The Flames of Deception - A Horizon of Storms: Book 1

by AJ Martin

  “We have to find her!” Matthias yelled, clutching at his head.

  “Don’t you think Thadius would have had the common sense enough to get her away from here?” Luccius asked. “If they have survived, he would have taken her to safety.”

  Matthias swallowed. “I… I suppose,” he said groggily, his eyes panicked. “Where… where should we go?” he asked as Luccius began guiding him to the window ledge.

  “Wherever we can. As far away as possible! And let us hope that Sikaris doesn’t follow! My gods you’re heavier than you look!” They fell back into the building, and Matthias cried out in pain. “Sorry. I think you might have a broken arm, and possibly a broken leg. Can you walk?” he asked.

  Matthias looked down at his disjointed leg and then at his bulging arm. He took a breath and his eyes crackled sapphire as he wove a weak thread of power around his leg and arm. The bones crunched and he winced as they re - joined and set themselves back to where they were supposed to be. Then he yielded the power and with an effort, rose to his feet. “I can now,” he said.

  “Then let’s get out of this hell,” Luccius nodded.

  As they fled through the southern gate and out of Crystal Ember, a mushroom shaped plume of flame erupted from within the remains of the devastated city.

  Emary

  145th Day of the Cycle, 495 N.E. (New Era)

  The Broken Bow Inn was as crowded as it was messy. Drunken men packed the small tavern, slopping ale over each other and the already sticky floor as they recited bawdy songs and laughed at crude jokes. Others sat playing card games and casting dice across the uneven wooden tables, small piles of wonky, bronze coins lying in stacks. The air was stale and hazy, filled with smoke from weed pipes and no one looked up when Matthias and Luccius entered into the smog through the rusty - hinged door, which creaked like the menacing caw of a crow as it resisted being opened. Matthias’s once fine coat was now so dirty and torn that it drew little attention, especially in the darkness of night and the poor illumination of the few candles dotted around the place. He had removed the pendant from around his neck despite his distaste for the act and placed it in his pocket. A wizard in Olindia at a time like this could find himself in trouble and he didn’t dare to take the risk right now.

  A barman was propped up on a splintering beam of wood behind the bar, cleaning a mug absent-mindedly with a soiled cloth that, suffice to say, was having little effect. Luccius approached him, leaning forward over the bar so that he could be heard over the commotion. Mud mottled his cheeks and his hair was unkempt.

  “Do you have any rooms for a night?” he asked.

  “No,” the barman said, not taking his eyes from the room.

  “Are you sure?” Luccius tried again. “We can pay generously for-”

  “Positive. No rooms.”

  Matthias moved beside Luccius and tried not to wince as he propped himself up. His leg wasn’t broken anymore- he had managed to heal the bone with the earth power- but it was still extremely painful when he put pressure on it.

  “If you have no rooms, then perhaps we might get something to drink?” he asked. The barman huffed, threw the cloth over a shoulder, slammed the mug at the back of the bar with its other similarly soiled brothers and began pouring ale into two small, leather- clad pitchers, making his every move appear to be a chore as he did so.

  “Two beers,” he announced, placing the pitchers on the bar before them and spilling some of their contents in the process. The pungent liquid dribbled onto the parched, unvarnished wood of the bar. “That’ll be a bronze mark each,” he grunted.

  “That’s a bit steep!” Luccius exclaimed.

  The barman leaned forward and grabbed the top of the pitchers, his dirty fingers dipping into the ale. “If you don’t want em’ you can leave, pixie,” he said with distaste.

  Luccius frowned and opened his mouth to retort, but Matthias stepped in and put a coin on the bar.

  “Here’s a pound,” Matthias said bluntly and then rifled back into his pocket, pulling out a handful of smaller change. “And five shillings. Will that do?”

  The man reviewed the money and grunted. “It’ll do,” he said, and drew the money towards him and let it fall off the bar and into his other hand, where he then shoved it into a pocket on his apron. He returned to his previous position, finding another mug to attempt to clean while he daydreamed.

  Luccius sniffed and grumbled under his breath. “He’s a rip - off merchant!” he hissed. “That could have bought a days’ worth of meals and a room for the night in some places!”

  Matthias lifted the pitcher to his lips. “He’s taking advantage of the situation,” he said. “I’ll bet he has had a few refugees from Crystal Ember in here before us. The only tavern in town, and not another village for miles - he can probably smell the desperation on us,” he said, and drank the bitter liquid gratefully. His throat was so dry after walking for two days that he could have drunk a gallon of the stuff, even in spite of how disgusting the brew tasted.

  Luccius grimaced, as he tasted the ale. “Warm horses piss would be more appealing than this stuff Matthias!” he spluttered. Matthias looked at him with surprise at the comment. “Sorry,” he sighed. “I’m just tired.”

  “I know. I’m tired too. But this will keep us from passing out from lack of fluid. Besides, I don’t see any stables around, do you?” They looked at each other and laughed under their breath.

  Matthias turned to scan the rest of the cramped room. There was very little to peak the interest. A group of old men were roaring with laughter at a wiry old man’s tale about his wife who, by the sounds of the story being told, deserved a medal for remaining with him. Three men sat playing some kind of card game to their left. Fives, it looked like. At another table, a game of dice was in full swing, the men playing sat with pipes stuck firmly between their brown stained teeth.

  “I’ve been in some sordid taverns in my time…” Luccius said, shaking his head.

  “I believe you,” Matthias replied with a smile. He took a breath. “It’s still better than trudging through fields in the rain,” he added, playing with a torn seam on his coat.

  “But if there’s no rooms-”

  “There’s always a room, for the right price,” Matthias interrupted. “I’ve still got a fair amount of coin in my pockets, though a lot of it was in my bag that was in the palace.”

  “I have a little,” Luccius advised. “And I could probably double it if I challenge those men at Fives. I doubt they have ever played someone like me!”

  Matthias shook his head. “I don’t want to draw attention to us,” he said. “I’m too tired for a fight.”

  Matthias suddenly became aware of a figure draped in shadow, hunched over at the far end of the bar. He squinted at them, but the meagre candlelight wasn’t enough to see any more.

  “Luccius,” he said. “Your eyesight is better than mine in the dark.” He nodded discretely to the figure. “Can you make out that person?”

  Luccius turned and looked in the direction indicated. “It’s a woman,” he advised. She stooped over the bar with her hands clasped around a pitcher twice as large as their own. She was wearing strange clothes the likes of which he had never seen before. “She’s foreign,” he added.

  “Where from?” Matthias asked.

  Luccius shook his head. “I don’t know. I… I’ve never seen features like hers,” he whispered. Her eyes had a thin slant to them, slightly inset in her smooth skinned, tanned face. Her hair was long, dark brown and ran down past her shoulders, spiking abruptly at the ends. Several braids hung loosely from her scalp, wound with a blue ribbon. Other strands were decorated with silver charms of different shapes.

  “Give me your hand,” Matthias said quietly.

  “Why?” Luccius asked, turning back to him.

  “Something I learned from Protector Balzan. I can see through your eyes.” Luccius looked at him in disbelief. “Really,” Matthias added.

  Luccius nodded and pl
aced his hand, palm down, onto Matthias’s own. “Judging by the people in here Matthias, they may misconstrue this,” he said.

  “They’re too interested in their drink and games to notice and given how dark it is I’m lucky if I can see my own hand,” Matthias said back. “Besides, if your ears didn’t draw their attention already, then this certainly won’t.”

  Luccius turned back to the woman and squinted.

  “You’re right,” Matthias said, his gaze turned inwardly, looking through Luccius’s own vision. “I’ve never seen anyone with features like hers. She could be from Aslemer, I suppose, but her skin isn’t quite tanned enough.”

  Matthias continued to look through Luccius’s eyes at the woman. Her clothing was equally as unusual as her face. The overcoat she wore was made of a coarse, black material Matthias did not recognise. It could have been wool, but it was woven too closely. Beneath it she wore a tight blouse, with a tear across the torso. She wore a thin, grey skirt with a slit running up its length, and leather boots.

  “I understand why she is sitting in the shadows,” Luccius whispered. “The men in here would likely take advantage of a woman of her unusual beauty.”

  “True enough, but I think they would have a hard time of it if they tried anything,” he said thoughtfully. “A woman drinking alone in a bar like this is not short on confidence, and… not short on weaponry,” he added, nodding to a long knife that hung from her waist, its leather handle worn from use. Around her right wrist she wore a band of tightly woven thick black leather, and on her shoulder was a tattoo of the sun. A scar projected across her right forearm. “She’s a fighter and no mistake.” The wizard shifted his hand and Luccius withdrew his own.

  “I wonder why she’s in here?” Luccius asked, turning his gaze back to the rest of the tavern and drinking more of the ale with a grimace.

  “I would suggest you ask her, but I don’t think that would be wise. She obviously wants to be alone.”

  “Yes, I do,” a heavily accented voice said from the shadows. “But it is apparently difficult to be ignored in this land.”

  They gave a start. “I wasn’t aware that we were speaking within earshot,” Matthias said.

  “I could pick out a pin dropping onto a mattress, let alone your heavy whispers. Did you want something?” her voice growled at them from the darkness. “Or were you simply content with looking at me?”

  “We don’t want anything,” Matthias replied. “I’m sorry if we disturbed you.” He turned back to his drink.

  The woman continued to stare through the darkness, hawk-like eyes narrowing, catching the candlelight. “You are some kind of warriors?” she asked them, rising from her stoop and emerging from the gloom.

  “Not really,” Matthias said.

  “Your long - eared friend is heavily armed for someone who is not a warrior,” she replied. Then she spied Matthias’s sword sticking out from under his coat. Her eyes widened. “Where did you get that?” she asked.

  “I bought it,” Matthias advised.

  “You cannot buy such a weapon,” she replied. “You claim you are no warrior, yet you wear something like that,” she said in awe and gestured to the sword. “I know of no greater indication of your true nature than a Sakatilla.”

  “Sakatilla?” Matthias repeated.

  The woman thought a moment, and then translated. “Dragon - Tooth Sword.”

  “You have seen a sword like this before?” Matthias asked. She nodded. “Where?”

  “They are made in my country,” she said sharply. “For the Ouroborian Legions.”

  “I’ve not heard of them,” Matthias advised. “What country do they serve?”

  “Lantai,” she replied. “Across the ocean.” She shook her head. “If you have come into possession of that sword, then it means its past owner is dead. Did you kill him?” she asked bluntly.

  Matthias shook his head. “I told you, I bought it.”

  “Then you made your purchase from a murderer,” she said with distaste.

  “I’ve heard of Lantai,” Luccius cut in, trying to steer the conversation away from the sword. “It’s across the northern ocean somewhere. Ships travel there from the harbour at Ordovier.” He saw the look from Matthias and added: “I met a captain of a ship once in Tekri who claimed to have sailed the entire shoreline of Triska and beyond.”

  “It sounds like you are far from home,” Matthias said, trying to turn the woman’s attention to other matters.

  “I have had little choice in this,” she said, and gulped back more of her ale. “My country is occupied. I had no choice but to flee to the land of cowards.”

  “You are a soldier?” Luccius asked, ignoring the insult.

  “Unofficially,” she said. “I fought to protect my family, my village, when the Tasakai invaded. I failed,” she said with thinly disguised disdain.

  “You must have been in Triska for quite a while to have come this far south from Ordovier,” Matthias commented.

  “Two… months, I think is the word in your tongue,” she said, nodding. “It has felt like much longer.”

  “What have you been doing since you arrived?” asked Luccius, sipping at his drink.

  The woman smiled. “I fight.”

  “For who?” Matthias asked.

  “Anyone who can afford me,” she replied.

  “You’re a bounty hunter?” Luccius exclaimed. “Why in the name of the gods have you fallen into that trade?”

  Hearing this, the woman turned and walked to him until her face was inches from the ansuwan. “What is left of my people is trapped under the fist of murderers. One day I will return and deliver justice to my people, when the time is right. Until then I must survive, and I must fight to keep my abilities strong. It suits my purposes.” She lingered and Luccius felt his cheeks redden as her angered face shifted into a smile, before she turned away, flicking her hair at him and returning to her ale, downing the rest of the pitcher and wiping her mouth with an arm. Droplets from her lips smeared the fine hairs on her skin. She slammed the pitcher to the wood. “Your ale is weak in this land,” she commented. “It is a constant in everything I have seen in this Triska.” She said the word as if it were alien to her, and distasteful.

  “What’s your name?” Matthias asked her.

  “Emary,” she replied, staring at the bottom of the empty pitcher at the remaining foam.

  “An unusual name,” Luccius commented.

  “Perhaps to you,” she sniffed.

  Outside the Inn a woman screamed. The bar exploded with commotion. Matthias and Luccius looked to each other.

  “Is it Sikaris?” Luccius asked.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Matthias nodded, and together they turned on their heels and pushed through the gathering crowd to the door. Emary followed, ripping a dagger from where it nestled in her belt and shoving her way through the throng. No - one else ventured out of the safety of the tavern: there was a big difference between being curious and being a hero, and none of the patrons came anywhere close to being that noble or adventurous.

  The light from inside the buildings dotted along the street provided the only illumination on the dark path outside. There was no one else to be seen in the shrouded streets. Matthias threw up a hand and a ball of bright white light sprung up and hovered a foot or so in front of his face. Emary stepped back a pace and eyed him warily.

  “You are a wielder!” she hissed.

  “I’ve never heard it put that way before,” Matthias said as he walked the street intently, peering in between the buildings in the darkened alleyways.

  “It’s too quiet to be Sikaris,” Luccius whispered. Matthias nodded.

  They stopped as the ball of light illuminated a cloaked form in a backstreet to their left, bent over the body of a young woman. She lay lifeless on the ground, her youthful face pale, eyes drained of their life. Her lips were covered in an oily black slime.

  In the light the hooded figure’s facial features could be see
n beneath a head of spines, curving back like a porcupine. A thin, wide mouth sneered at them, sharpened teeth glinting, and its eyes glowed a dark umber. Its pincers still dripped with fresh blood on to the dead woman's garments.

  “Sykanth!” Emary gasped.

  “Sorry?” Luccius responded, hefting his spear.

  “A creature of the shadows,” she elaborated.

  “We call them demons, or helspawn,” Luccius advised.

  “Stay back, or I’ll rip you to pieces!” Matthias hissed at it. The creature’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I know you understand me, so believe me when I say I will do it.” The creature snarled at him and pawed the air with its pincers mockingly. “An innocent girl lies dead at your feet. I am in no mood to be trifled with!” Matthias warned, his eyes crackling with the earth power.

  Emary stepped around Matthias and towards the creature.

  “Hey! Get back here!” Matthias barked at her, but she did not listen. She marched forward, dagger in hand. The beast snarled at her and raised its claws, and then launched itself at her. She ducked out of its path with ease and sliced at its back, cutting deep into the monsters flesh. It dribbled green blood onto the path and shrieked, before spinning back round, slashing at her again. She weaved her way around its blows, kicking and punching at it expertly.

  “Not bad for someone who’s not a soldier,” Luccius exclaimed, eyes fixed on the woman dancing around the creature with precision, as if engaged in a waltz.

  Matthias looked annoyed. He glanced up at the sky. Overhead, thick, grey clouds were just visible in the dark. The wizard threw up a hand to them and out of their depths a bolt of lightning flashed, the fork striking the demon with pinpoint precision and blowing its skull to pieces. The body fell to the ground in front of Emary, what remained of the head steaming at her feet, green blood bubbling out of its charred arteries. As the blood pooled around her boots, Emary rounded on the wizard.

  “What did you do that for? I had things under control!” she growled. Her teeth ground together almost audibly.