Once inside, they found only seats. Otherwise, it was bare: there were no paintings or statues, as would befit a church of the He.
The man explained why.
“The church was ransacked along with the rest of the village when the soldiers learned we could no longer pay their extortionate fees. We asked them how they could desecrate a house of the He, and they just laughed and said: ‘The only house we know is that of our Queen.’”
Linaera understood the man was religious.
It was a strange idea to her: why believe in the unseen, the unproven? Why believe there is some great, omniscient being looking out for you, even as thugs steal everything you have? The mages often viewed the peasantry in contempt for their superstition; and while Linaera could not bring herself to believe in the church, she did – on some level at least – understand. Sometimes, she realised, believing in better was all you had.
She was glad to be in the church, and for a more banal reason: it saved her from the rain and the wind.
Perrien walked to the free space near the altar. “Harold, Damon: you go get the sleeping sacks and food supplies. Jake, John, you help set up a fire. Linaera and Stella, you rest,” he ordered.
Like worker ants obeying the hive queen, the party did as he bid.
Linaera sat down, crossing her arms across her chest. Weariness tugged at tired bones, but her curiosity was piqued. She had never been in a church – only read about them in books. She was, in truth, quite impressed by the building. Murals of angels holding scrolls decorated the stained glass windows; the roof was graceful and sloping; and on the floor, great flagstones were engraved with inscriptions. Linaera attempted to decipher them. The language was Arachadian, but not modern. She picked out “The He listens to all who worship him,” but no more.
Linaera sighed, turned away, and relaxed in her sleeping sack. Made from harsh wool but stuffed with goose feathers and lined with cotton, it kept her wonderfully warm. The inventor, Linaera knew, was a hermit mage who lived in the far north; he had been solitary for decades, but one day came to a nearby town to announce his invention. He was thanked forevermore.
She watched the other party members. They were going to light a fire. A boy was elected to do it: Damon, Linaera remembered.
Damon was a pale boy; he was also small in stature, especially next to burly Harold. His eyes – green as grass – and his hair – brown as acorns – all served to give him an endearing appearance. Still, Linaera had no doubt he could be deadly.
With a mumbled “Allor” he set the logs – a few measly things, salvaged from the nearby buildings – into glorious flame.
After that, bread, dried meats, cheeses, and onions were passed around; after a long day the mages ate hungrily. Linaera was happy to join them: the food may not have been what she was used to, but all food tastes good on an empty stomach.
“Hey, do you think we’ll meet any Basilisks?” It was John who asked. He was a dark-skinned boy, from the south of Arachadia. His accent was odd, to Linaera’s ears – it was melodious where the northern was harsh, and contained many turns of phrase unique to the region.
“I’m certain we shall, John,” Harold replied. There was a smile on his face as he said so.
Basilisks were considered legend by some, but real by most mages. They were deadly, reptilian creatures; they were said to possess sharp claws, sharp teeth, and an appetite for meat. Thankfully, they were rare.
“We will meet one, I tell you! And I will be the one to kill it!” John answered. He gave Harold a playful punch on the shoulder; Harold laughed throatily.
Sasha abruptly joined Linaera.
“Are you okay?” she asked. Ah, Sasha, always thinking about other people’s welfare.
“I’m fine... I think. I’m tired – though I don’t regret it for a moment.”
“You know, that was pretty impressive of you Linaera. I know you didn’t do the actual healing, but still... you did the right thing. You were sure when the others were uncertain.”
It was the best I could do,” Linaera replied modestly. “Anyway, I think we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“Riding is exhausting, huh?”
“You bet.”
Perrien interrupted them.
“Everyone! It has been a long day, and you no doubt wish to discuss it at length. But you must go to sleep; we leave early in the morrow, and you will need your rest.” With just a small smile, he added: “Trust me.”
The mages quieted, and went to sleep. Linaera’s breaths came in clouds – she suspected it had dropped to below zero. She wondered, then, what the future would hold in store. Would they make it back before winter? They had prepared for cold weather, and had much coin and supplies; but even so Linaera doubted that journeying in winter would be a pleasant experience.
Resolving to deal with things as they came, she forced herself to sleep. Her dreams were dark, that night; they were haunted by shadows, by dead hands that chocked her in her sleep, and by whispers. Terrible whispers, that urged her to run from the church, and join their master in the land of darkness.
She thrashed in her sleep, her struggle a long one. Black forms slithered on the outskirts of the church, seeing all, forgetting nothing.
FIVE
Linaera’s eyelids twitched sporadically. A brief ray of sunshine had fallen upon her like a beam of burning power. It soon awoke her.
Then the clouds came back, and the world was once again dark.
“Wakey wakey!” someone called out. Sasha, Linaera realised.
She blinked. The world resolved itself around her. There were the windows of the church, the winged men cast in lurid red by the light of the rising sun; there was the frost that sparkled on the ground; and there was Sasha..
Those sea-blue eyes were filled with amusement as she took in Linaera’s sleep filled form.
“We have to get up now,” she continued. “We need to cover as much distance as possible as soon as possible.” Her voice was the sarcastic mimicking of younger years. Linaera guessed she was referring to Perrien.
With a sigh (and a cat-like stretch) she got out.
“Why must I wake so early?” she continued, noticing the dawn.
“Perrien wants us to move. In fact, he wanted to leave you here.” There was a twinkle of humour in her eyes as she said so; Linaera laughed.
“I would have preferred that, actually.” She suddenly became sombre.
“What’s wrong?”
“I had a dream, that’s all. Can’t remember much of it though.”
“Come on you – ignore dreams. We have more important things to worry about.”
Linaera packed up her sleep sack and went outside. The rain had momentarily ceased, though the wind picked up where it left off. She made her way to Dacresh; the animal brightened when he saw her. As she petted him and prepared to mount him, Perrien came over.
“I’m sorry we had to leave so early,” he began. “I know you’re not much of a morning person.” A wan smile accompanied the second part.
“It’s all right. I understand.”
“By the way, I appreciate what you did for that child.”
“Thank you,” Linaera said, flustered. Seeing her reaction, Perrien proceeded to lighter matters.
“If I may ask, who are your parents?”
“My parents were nobody,” she replied with mechanical smoothness. It was a question that was asked often enough; and every time Linaera resented it. She knew nothing of her parents – all that Terrin had told her was that she had been abandoned by them, and left in the care of the mage academy.
“Oh... they’re not with you anymore?”
“No.”
“Very well then. What about your friends?”
“Sasha, as you may already know, is a friend. There’s also Mark, though he’s at school.” She paused.
“No one else?”
“There are plenty of others, but I would not call them true friends.”
“A wise
enough course of action. What about your hobbies?”
“I like playing chess, reading and nature.”
Perrien smiled at the last part.
“Do natural phenomena fascinate you?”
“They do indeed. I like... the sheer inter-connectivity of it. Everything about nature is about nature; it’s a whole system we can barely begin to understand.”
Perrien laughed at that.
“True, very true. Luckily for you, there’s plenty of wildlife round these parts. It was one of the reasons I became a guide.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, it’s time to go.”
As Perrien announced that they would leave, the man came back.
“Hello once more, dear travellers.”
“I am afraid I know not your name,” replied Perrien.
“I beg your pardon! I have not introduced myself. I am called Zebadiah.”
“Zebadiah? As in, a gift from the Him?”
The man smiled gently.
“Indeed. I see you are not ignorant in the ways of the Him. Anyway,” he went on, “I fear you are leaving.”
“So we are.”
“I would ask thee to stay longer and accept what gifts we have – yet I see you are very hurried. If I may ask, what is the purpose of this journey?”
It was Harold who filled in.
“We are investigating certain... occurrences within the Northern Mountains.”
“The Northern Mountains? Those are dangerous places indeed, or so I have heard. I hope you are careful.”
“Do not fear; we are well prepared.” It was Perrien who spoke.
After finishing their preparations, and a few more words of spoken goodbyes – including one from the woman they had succoured – the party left. Linaera looked back, as they rode away. She would remember the woman and her baby; it had been the first time she’d faced unsavoury reality.
***
They rode; they ate. Then they rode again, and ate again. Monotony would have been proud.
Perrien’s gruelling pace kept them tired at all times, but it also meant that distance was overtaken in sweeps.
The landscape changed.
They passed many hills, effervescent green despite the weather, filled with shepherds (and their sheep); they passed forests, dense canopies of foliage; and at times they fell again into poor, lifeless villages.
The wind blew hard. The rain – slow and steady, but there all the same – created an annoyance for the mages as they threw more energy into water spells. Linaera’s breaths misted slightly, with the oncoming Winter.
November was almost gone. The snows would soon arrive: Linaera hoped to be back by then, for their journey would become far more sluggish (and dangerous) if they didn’t.
Hours passed. There was nothing to indicate their passage: the sun was obscured; the conversations, few and far between.
It became almost a rhythm for Linaera. She would rise and fall every time they went into a trot, pat the horse every time they finished a canter, and huff and puff whenever they slowed down.
She was no longer truly aware of her surroundings.
That was, until they reached the Swamp.
***
The Swamp was as vast as it was vile.
Its borders stretched passed the horizon, seemingly into infinity; its dirty, brackish water was opaque, and revealed nothing; and its reeds grew sharp and dangerous – porcupine plant needles.
And it was silent. There were no crickets, no flies, and no life. There was only this terrible blight.
The party lay stupefied.
It was several moments before they fully comprehended what was in front of them. It was several more moments before they decided on what to do.
There was a cacophony as they all talked at once, shouting and waving at one another.
Perrien did not utter a word. Well, all except one:
“SILENCE!”
There was silence.
As the party looked at him expectantly, Perrien slowly lifted out his map.
“This is not on the map.”
Harold posed the first reply:
“That map is quite new. And we are too far North for such things to exist. What shall we do?”
Linaera took that opportunity to make her observation.
“Has anyone noticed how quiet it is? No birds? Insects?”
“I do not believe this Swamp is natural, Linaera,” Perrien replied. The other members looked at each other.
John – the small dark skinned boy – said:
“This feels wrong. It feels dark.”
A wave of menace seemed to emanate from the swamp. Like it was threatening them.
Linaera allowed herself to gaze at it. There’s no way we can cross it, she thought.
She was not the only one who thought so.
“This is impassable. We must go round.” Damon was the speaker.
Jake disagreed.
“I suggest we go through. Not today – it’s getting dark. But tomorrow.”
There were outraged cries. Jake continued.
“Look guys, we’re on a schedule. If we don’t get to our destination soon, the Winter snows will catch us. Then we’ll see how you like it.”
John added:
“I don’t like it, but... I think he might be right.”
An argument ensued. Like schoolgirls, they shouted and raved, screeched and cursed. Some of the imprecations made Linaera cringe, and she was mostly just content to wait for Perrien.
She did not have to wait long.
“Quiet!”
There was quiet. Only the wind blowing its eerie tune through the reeds (Tick-Click, Swish-Swish) could be heard.
“I must balance the two threats: Winter, or the Swamp.
“If I have to choose... there is no question. I have lived through many a harsh Winter – I know how to make proper tents, long-lasting fires and everything else that is needed. But this? Nay! A Swamp, out of nowhere!”
More silence ensued.
One question had gone unanswered.
Stella asked: “My only question is how this swamp appeared... or else, who made it.”
Linaera was just about to say “the necromancer” when she realised something.
They don’t know. My God, he didn’t tell them!
How could Terrin not have told them of the threat? Was it really that frightening to these trained mages?
Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to say anything. The party was too busy making camp – and she needed to help. Besides, she would have time later.
***
An impenetrable veil of darkness had made claim over the landscape. There was neither moon nor star. The clouds obscured everything, blasting them with rain.
Linaera was in her sleeping sack. Sasha was beside her. They were talking.
“My god! A necromancer you say? And you didn’t tell me this, why?”
“I told you! I thought Terrin already had.”
“Why would you think that? He never tells us anything. The other mages were just told they were finishing off what Eiliara started – I, even less.”
Linaera shook her head. Did Terrin want to get them killed?
Bastard, she thought. I’ll kill him when I get back.
Sasha continued:
“We’ll have to tell the others, of course. Though probably tomorrow, when they are rested and more agreeable.”
“We will,” Linaera concurred.
They went to sleep.
***
They were soon awoken.
And it happened loudly and suddenly.
“Get up! John’s stuck in the mud – something’s attacking him!”
Both mages were instantly up. Unbeknownst to them, a storm front had been moving in.
Now black clouds – many in the shape of haphazard monsters – dominated the great, empty sky.
Thunder exploded. Its echoes reverberated throughout, like shattered mirrors in the hall of horrors.
As the mages made
their way through, the accompanying flash of light revealed... everything.
Jake was gesturing wildly. The other mages were running towards him. And John was, indeed, stuck.
He frantically struggled to remove his treacherous leg as it remained firmly in the quick sand. Monsters leered behind him.
Some of them seemed humanoid. They moved in slow, awkward gaits, but steady all the same. Their eyes were a bright yellow, like the Devil’s cat; their faces were elongated and deformed.
They’re part crocodile, Linaera realised.
Those snouts were filled with sharp, pernicious teeth. They clicked and clacked ominously, no doubt capable of applying immense force.
And they were gaining on him.
“Irias!” Stella shouted.
Moments later, a ball of light burst into existence; and the nightmare was elucidated in full.
There were other creatures in the fray. These were turtles: their gleaming shells were black as death. Their eyes were red – a haze of anger in a madman’s dream.
And they moved. They were too fast for any normal turtle, seemingly moments away from John.
Perrien came out.
He had something Linaera had never seen on him: a bow. It was tall, almost as tall as Perrien himself. Its form was curved; and its string was taut with power.
He took out an arrow, notched it, and fired.
The thing whizzed with lightning speed. It found its way into the turtle’s shell, and a caw rang out.
But when Perrien fired a second time, it was ready. Moving with remarkable – and terrifying – speed, it dodged the arrow. The only sound this time was a splash.
Harold was attacking too.
“Gruntas,” he intoned.
A fireball came out from outstretched hands. It struck the turtle.
And fizzled. Just fizzled on its shell like a mere parlour trick.
“We have to get him out!” Harold shouted.
Damon shouted too: “I’ll go with you!”
Linaera knew that they were their most capable fighters. She also knew that these dark, alien creatures were not normal magic: they were something else, something unknown and much more dangerous.
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