty years until another civil war began against the Roguns and the Vallkytes. Most of the Order’s high-ranking members thankfully died in the Battle of the Firelands.
Unfortunately, now, in present day, the war continues and a new enemy has arisen - Dragons. The Brethac Army, under the command of my brother, King Kasan of the Vallkytes, has taken Caphun and now marches on the Pander Pass. I go at the head of a large host of the Temperance League and plan to stop him at Aquen.
I just wish both my sons were by my side.
I hereby pass the Black Ledger to my wife, Queen Molna. It is fitting that she is the one to continue his story. She knows Telmar more than I do these days and, if I should fall in battle, she will keep the book and his identity safe until Prince Havoc returns from his quest.
Before I go, I give honour to the gods, protection to my people, and much love to my family.
Farewell.
Vanduke the First, King of the Roguns
3rd day of Jithi 3046 YOA
The Death of a Pyromancer
‘Here lies Baron Telmar, the Pyromancer. So beloved of those who saw the light of goodness in his eyes.’
Telmar’s epitaph. Inscribed on his cremation urn.
1
Aln-Tiss 3048 YOA
A continuation of the life of Baron Telmar told by his friend and companion, Molna Duchess of Carras, and former Queen of the Roguns and Vallkytes.
King Havoc of Assassi-Al, the first of that name, and the first to rule the new unified kingdom of the Roguns and the Vallkytes after his victory against the Brethac Ziggurat, closed the Black Ledger, pinched the bridge of his nose, and lent back into his high-backed chair. He looked across the room at all of us, who watched him in return with anticipation.
I sit on the soft couch beside Shanks, and Queen Bleudwed sits on my other side. The former baron grips his staff and leans his chin on his hands. He is staring at Havoc in wonder. Not for the first time have I wondered at the relationship of these two enigmatic men. Each a Pyromancer, both have killed thousands for the sake of peace. They regard each other as brothers who share the same curse and have formed a mutual respect for one another which I find bemusing and touching at the same time.
Vanduke, my dear departed husband, saw this also. Since he fell at the battle of Aquen, over eight years ago now, I have wallowed in sadness, only the love of my son and Shanks keeps the despair at bay.
By the high marble fireplace that sits on the north wall of my son’s study stands Sir Powyss, Paladin-knight to the king and Viscount of Zent. He is another legendary figure, and a close friend of my son and I. He also knows the bond between the two Pyromancers is strong. However, he only recently learnt of Shank’s real identity, and still watches Telmar warily since coming into our confidence. He is also one of the few of the king’s close friends who have read the Black Ledger, as the black leather-bound book sitting on my son’s desk is commonly known in the royal family.
‘This Helbringer,’ says Havoc from behind his large oak desk, ‘is still a threat. I take it?’
‘Yes,’ said Shanks. ‘I think I only delayed it. If it were not for your father writing my story in the Black Ledger then I would have forgotten about its existence, utterly.’ Shanks refers to his damaged brain. Since the Battle of the Firelands, he has not been able to use the Rawn Arts and his memories are fragmented.
‘I understand Cronos referring to the Blacksword as a Demigod,’ says the king. ‘Lord Ness and I had a similar discussion before we arrived home from the Quest. It was the last time I ever spoke to him.’ The memory of Ness Ri’s demise paints a look of sadness on his face. Bleudwed gets up, moves around the desk, and places a reassuring hand on his. He smiles up at her beautiful face.
The queen is six months pregnant. Even at this early stage in her pregnancy the unborn infant is large. Her short slim frame makes the bump bulge and ready to split. She constantly complains of back pain. She is so energetic these days, which are the best in her political life. I wave a hand reproachfully for her to sit.
‘Oh, stop fussing, mother!’ she says jokingly. She has called me mother since her wedding day. Shanks chuckles, and behind me, Powyss laughs. I smile, though I am very motherly and protective towards Bleudwed I see the feisty independence to her character that attracted Havoc to her.
‘If you walk about any more, darling, then your ankles are going to swell up again,’ I chide her.
‘Well Really! You’re as bad as Little Kith,’ she replies. ‘As soon as he found out I was with child he doubled the gate guard and restricted my duties.’
Powyss says jovially, ‘careful now, your Grace, Little Kith’s ears are as big as his muscles.’ We all laugh and look towards the archway entrance of the king’s study and the thick oak door that bars the way. No one would be able to hear us through the varnished and iron studded door, least of all the royal couple’s bodyguard, who is standing outside in the corridor.
The laughter lightens the serious mood in the room. My son stands and looks out of the open balcony window. He has a clear view of the Rings of Carras and the shrine held inside the circle of its monoliths. The shrine holds the Great Orrinn, the Sword that Rules pierces it from top to bottom. A constant troop of Carras Knights stands guard a
round the outside of the circle, day and night.
‘It will be a long time before I take up the Sword that Rules again,’ says Havoc whimsically.
Powyss frowns. ‘I thought you said that the Blacksword was dead.’
Havoc turned to his old friend and shrugs, ‘Death is difficult to kill, wouldn’t you say?’
We all sit in silence for a time, then the king smiles. ‘I died once, but the sword held me safe until my body was strong enough to take me back. I think a similar thing has happened with the Blacksword, sometimes I can hear him whispering to me at night.’
‘That’s just me telling you to stop snoring!’ cries Bleudwed and we all laugh again including Havoc. He waves a hand to change the subject.
‘The problem with the Helbringer is solved for now, at least for a hundred and fifty years. The immediate issue is the Masterton Maelstrom. Stabilising it is a priority, but where do we start?’
‘If I may, your majesty?’ offers Shanks.
‘Shanks, in this company, you can call me by name,’ Havoc tells him softly.
‘Very well, Havoc. After your siege of Sonora, did your men find the Grymward’s?’
Havoc looks to Powyss for the answer, but the Viscount shakes his head. ‘Nothing was found after the earthquake and the library had many books missing.’
‘Pity,’ says Shanks. ‘I would like to have read them again.’ He looks to the king, ‘if I could look through the Eldi Cannon then, maybe I could fathom out some way of helping.’
Havoc nods at that. ‘I had hoped you would say that. In the entire world, you are the only person alive who has travelled in time.’
‘To save the world, no less,’ I put in.
Hear, hear,’ seconds Bleudwed as she places a hand on his shoulder. Telmar smiles at us both; he is a lucky man to have two such women caring for him.
Havoc breaks the moment. ‘In the meantime I will post a small garrison at Dorit Lorne to watch over the site, although they will not know why they do it. I will give Sir Furran and Sir Hexor the task. Of course, they may have to know the reason, but not all of the truth. ’