The Ways of Mages: Starfire

by Catherine Beery

  “I think that breath is over.”Duncan said to T’Garen as the screaming intensified. Hundred foot tall flames rose to encircle the camp. Their ruddy red light cast the entire scene in blood. Out of the flames deformed creatures could be seen moving at a fast clip toward them.

  ***

  Trevor McGill paced back and forth in the surprisingly large office. Ryan Shadehand sighed and leaned back in his chair watching the other man with an exasperated expression.“Will you stop? The useless pacing is annoying.”

  “Well, I’m sorry. But I am not one to just sit around as my friends are being attacked!”Trevor snarled.

  “And pacing is any better?”The young thief asked. Trevor shot him a glare and kept pacing. Ryan smiled without humor.“If looks could kill…”

  A cool breeze swirled about the room. Both men froze and looked around. A very, very slight pressure caressed their necks. The next they knew, there was a group of people in the room with them, standing in a circle. A young girl collapsed panting. Ryan stood up, his golden eyes widened in surprise.

  A tall man whom both Ryan and Trevor knew to be Tommy Towel-Taker straightened. He looked about the office and caught sight of Ryan behind his desk.“Really Ryan? My office?”

  Ryan grinned and shrugged.“What can I say? The old man was gone.”Ryan glanced at Trevor.“Thanks for arriving so suddenly. You managed to shut him up.”

  “How did you get here?”Trevor asked, blinking. He ignored Ryan’s jab.

  Bendon clapped his hands and pulled them apart wriggling his fingers. A mischievous smile lit his face.“Magic!”he looked back at the young girl“Is she okay?”he asked.

  Kindra and Tep knelt on either side of the girl. Robert close at hand. The girl had managed to get herself up to her hands and knees. She nodded, still panting. Kindra glanced up at Bendon.“Kairevasigh will be okay. She just used more power then she usually does, I think.”

  “Yes. I nineh odil hen…I zané nau…”Kairevasigh said slipping into her native tongue.

  “Sorry?”Bendon asked. The language had been very close to old Arathin but with differences that made it hard to understand.

  Kairevasigh sat back on her heels and looked in his direction, avoiding eye contact.“I’ll be fine, It’s just that I have never done that before.”

  “You haven’t?”Tep asked.“What would have happen if ye messed up?”

  Kairevasgih laughed dryly.“I haven’t a clue. Maybe nothing? Maybe appearing in a stone wall? Who knows?”She shrugged.

  “And ya didn’t think t’a warn us?”Toliver asked with some concern.

  “It worked, didn’t it?”

  “Yes it did.”Bendon said. He turned to Trevor and Ryan who had been listening with interest.“Has the battle started?”The wizard asked.

  “It has. The Fires appeared half an hour ago.”Trevor answered.

  The blood drained from Bendon’s face. The others of the group showed similar signs of fear.

  “If you wish to help them, then follow me.”Ryan said moving to the door.

  Kairevasigh tried to stand, but her face paled from weakness. Swaying she sat back down.“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

  “You got us here and I thank you for that.”Bendon replied.

  “You can rest here.”Tommy offered. He gave Ryan a look.“Since it is, after all, my office.”Ryan grinned as he opened the door.

  “I’ll be useless out there. I’ll keep an eye on Kair.”Kindra said. She caught the look of worry on Toliver’s face for his young friend.“Tep, could you help me?”Kindra asked the youth.

  Because she had asked without hinting that he was too young to fight, Tep agreed; much to Toliver’s relief. Fighting demons was no place for a youth who had yet to reach manhood.

  Bendon, Robert, Tommy, Toliver and Trevor followed Ryan out the door leaving Kindra and Tep to look after the exhausted Kairevasigh.

  ***

  The screams were deafening. The smell of sulfur and rot was strong enough to make men gag. This provided ample opportunity for the creatures of nightmare to kill them. The Dark Sons had burning red eyes and greedy, clutching limbs. Perela noted the shadowy servants of Maltacken swallowing men whole. They surrounded the Champions of Light with darkness. The knights stood before the darkness with glowing crosses and flashing swords. The light of the crosses made the Dark Sons cringe. But they were quick to use a man’s doubt against him. Some shadows made themselves look like fallen comrades who accused the living for everything from coveting some prize to being the cause of their death. Anything at all that would cause that particular man to falter. Some men were able to stand and disbelieve the lies fed to them. But others cried as they fought, but their tears fed into the spell of doubt the evil was forming. Some others lost their faith to grief and doubt and fell into despair.

  The servants of Troukalck, the Dark Lord of Cruelty laughed at their despair. Cruelty’s Dark Sons slowly killed the men either piece by piece or skinning the man alive, whichever pleased them most at the time. If they skinned the man they would let the sickly claws of Corruption’s servants to caress the dying man’s still beating heart.

  Sickened, Perela would lash out with waves of magic that would normally vaporize every Dark Kin it touched, but this Dark Moon night made them stronger so only those in the direct line of fire perished. The rest only stumbled. Perela had never felt so useless. It took a lot of power to vaporize the couple of Dark Sons that she could. As more and more Dark Sons kept coming, she saved her power to shield the men, giving them time to recover. The only problem was that the power behind the Fires of the Damned ate away at her shields forcing her to drop them. As time passed her ability to hold a shield diminished.

  Duncan, T’Garen and the remaining men were grateful for the brief respites. Duncan and his knights proved to be difficult foes for the Dark Sons. Small spells used made the knights hard to see and resistant to corruption.

  In those instances where Perela’s magic punched a hole in the wall of Dark Sons and knocked a few off balance were when the knights struck hardest. Not that it helped any…the wounded Dark Sons did not die. They grew new limbs to replace those severed. The severed limbs grew bodies even more grotesque then the forms they had lost. The army of light’s situation became even more helpless with every second that passed. More and more Dark Sons poured into the camp from the Fires. It was a sea of evil whose sole goal was to destroy everything in its path. It was like Ryan’s vision. Brave men were separated and killed.

  “Perela! Perela!”A muted voice called. Perela turned and saw that she had somehow drifted away from Duncan. The big blond knight was slashing his way toward her. The cross about his neck glowed as he whispered a prayer or perhaps many prayers. The light of the cross frightened and angered the Dark Sons. They hated it and feared its touch. T’Garen guarded the knight’s back. Other men followed, helping to form a protective circle around Perela so she could, in turn, protect them.

  Perela’s heart seized when she saw how few remained. Of those who had stayed only thirteen remained including Duncan, T’Garen, and Perela herself. Of the one hundred and twenty nine who had stayed to distract the enemy, only thirteen remained. And still the Dark Sons came. Perela raised a shield again. The grotesque Dark Sons clawed at it angry that it kept them from their prey.

  The knights took the opportunity to get a breath and take a drink of water or mulled wine from their flasks. Others tied off wounds received during the fight.

  A mocking voice filled the air making everyone pause and look about. The Dark Sons salivated.“Sister, ah sister…Do you really think you can survive this? Take a look around. So many of your army have fallen. You have no hope against the darkness…”

  “Altana.”Perela muttered. Duncan looked at her sharply, his hand tightened on his sword’s hilt.

  “Perela.”Altana’s voice cooed overly sweet.

  “To answer your question, there is always hope. After all, Light always defeats the darkness.”

  “Truly?”hmm…
I don’t think you are truly aware of the situation you have found yourself in. Your‘light’is failing. It is weak and powerless, after all, light always goes out.”Altana mocked.

  “Then why does it take three Dark Lords on a special night to fight one Light?”Perela heard the Dark Sons growl at her words. “I seem to have struck a nerve.”Perela mused softly.

  “You will die.”Altana fumed.“You will all die. Your God has left you to the Dark’s Mercy!”The or lack thereof remained unsaid, but everyone heard it anyway.

  Perela saw some of the men falter. She straightened. She would not let these men forget who their King of Kings was.“You know not of what you speak, sister. Our God has never left us, nor will He ever leave us. This he has promised us.”

  “Promises are often broken.”Altana replied

  “By the Dark, perhaps. But our God has never broken His promises since before the dawn of time. His strength will never fail though the flesh of man is weak. I pity you sister, for the Darkness will never win. In fact, it has already lost.”Perela’s words reached the men and they stood straighter. The crosses brightened. The darkness quailed from the light.

  With a snarl, three Dark Lords appeared and their dark power bore down on Perela. She lost her hold on her shield, but a flash of light sent the three back to whence they had come. But the shield had failed. The knights were ready, though, revitalized by their faith.

  Duncan fought the creatures of nightmare and hell. He and his men fought bravely, but the simple fact was that the numbers were against them. Men were simply overwhelmed. Duncan stood in a triangle with T’Garen and Henderson. There were four such groups circling about Perela, watching each other’s back and letting one man rest for a time. It was Duncan’s turn to rest. He smiled tiredly at Perela. Suddenly Perela’s face paled and her eyes widened.

  Her cry was lost to the chaos of war. Duncan turned to see Henderson on the ground and a shadowed blade driving toward him. Even as he raised his sword against this incoming threat, Duncan knew that he wouldn’t get his sword up in time. A blur and the blade was gone. In the ruddy light Duncan saw T’Garen grasping the shadowed blade sheathed in his chest.

  ***

  Outside the secret door in the outer wall Ryan turned toward the Wizard known as Zebendon, his face shadowed by the Fires.“There they are. Tell me, what is your plan for getting in?”

  Bendon started moving past Ryan.“I have till I get there to figure it out.”

  “I guess that works.”Ryan muttered as he watched the rest of the group follow after Bendon.“God be with you.”He whispered as he reentered the city. The sounds of the screaming damned became muffled once the door closed. Ryan leaned his head back against the door, the image of the hundred foot flames danced still in his mind’s eye.“May God be with us all.”

  ***

  “No!”Duncan cried as he dragged T’Garen toward Perela. The other triangle formations tightened their rotation; one of which reached Henderson before the enemy. The man on rest pulled the young knight into the safe circle. Henderson was still alive, clutching his bleeding leg, but his pain filled eyes were locked on the stricken T’Garen. Duncan made to pull the shadowed blade from T’Garen’s chest.

  “No.”T’Garen grunted.“Too…late for that.”

  “We need to remove it so Perela can heal you.”Duncan persisted.

  T’Garen smiled sadly,“Do you really think…I would let her waste what magic she has left…saving my sorry hide…when she could be shielding the others? Duncan…”He gasped, his breathing harsher. Duncan felt tears cutting through the grime on his face.“It has been an….honor fighting with you…Don’t cry for me, friend…I am going home to my…King…Stay strong, lad…The kingdom needs you…Thomas will need you…Anna…”The last was so faint that Duncan barely heard it. But he understood. Anna was T’Garen’s wife; a woman who would not see her husband again till she left for Heaven.

  Duncan whispered T’Garen his last rites before crawling over to Henderson. Perela handed him a good chunk of her cloak that she had shredded. Duncan tied a length of it above the weeping gash on the younger knight’s leg hoping to staunch the blood flow. He then wrapped the wound tightly with the rest of the cloth. Henderson grunted in pain, but did not protest.

  When Duncan looked up again it was to see that his men had tightened ranks again. They were practically on top Henderson. The screaming of the Fires intensified. The men were resigned that they would die this night, but they would all fight till the end. The remains of T’Garen their last rally point.

  Suddenly the screaming Fires died.

  Pressure caressed the back of Duncan’s neck before a blast of power rippled through the ranks of Dark Sons. Perela laughed delightedly.“Father.”She smiled simply at Duncan’s questioning look. The Dark Sons screamed and turned toward this new threat. Perela took advantage of their distraction and blasted them again. Unlike when the Fires had burned, every Dark Son her power touched vaporized. She then erected a shield that pushed the Dark Sons away from the twelve remaining men. Soon the group could see Bendon casting waves of magic that burned away hordes of Dark Sons. Near him was Robert wielding his black sword, cutting down swaths of the damned creatures. Defending their backs were Toliver, Tommy, and Trevor.

  Perela let her father and his companions into her shield. Then the two mages continued to blast the remnants of the dark wave. Robert knelt beside Henderson, and still tapping whatever power his sword held, cleaned away the poison from the gash. Then he helped to close it. Trevor dropped to his knees beside T’Garen his head bowed in grief. He then got up and helped Toliver, Tommy, and Robert check the survivors. Duncan tried to help, but they told him to sit and rest.

  “I told you that you needed me.”Trevor grumbled as he checked Duncan.

  Duncan rested his hand on Trevor’s shoulder.“You’re here now. Thanks for coming when you did.”

  Trevor’s eyes darkened.“I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner.”

  “Your place was with the rest of the men. But I am very glad to see you now.” The two then joined the rest of the surviving men in watching the two mages clean up the remains of the Dark Kin army.

  ***

  Altana leaned upon the battlement wall watching with delight as the Fires of the Damned burned. It was like watching one’s child succeeding beyond expectations. Her hand stroked her rounded stomach. Hopefully you will do just as well. She thought at her unborn child. But the child had it easier, she supposed. After all, its only purpose was to house her Lord and Master Maltacken.

  A short man of five feet stood next to her. Some would mistake him to be a child, but that assumption would be their death. His eyes had the maniacal intensity of a vicious predator. His swarthy skin helped him melt into the night. Altana shared a smile with the Proconsul Salvo before turning back to the beautiful flames. The distant screams were music to her ears.

  Suddenly, with no warning, the Fires collapsed as a strange, yet vaguely familiar pressure became more pronounced. Then a familiar pressure replaced it, fingering the back of her neck and she hissed angrily. Her father was interfering yet again. But it was impossible for Bendon to destroy the Flames. He was powerful, but not that powerful. Bright swaths of power cut away at the darkness that was the Dark Sons. The Dark Sons had nowhere to run and thus perished. Some tried to scatter, but they could not out run magic. And in the middle of the wasted field, Altana could just see the glowing light of the monastic knight’s crosses. Some had survived the attack.

  In a rage, Salvo jerked her around. His surprisingly strong fingered hand wrapped around her throat. “YOU have Failed your MASTER for the LAST TIME!”he snarled. A sickly pressure built and suddenly Altana found herself in a room she had never before seen. It was a dark, dark room. Sickly green flames burned sporadically about the circular room. A black round table dominated the room. Bloody runes pulsated on the table. Chairs formed of a chaotic mix of human and animal bones sat about the table. There were twelve of them. On a dais above the others
was a thirteen chair, or was it the first one? Two dragonet skulls served it as armrests.

  More horrific then the chairs was that they were filled with the Dark Lords and Ladies of the Dark Kin Council. All of which were look at her hungrily. She could see her lord and lover as a writhing mass of impotent shadow. Most concerning was the robed figure on the raised chair.

  A soft, slithering voice slipped from under the robed figure’s cowl.“You have failed us, Altana for the third time. I have been patient with you. But no longer.”The last was said in a clipped sharp tone.“Troukalck, Ust’uck.”The Dark Lord said. The two Dark Kin straightened.“She is your plaything for now. You are not to kill her yet or damage the husk she carries. If I decide that she dies, it will be at my pleasure.”

  The two Lords of Darkness inclined their heads before looking over at her. Altana had never truly been scared before. She was now because in their eyes she could see that even if they were limited, there were more creative ways to make her suffer then killing her. She should know this, as she had used a few such tactics herself…

  Chapter Eighteen- Welcome to the Myth

  Arathin- Qwincha, Marlhema

  Jewel rocked in her rocking chair. She was knitting a blanket for next year’s winter, not that winter was terrible on the coast. A blanket made cuddling on a chair with a cat in her lap just that much more cozy. And right now it gave her something to do with her hands. Grim and the other three she had saved from the sea were sleeping. The wounds they had received from the shipwreck were miraculously minimal, but whatever had brought them to Arathin had tired them. So they eat her broths and medicinal teas and slept.

  All the questions she had remained unasked.

  After two thousand years of nothing but nightmares of home it was almost too much to ask her to wait more. But she had to. The man who was her father had to rest. As she thought, her hands worked industrially. Sam-the-Unwise was curled blissfully on her lap under the forming blanket. Other cats were also around. One was patting at the yarn as it wriggled up to her fingers.