Magefall

by Stephen Aryan

  “You’ve had better training than them. So why don’t you leave?”

  “And go where?” said Tianne. He made it sound so simple.

  “I heard about Wren’s community. It sounded like she was helping people.”

  Tianne shook her head. “I can’t abandon the others. They’re not evil, they’re just drunk on power.”

  “Are you their keeper? Their mother?” he asked. She wasn’t either but Tianne still felt responsible for them.

  “You made a mistake. Stop punishing yourself,” said Garvey. “You don’t need to pay penance for the rest of your life by staying here. You can just walk away.”

  “Why?” said Tianne. In all the time she’d been at the Red Tower he’d never spoken to her this way before. He’d endured much in the last few weeks but it seemed like a dramatic and sudden change. It was as if she were talking to a completely different person. “Why are you here?”

  “I was captured.”

  “Now who’s lying?” said Tianne, surprising herself. She would never have dared speak to him like this in the past. “I can feel your connection to the Source. It’s just as strong. Why would you let yourself be subdued and locked in a cell? Why would you let someone blind you? Is this all part of some bigger plan?”

  Garvey’s smile showed too many teeth and even now he still had the power to unnerve her. “Those are the right questions.” He turned his face away and coughed up something that he spat on the floor of his stinking cell. “Forgive yourself and leave Zecorria. Go back to Wren and help her create something new. She will welcome you back with open arms. You made a mistake, but you can choose something new. It’s not too late.”

  “Is this your penance?” she asked, gesturing at the cell. “Are you punishing yourself for what you did?”

  “Yes, but I never imagined what it would reveal.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither did I,” admitted Garvey. “Not until now.”

  In spite of everything she saw him grin. Tianne felt as confused as ever about him. She wanted to hate Garvey for what he’d done, murdering innocent people and his treatment towards all of the students at the school. But part of her was beginning to realise she’d never really known him at all.

  Feeling overwhelmed, she hurried away from the cells and made the slow ascent back to her room. Just as she was rounding a corner Tianne ran into someone coming the other way.

  “Are you all right?” asked Kalina.

  Tianne didn’t know how to explain what she was feeling. The guilt. The self-loathing and anger churning inside about her parents and the Regent. She tried to put some of it into words, but failed and found herself crying.

  Kalina pulled her close. “What happened?”

  “I went to see Garvey,” she managed to say between sobs. Kalina swore under her breath, blaming him for her current state of mind. Tianne said nothing as it was far easier than telling her the truth. She couldn’t trust what Garvey had said to her. He was an expert at lying and deception, but one fact remained. It had been a grave mistake coming back to Zecorria. She had to escape as soon as possible.

  CHAPTER 38

  As Wren had expected, Boros’s hatred for her meant she couldn’t move on without getting revenge. Her pride wouldn’t allow it. But after their previous encounters, Wren didn’t presume that rage had made her enemy reckless or stupid.

  After the destruction of her camp, Boros and the surviving raiders had fled, but Wren was confident they wouldn’t have gone far. Once she and her friends had gathered up the horses they set off for home, taking the most direct route. Laila had noticed the wide trail they were leaving and had commented about it being easy to follow.

  “That’s the idea,” said Wren.

  At least fifty raiders were now standing in line waiting for the order to attack. Boros was at the centre of the line with a bow in one hand and a grim expression on her face. Wren wasn’t sure how Boros expected this to be any different from their last battle, but she was ready for the unexpected.

  Beside Wren were half a dozen young mages and Leonie the blacksmith.

  As she’d expected the raiders had followed their tracks all the way back to their community. And now they were trapped at the mouth of their valley with no way out, except to retreat or to go through the raiders. Or so it seemed.

  One raider struck flint and tinder, setting fire to a rag before moving down the line, lighting arrows. Even from where she stood Wren could feel the waves of hatred rolling off Boros. She was going to throw everything into this fight. There would be no retreat and no mercy.

  “Ready,” shouted Boros, raising her own bow with its flaming arrow. Half of the raiders followed her lead while the others drew their weapons. “Loose then shoot at will!” she shouted. Drawing back her bow, Boros sent her arrow high and more followed, arcing up into the sky. Wren and the others tracked their movement and when they reached their peak she tapped Kimme on the shoulder. She raised both hands and tightened her fists, instantly extinguishing the flames. Making a twisting motion with one hand Kimme shattered all the arrows as they began their descent. Laila wove a shield above their heads while around them bits of wood and metal began to rain down like a freak storm.

  While Kimme was doing that half of the raiders began to charge with spears and swords held ready. The archers stayed back and sent more volleys as fast as they could. Boros had dropped her bow and now ran forward with the others. No doubt she wanted the pleasure of being the one to kill Wren herself.

  “Can you manage the arrows?” said Wren.

  “We’ll be fine,” said Kimme, smiling at Laila who was still nervous about using her magic. “You take care of the others.”

  “Toree, watch for anyone trying to throw something,” Wren warned him. It was possible one of the raiders running towards them might throw a dagger, a spear or even have a crossbow. As the raiders approached Wren noticed they were all carrying a water pouch. Normally it wouldn’t have been something that stood out in her mind but it was a strange thing to have when going into battle. And for every single raider to have one was even stranger.

  She expected Boros and the others to charge until they were able to use their weapons. To prevent that Wren nudged the other young mages beside her to do as they had practised. Working together they wove a wide shield six feet in front that extended across the mouth of the valley. To the naked eye there was nothing to see. No disturbance in the air to show its presence, but if the raiders kept running they would rebound off it as if they had run straight into a wall. As predicted the first raider smashed into it face first, spraying blood and teeth across the invisible barrier. The others slowed and then stopped, feeling along the shield to find the edge. When they realised the shield extended to both sides of the valley entrance she thought they would retreat.

  “Time for a drink,” said Boros with a feral grin. All of the raiders beside her uncorked their waterskins and splashed the contents all over the shield. The thick viscous fluid made it difficult to see what they were doing and soon there was a solid black wall. They could drop the shield, rendering the sticky liquid useless but it would also mean they were open to attack.

  “What’s she doing?” asked Kimme.

  A horrible thought started to creep into the back of Wren’s mind. “Get ready to run,” she yelled at those beside her.

  A few more arrows rained down from overhead but Laila’s shield kept them at bay. When flaming arrows fell they too were instantly destroyed upon impact, extinguishing the flames. Then one of the arrows struck the sticky black wall.

  With a roar and a surge of bright yellow fire the combined shield burst into flames. The three mages beside Wren screamed as they felt part of the heat through their connection to the Source. Normally fire would rebound from a shield, but this was in permanent contact with an extension of their senses. The smoke and heat were also a problem, making everyone cough and splutter.

  “It burns,” said one of the young mages, rubbing th
e skin on her arms, looking for blisters.

  “Drop the shield and run. All of you, go now,” she ordered everyone.

  The combined shield vanished instantly and the others ran. Without the shield to hold it upright the flames died down a little but not completely. Some of the black substance had been consumed but the rest fell to the ground in a flaming line. Wren summoned a gentle wind and sent the smoke back towards the raiders, aiding their retreat.

  Boros had won the first round.

  Boros sneered as the girl and her friends ran from the fire.

  So far she’d only seen six mages and it was beginning to make her wonder how many there really were. Ten or twelve at most was her best guess. Despite the wind at her back the smoke blew into Boros’s face, but she told her people to hold their position.

  Caution. Especially now when it seemed as if victory was so close. She’d celebrate as hard as everyone else when the girl’s head was mounted on a pike. Then she’d wave up at her lifeless eyes and raise a mug of ale.

  The smoke continued to drift towards her and the others but eventually the fire burned itself out. The unnatural wind stopped and she signalled for her raiders to form up. Holding shields in front and weapons at the ready, they slowly walked down the path into the valley. Two groups of six went ahead. The rest stayed back with Boros in case it was a trap.

  Before showing herself Boros had studied the valley. There was only one way in and one way out. If this next assault went badly she would pull back and starve out the girl and her friends. Mages or not, they still needed to eat. It wasn’t the most heroic of victories but she didn’t care and neither did her people. Once the girl and her friends were dead they could go back to collecting a tithe from every town and village in the west of Shael. Word was already beginning to spread about what she’d achieved. The law was tougher in other countries and Shael was looking more appealing all the time for bandits. With enough bodies she could expand her territory and push further east. But all of that was for tomorrow.

  The first twelve went into the valley and didn’t return. There were no cries of alarm or sounds of battle. After waiting a while Boros realised they weren’t coming out. They were simply gone. It was a trap. The girl probably had all her people waiting in the valley below.

  In the distance behind her a horn began to blare, over and over again. The ground started to shake and turning around she saw at least fifty riders coming towards her. Boros didn’t recognise any of them but there were many young faces. She didn’t believe all of them could be mages and intended to test her theory. If the girl expected her to run at their numbers she was going to be very disappointed.

  “Archers, form up,” she shouted, shoving those who moved too slowly. “Ready.” She nocked an arrow and looked to her left and right, checking the line. They were scared but were still following her orders.

  As the riders drew closer she judged the distance and then waited, her bow held ready. Just before they were in range the riders slowed and then stopped. At the centre of the line was a big woman with short blonde hair who seemed to be their leader. Oddly she wasn’t carrying a weapon and neither were those beside her. Leaving the horses behind, the line of strangers started to walk towards her. They were making this too easy.

  “Loose,” shouted Boros, drawing and then releasing in one smooth motion. She nocked a second arrow and loosed again before stopping to see the impact. The big woman raised her arms and all the arrows in flight crumbled to dust. All along the line the enemy raised their hands and made strange twisting motions with their fists. Boros cried out in surprise as her bow snapped in three places. Beside her the others were all suffering the same fate as every bow was destroyed.

  The mages continued to march forward and now Boros could see the expressions on their faces. Most of them were scared. They were just children playing at war. They knew nothing about suffering but she was happy to teach them.

  “Prepare to charge,” said Boros, drawing her sword and a dagger. With a great clattering of metal she heard others readying themselves.

  “Fire!” someone shouted. Boros searched for the blaze but couldn’t see anything. Then a six-foot wall of fire rose from the ground in front of the big woman at the front. The flames were bright blue but seemed like a normal fire as she could see it scorching the earth. Those beside her were waving their hands about as well and more fire appeared, creating a wall that began to stretch the full length of the line.

  The collective heat from the flames reached Boros and she winced. The smell of burned grass and hot soil flooded her nostrils. Grey smoke rose up from the wall of fire as it burned the earth. The man beside her began to cough and splutter. Boros knew others would start to falter as well if she couldn’t end the fight quickly. She needed to test the strength of the flames.

  “Barker, break through the wall,” she said to one of her men. He was big and strong and dumb as a rock. With a feral grin he hefted his axe and charged at the mages. The other raiders cheered and bashed their weapons together, creating a huge din.

  Barker bellowed as he reached the fire and jumped. He passed through the fire and disappeared. Boros and the others fell silent and waited. Less than two heartbeats later he reappeared wreathed in flames. Screaming like a wounded pig he raced back towards them trailing black smoke. His weapon was forgotten as he tried to put out the flames with his hands before he burned to death.

  Boros noted Barker was coming straight towards her and swung at him with her sword. She caught him on the temple with the flat of her blade and he dropped to the ground like a stone. She and several others tried to smother the flames with their coats but then something worse started to happen. The blue fire spread. It was far too sticky for normal fire and seemed to jump from one piece of clothing to another as if it had a mind of its own. Boros dropped her coat and tried her waterskin instead but the fire just hissed and continued to rage as if she’d poured lantern oil instead.

  “Leave him,” she told the others who stepped back from Barker. He’d stopped screaming now but his body continued to burn like a candle.

  “Forward,” shouted the big woman and the mages all moved six paces towards them. And with them came the wall of fire. It crawled across the ground, bending in places and occasionally showing gaps that were quickly plugged.

  Creating the wall seemed a challenge in itself. Moving it was something else entirely. Those gaps suggested there were weak links among them and that was something she could use.

  “Take three men and go right,” she said, tapping one of her raiders. “Take three and go left,” she said to someone else. “And make plenty of noise.”

  As her people split up Boros felt something slap her across the shoulders which sent her tumbling to her knees. Behind her, coming out of the valley, were the girl and the other five mages. All of them were using their magic as people all along her line started falling over for no apparent reason.

  Those trying to get around the wall of fire were lifted off the ground by invisible hands and thrown backwards towards the rest of the group. In front the fire continued to creep forward. Behind Boros the girl and her friends were keeping her people off balance. Time was running out.

  Boros reached under her shirt and passed a necklace to the man beside her. “Jarke, this necklace will protect you from the fire. I want you to charge through and kill the big woman in the middle. We’ll be right behind you.”

  As she’d expected Jarke was dubious. It was a plain silver chain with a simple oval-shaped bronze locket. “Why? What’s special about it?”

  Boros leaned in closer and whispered. “It’s magic. The locket itself is normal, but what’s inside is special. Remember last year, when you asked me what I spent all my money on? This is it.”

  Some of his suspicion began to fade. “All of it? On that?”

  “I swear by the Maker.” Boros passed it across to him but held onto the chain. “I want it back after. You’re not keeping it.” His greedy little eyes focused on the
locket and he licked his lips.

  She waited until he agreed to return it before letting go. They were still losing the fight. Her people were being thrown off balance and knocked over like drunkards. No sooner had they regained their footing they were sent stumbling again.

  Jarke slipped the chain over his head, took a deep breath and drew his sword. “I’m right behind you,” said Boros, pulling two raiders close to her. “We all are.” Jarke charged at the wall of flame screaming like a maniac. She waited a few seconds before following behind. As she’d expected the moment he touched the fire he began to scream and tried to move backwards. Boros hamstrung him from behind and he fell forward, temporarily blocking the fire and creating an opening. She jumped through and several others followed in her wake.

  The mages were surprised and scared. This wasn’t something they had anticipated. Some of them began to scream as she raced towards them with weapons drawn. Something struck Boros on her right shoulder, numbing her arm, but she held onto her dagger. With her left she hacked at the nearest person, cutting down a teenage boy, her blade biting into his neck. As blood spurted across her face the screaming intensified all around as her people went to work.

  Something gripped Boros around the neck and she was lifted into the air. It felt like a rope but there was nothing to see. Behind her the fire continued to rage. Black spots danced in front of her eyes and she looked around to see who was doing this to her. One girl was staring at her with a fierce expression. Boros focused on her and threw her dagger. Her arm was still numb and her throw wide but the girl panicked and the pressure vanished.

  Boros landed badly, twisting one ankle, but quickly scrambled to her feet. She was almost out of time and out of luck. A fist slammed into her jaw, spinning her head around. Before she could recover another struck her in the stomach, knocking the air from her body. The force was so strong she fell to her knees and began to retch, spitting bile and blood onto the ground. She wouldn’t give up. This couldn’t be the end. She tried to get up but her arms and legs wouldn’t support her weight and she flopped down onto her face.