The Shadow Of Fallen Gods

by V. R. Cardoso

  “Right away.”

  Persea turned back to the Prince. “Come.”

  She stepped towards the gate and Fadan followed. “I don’t understand,” the Prince said.

  “A mind pairing is a technique that allows mages to pool their minds together in order to cast more… elaborate spells. I’m sure we’ll get around to teaching it to you, eventually.”

  They stepped out of the wall onto a wide, open field, separating them from Intila’s camp. Horns blared, and their enemy began to form defensively, anticipating an attack.

  “You’re saying you’re joining the war.” Fadan couldn’t stop the relieved smile that rose to his lips. “You’re attacking Intila.”

  “There’s very little reason for you to be happy, I’m afraid. We have received grave news from Augusta. It would seem our true enemy has seized control of your father, and thus his authority.”

  Barely any word of that made any sense. “I don’t understand.”

  “There has been an Archon hiding in plain sight in your father’s Imperial Council. Chancellor Vigild. Who knows how long he’s been steering your father’s will.”

  Fadan was rendered speechless. Steering my father’s will? “You mean controlling my father’s mind?”

  “It’s a little more complex than that, but, in a way, yes.”

  “Arch-Mage,” High-Wizard Talladin called. “Mind pairing complete. We await your instruction.”

  Persea nodded over her shoulder.

  “So what happens now?” Fadan asked.

  “Now the real war begins.”

  The Arch-Mage raised both arms, as if in a plea to the skies. Fadan looked back. From the cluster of high-ranking mages standing behind them, to the hundreds of mages atop the walls, all raised their arms. He heard a rumble above, the sound drawing his attention up. The sky darkened, white clouds turning into a roiling grey and spreading at an impossible speed. In less than a handful of breaths, there wasn’t a single patch of blue in sight. The clouds seemed to thicken, growing darker and darker until it seemed like night had fallen.

  Lightning flashed and Fadan shuddered. Portions of clouds slowly began to turn red. At first, it was a faint tint, but it quickly spread until the sky had turned the garish red of fire. The clouds swirled as if forming dozens of tornadoes, and massive fire balls punched through the centre of the whirlpools, hurling furiously to the earth.

  “Goddess…” Fadan muttered.

  “No,” Persea said, her eyes shining like two glowstone crystals. “But close enough.”

  Epilogue - The Eye of the Storm

  Aric halted his horse, Eliran and the rest of his company doing the same behind him. Not all of them had accompanied him to Ragara. Shortly after making land in Akham, Leth and Clea had announced to the rest of the company that they were leaving to take care of personal business. A small argument had ensued, and there had been no shortage of tears, but in the end, everyone wished the two of them good luck and vowed they’d all meet again one day.

  Aric had his doubts.

  Ergon trotted next to him. Aric had recently promoted him to Lieutenant, much to Tharius’ chagrin. “What is it?” he asked.

  Aric pointed at the large statue in the middle of the plaza. “What the heck is that?”

  “What do you mean?” Ergon said. “He’s the Emperor now. He has to have a statue.”

  “He’s not the Emperor yet,” Tharius argued, trotting next to them. “He has to conquer Augusta first.”

  “He’s my little brother, is what he is, and they’re making statues of him now?” Aric chuckled and turned to Eliran. “Can you believe this?”

  “What, are you jealous?”

  Aric laughed. “That must be it, yes.” He shook his reins and his horse trotted forward.

  They made their way through the busy streets of Ragara until they arrived at the steps of the palace.

  Aric dismounted and handed Ergon his reins. “Wait here. I’m sure my brother will find us some decent accommodations.”

  “Ooh, imagine if we got to stay in the palace,” Trissa breathed with barely restrained awe.

  “Yes, we want to stay in the pretty palace! Please, captain?” Lyra added.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Eliran dismounted as well, and the two of them climbed the great staircase. The main gate of the palace was open, but a squadron of Legionaries stood guard outside, and they ordered Aric and Eliran to halt.

  “What’s your business, citizens?” one of the Legionaries, a sergeant, asked.

  “My name is Aric Auron. I’m the Prince’s brother.”

  One of the soldiers behind the sergeant chortled.

  “Of course you are,” the sergeant mused. “And I’m the Supreme-Sister. If you have petitions, you can leave them at the Seneschal’s office.”

  “Well, Supreme-Sister, we do not have a petition, we have—”

  “Aric, behave,” Eliran cut in. She turned to the sergeant and handed him a signet ring. “Arch-Mage Persea is expecting me. This rude gentleman is with me.”

  The sergeant inspected the ring, then returned it and waved them in. “One of the Pages will take you to the Arch-Mage.”

  Once inside, a Page walked up to them, giving them a flourished bow. “My Lord, My Lady, how may help you?”

  “I’m looking for Arch-Mage Persea,” Eliran said.

  “And I’m looking for the Prince,” Aric added.

  “Excellent.” The Page turned to a corner and waved one of his colleagues over. “Our Lord requires an audience with the Prince.”

  “Of course,” the new Page chirped. “Follow me.”

  Aric obeyed, exchanging an amused glance with Eliran, who followed her own Page to her destination.

  The palace of Ragara was small in comparison with the Core Palace of the Citadel, and minuscule compared to Lamash, but it still took them some time in navigating the hallways of the building.

  “How may I announce you, My Lord?”

  “Aric Auron.”

  “Oh, are you somehow related to Lord Doric?”

  Aric halted. “Lord Doric is here?”

  The Page turned, stopping as well, and nodded with a smile.

  “And the Empress?”

  “Of course. Where else would she be?”

  Aric smiled. “Exactly…” He resumed walking, warmth growing in his belly. “In that case, let’s make it a surprise, okay?” He nudged the Page with his elbow. “Wait until you see their faces.”

  * * *

  Eliran and Persea strode across the old tunnels, a small army of High-Wizards, Grand-Sorcerers, and Great-Enchanters following in their wake. Each of them had summoned a blue ball of light, and they flew overhead, spread out above them like a flock of birds.

  “So there’s no one down here anymore?” Eliran asked.

  “There’s no longer any reason,” Persea replied. “And it was never exactly comfortable.”

  They arrived at a large chamber, the light spheres flying up to the high ceiling. The area around them was completely empty. No doors, furniture, or decoration of any kind marked the space. Just a dome of naked rock.

  “The artifacts please, Eliran,” Persea requested.

  The Sorceress had a satchel slung across her body, and she rummaged inside. First, she removed the chalice, its purple metal turned blue by the available light source. Persea collected it with both hands, awe in her eyes.

  “And here’s the dagger,” Eliran said, producing an object wrapped in purple cloth.

  Persea collected it as well. “Excellent. It was indeed excellent work, Eliran. You should be immensely proud.”

  She felt her cheeks warm and her eyes widened. “Thank you…” You didn’t get a compliment like that from Persea every day. Especially not in public.

  The Arch-Mage turned around, her back to Eliran. There came the rustle of robes as the other mages turned in the same direction. Eliran peeked over Persea’s shoulders but saw nothing there. Just the same naked wall as eve
rywhere else in the chamber. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, signaling magic was being used near her, and a slit opened in the face of the rock, blue light pouring through.

  What is happening?

  The slit grew wider as if the edges of the wall were sliding away from each other. Except there was no place for them to slide to. There was no sound of any kind to accompany the movement, not of any mechanism or even that of grinding stone. Nothing.

  The rock stopped moving, leaving a rectangular opening about three feet tall and wider than most double doors. Beyond it, Eliran saw rows upon rows of racks lined with numerous glowstone encrusted artifacts.

  “What is this place?” Eliran asked.

  “A vault, of course,” Persea replied.

  “Wait, you’re storing these? I thought we were destroying them. They’re incredibly dangerous. Their existence alone is a threat.”

  “Don’t be childish, Eliran. It doesn’t matter which god created these, they remain divine creations. Ava knows how much we can learn from them.”

  Eliran was at loss for words. These people were unbelievable. How could they continue making the same mistakes over and over?

  * * *

  There was a knock on the door, and Turmond raised his head from the book he’d been studying. “Yes?”

  The door eased opened and Phaedra peeked inside. “May I?”

  “Wizardess Phaedra.” He smiled. “Of course, come in.”

  “I brought you something.” She walked into the room, stopped in front of his desk, and showed him a piece of parchment. “You passed Basic Enchanting!”

  “Fire take me!” Turmond snatched the parchment, reading it over. “At long last, right? I’m going to frame this.”

  Phaedra giggled. “We all learn at our own pace. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

  “Tell that to High-Wizard Talladin,” he muttered.

  She motioned her chin towards the book in front of him. “Are you studying?”

  “Yes, actually. I have Visions and Prophecies next week.”

  Phaedra grimaced. “Ugh, that’s the worst. I’ll leave you to it, then. Just wanted to give you the good news.”

  “Thank you so much, Wizardess Phaedra.”

  “You know you can just call me Phaedra, right?” she said, stepping to the door.

  “I know, Wizardess Phaedra.”

  She smiled, shook her head, and left, closing the door behind her.

  Turmond took another look at the certificate in his hands, then rolled it and placed it inside a drawer in his desk. As he closed the drawer, something in his mind snapped; like a bell, but with no actual sound. He opened the drawer again, shoved the certificate out of the way, and picked up the small, portable hypervisor inside, the glowstone crystals already glowing. He waved a hand across its surface, a hooded figure appearing.

  “I have good news, Turmond.” The figure’s voice was cracked and raspy like he had spent his whole life screaming. “You have done great work, so far. But it is time to end your mission.”

  Turmond nodded. “Yes, master.”

  “You know what to do. May Fyr keep you.”

  “She burns within me.”

  The Wounds in the Sky story continues in Book 3 – Beneath the Raining Fire.

  Can’t wait for the next book in the series?

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  Also by V.R. Cardoso

  Dragon Dodgers

  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OW2ATIK

  In a time when dragons ruled the land, only a brave few dared to cross the great outdoors - Surface Runners.

  In this prequel to the Wounds in the Sky series, follow the adventures of the Dragon Dodgers, a Company of Surface Runners looking for riches and glory, and discover what pre-historic Arkhemia was like.