Children of Prophecy

by Glynn Stewart

  A moment of hesitation, as he ascertained his memory of the magics and skills he would need, then he was ready. His left hand drifted into ready position and fire flashed from it, blasting the door to smithereens.

  His mind ignored his body as it stepped over the rubble. His eyes and mind swept the room in infinitesimal instant, classifying threats. Lik’nar was by the crumpled body of the Hawk Car’raen, the form of a crouching vulture superimposed over his kneeling form. A single Swarmbeast Mage, his other form squirming with tentacles, stood by the heavy table, eyes focused on Car. One Raven stood with the Vulture, seemingly assisting him. Two Jackal Magi and a second Raven Mage had guarded the door and now reeled back from its destruction.

  He seemed to be moving in molasses, but the others moved like they were enmeshed in tar. His left hand drifted over to send a blast of fire flashing across the room to blast into Lik’nar, killing him, the most powerful of the Chaos Magi, before he could even raise his shields. The Raven Mage who’d been aiding in the torture was blown across the room by the force of the blast, crashing into the floor by the Swarmbeast Mage.

  Even as this was happening, his sword slashed out, almost lazily, and gutted the Raven Mage near the door as he reeled back. The Jackal by him managed to raise his shields before the sword reached him, bouncing it away.

  A sense of mild irritation touched Tal. A single thought sent lightning flickering up and down the blued steel of the longsword’s blade. With the Islander blade now glowing with energy, he launched a backhanded slash with the sword. It sliced through the Jackal’s shield like it wasn’t even there, to bisect the Chaos Mage with a sickening crunch.

  Rainbow-colored chaos fire hammered Tal’s shields for a moment. Without hesitation, he retaliated with normal-looking red flames, which shattered on the Swarmbeast Mage’s shields.

  Tal spun to face the last three Magi, who had gathered themselves together. A Jackal Mage, a Raven Mage and a Swarmbeast Mage; they faced him in the traditional triangle formation of Battlemagi.

  For an eternal moment, he didn’t move. Then he sheathed his blade and stepped forward slightly, raising his voice in the formal greeting and challenge of a Battlemage to Fallen Magi. “Greetings and defiance, Fallen Ones.”

  The three Magi were silent, merely raising their hands as one and sending chaos fire battering at the young Battlemage.

  Tal raised his hand, reforming part of his shield into a funnel. The chaos flame gathered in his hand, in a ball of fire growing larger with every second. After a few moments, he smiled coldly at the Chaos Magi. His shield reformed to normal as he lowered his hand, still holding the ball of multicolored flame. As more flame battered his shields unnoticed, he focused on the ball of fire. It flashed intolerably bright for an eyeblink, and then turned to pure white. He shifted his cupped hand around so it faced the Chaos Magi. With a flick, he flattened his hand.

  A lance of white flame flashed across the room, cutting through the Swarmbeast Mage’s shields like fire through butter. It burned a hole the size of a man’s fist through the Mage’s chest then continued without slowing. The fire hit the wall with an explosion, as several kilograms of basalt were instantly vaporized.

  Waves of heat and shards of rock battered the shields of the three surviving combatants. Car, still slumped half-unconscious on the floor, was protected by the heavy wooden table.

  As the effects of the explosion died down, Tal faced the two remaining Chaos Magi. They began to back away, but Tal stood between them and the door.

  The Death Mage felt nothing as he hurtled lightning at the weaker of the two Magi. The Chaos Mage’s shields flickered, but stabilized as the other Mage threw his power into it in a desperate attempt to save both their lives.

  It failed. A moment after the Raven Mage began shielding the Jackal the lightning suddenly vanished. Before either Chaos Mage could react, fire blasted from Tal’s hands at the Raven Mage. With her power still tied in to the weaker Mage’s shield, the woman lit up like a living torch.

  The last surviving Chaos Mage backed away desperately. His shields were still up, but a Jackal Mage’s shields would be less than paper against the power of a Mage who could do what Tal had done. “Mercy!” he begged. “Mercy, please!”

  Tal’s eyes were cold as they settled onto the pathetic figure, still tightly locked into focus. “There is no mercy for the Fallen,” he said quietly. An immense wave of fire flashed from his raised hands, overwhelming the Jackal’s shields like tissue and incinerating the last of the Fallen Magi.

  With the Chaos Magi dead, Tal slowly released the tight focus he’d maintained throughout the fight. He crumpled to his knees as the life seemed to leave him with it. A moment later, he began to throw up, adding the contents of his stomach to the mess of shattered stone, wood and bodies on the floor of the room.

  Car returned to consciousness with a pounding headache. He touched his head gently, and opened his eyes to a scene he recognized quite well: the inside of a fort sleeping cell. How did I get here? Last thing I remember, Lik’nar was trying to interrogate me.

  Tal, came the answer from Jor’nial. He rescued you.

  There were six Chaos Magi in that room! Car thought in shock.

  Yes. He killed them all, and then he brought you here.

  Car sighed and slowly pulled himself to his feet. His ears caught a sound from outside the door, a schnick, schnick, schick noise. The sound of a sword being sharpened.

  He slowly opened the door; using the focus disciplines he’d learned over a lifetime of wielding magic to ignore the headache. Sitting cross-legged on the other side of the hallway was Tal, Kove’tar’s old Islander blade across his lap as he ran the whetstone over it.

  Car leaned on the side of the door. “Good morning,” he said softly.

  “It’s afternoon, actually,” Tal said distractedly. “You’ve been out for almost a full day.” Tal didn’t look up. He put the whetstone on the ground and picked up a piece of steel wool, starting to polish the blade.

  “Lik’nar?” Car asked. He knew what Jor had said, but he preferred to keep the fact that he had voices in his head under wraps. Besides, he had another reason for asking Tal.

  “Dead,” Tal said flatly, still not looking up from the blade of the Islander sword.

  “The others?” Car asked, knowing the answer now

  “Also dead,” the youth replied harshly. “Nine Fallen Death Magi, one Fallen Life Mage.”

  A silence descended for a moment, broken only by the scratching sound of the steel wool on the blued steel of the sword blade.

  “You want to talk about it?” Car asked.

  “No,” Tal snapped. “They’re dead and I’m not. Nothing else to it.”

  Car nodded slowly, sadly. He stepped out into the hallway and sat down, facing Tal. “It isn’t really, Tal,” he told his adopted son quietly. “Killing is an ugly thing. It is only incidental to our real job, which is keeping people safe. Unfortunately, the only way to do so is often to kill those would harm them.”

  The scratching sound had stopped. Car glanced down, to find that Tal had stopped polishing the blade and was now clenching the steel wool in his fist. He hid a wince of sympathy. Doing that hurt, but sometimes it was the only way you could control something.

  Car leaned back against the wall and waited for his adopted son to speak. Neither of them said anything for a long moment.

  “They never stood a chance,” Tal said suddenly, so softly that Car barely heard him. “None of them did. It was like fighting a sheep or someone’s pet: it can only scratch or hurt you, but you can kill it almost at will.” Small drops of blood began to be visible on Tal’s fist as he clenched the wool. “The last one… he begged me for mercy. He didn’t ask, he begged.” Tears began to slowly leak from the youth’s eyes, water on his face to match the blood on his hand. “And I killed him. I was in full focus; I didn’t even think to stop myself. He was a Jackal Mage, for the Gods’ sakes. He could never in a million years have hurt me; and I
burned him down like he was vermin.”

  Car looked at his son calmly. “Did you throw up afterwards?” he asked gently.

  Tal’s head snapped up, tears still in his eyes. “What?” he demanded.

  “Did you throw up afterwards?” Car repeated. “Did what you had done sicken you?”

  The youth turned away, shaking the tears out of his eyes. “Yes and yes.”

  “Good,” Car said flatly, meeting Tal’s eyes as his apprentice turned back to him, eyes flashing in anger. “From the day you entered that Academy, it has been instilled in you to offer mercy if at all possible. It is instilled in every Battlemage to do so.”

  “That is because non-Magi are so outclassed by us that if we do not, few would survive to be Judged,” Car told his apprentice. “It is a sad fact however, that against our greatest foes we cannot offer mercy. A Swarmbeast, even a Drake, has no comprehension of mercy, compassion or anything even remotely like them. One of them would take your mercy and stab you in the back the instant you turned away.

  “A Swarm-master can be trusted even less than his ‘beasts,” he continued, “for they hate us with a passion you cannot understand. Most especially, we cannot offer mercy to the Fallen. They have already broken the greatest Oath a human can swear. Nothing can bind one of them.”

  “I know,” Tal admitted with a sigh. “Even so, it is sickening.”

  “As it should be,” Car replied firmly. “Never rejoice in the slaying of a foe. To take a life is the worst thing a man or Mage can ever be forced to do.”

  Car’s face turned hard. “Which isn’t going to stop me killing that son of a bitch Jyd’har when I get my hands on him.”

  The hooves of the two horses rang loudly on the cobblestones as Car and Tal approached the gates of the Kahir Citadel. The city of Kahir spread out behind them, cobbled roads and two story stone houses contrasting with the immense ten, even fifteen, story marble and crystal towers. Those towers, constructed by a combination of magic and over two thousand years knowledge of structural engineering, housed the merchant guilds and manufactories.

  The Citadel’s outer wall was impressive, a ten-meter high featureless expanse of smooth gray granite that encircled an area a quarter of a mile across. The Earldom army patrolled the top of the wall, the last fading flow of sunlight glinting off pikes and crossbows.

  The gates themselves were immense constructions of wood and steel, four meters wide and as many high. Each half-door massed several tons and took an immense amount of machinery to move. A pair of fifteen-meter-high towers flanked the gates, each level sporting a pair of immense ballistae.

  Car stopped his horse just in front of the gates and called up, using a touch of Air to make certain the guards heard him, “Open in the name of the High King,” he commanded loudly.

  A moment passed before a voice called down from above: “The High King has no authority here,” it replied. “So take yourself off and shove it, Kingsman.”

  Car felt his anger begin to rise up again, but he forced it down. If things had gone that far, then he must respond as reasonably as possible. He took a deep breath and spoke again, quite softly. Only the magic he was using allowed it to be heard. “I am the Hawk Car’raen,” he informed the speaker softly. “You can either open those gates, or replace them!” To emphasize his point, he let a small flicker of fire flash from his hands, to fizzle out on the gates.

  Silence was his only response, stretching out to the point where he was beginning to reach for the focus necessary to convert the gates to ashes when the gates slowly began to open.

  Car nodded silently. He turned in his stirrups to face Tal. “Tal, I want you to find a Life Mage by the name of Kel’ijo,” he instructed the youth. “She’s the Communicator for the Kahir branch of the High Royal Bank, and a friend. Tell her that the Hawk Car’raen needs her services one more time.”

  The youth, nodded turning his horse away. Car watched him ride down the street towards one of the towers, and then turned back to the gates.

  They were fully open now, so he rode forward through them. A small party, headed by a Captain of Guards, waited just inside them for him.

  “Who the hell do you think you are, riding up here and making threats like that?” the Captain demanded.

  Car said nothing for a moment, merely sitting and looking at the man. When he spoke, his voice was pitched icy low. “I am the Hawk Car’raen,” he repeated flatly. “I will speak with the Earl Jyd’har immediately.”

  The Captain stood his ground, even as his men wavered back. “The Earl does not take visitors at this time of night,” he said firmly.

  He has guts, I’ll give him that, Car thought. “He will see me,” he said aloud, “for I speak with the word of the High Law.” He lowered his gaze to meet the burly Captain of Guards’ eyes. “Summon him, or my Judgment will fall even more heavily upon him than it already will.”

  The soldier met Car’s eyes with only the slightest hint of a quaver. “I will speak with him,” he said finally. “Wait here.” Leaving his men behind to watch Car, he strode into the interior of the Citadel.

  Car shrugged and dismounted, holding the reins of his horse in his left hand. He settled back, leaning on the animal as he waited.

  He didn’t have to wait long. The Captain must have started running as soon as he was out of sight, as he returned within twenty minutes.

  The man inclined his head to Car, then spoke, “My lord the Earl Jyd’har will meet you in the main audience hall. Come,” he ordered, gesturing for Car to follow him and strode into the depths of the Citadel.

  The Captain led him to the main audience hall, an immense chamber at the heart of the Citadel. On entering the room, Car had to stop and blink several times to adjust to the light. Dozens of lamps reflected off polished smooth marble walls and floor.

  Guards lined the walls on each side of the room, flanking a carpeted path from the door to the raised dais at the other end of the room. A single chair, effectively a throne, was placed in the center of that dais, and held Earl Jyd’har of Kahir.

  Car slowly walked across the room to the dais, taking in the man he’d come here to Judge. Jyd’har was a large man, his muscles showing the definition of a man who has spent his life at the sword. A simple golden circlet held back his silvering black hair, exposing features weathered by years of sun and wind.

  As the Battlemage approached the dais, Jyd’har stood up from his chair and eyed Car. “Do men no longer bow in the presence of their betters?” he demanded.

  Car ignored him for a moment, stepping up to the dais. He met the Earl’s eyes and silently arched an eyebrow. Turning back to face the room, he spoke in formal tones. “I am the Hawk Car’raen and I have come to speak Judgment,” he told the members of the court, his magic projecting his quiet words to every corner of the room.

  Since he had entered the room, it had filled up slightly as the nobles of the Citadel heard what was going on and came to see it for themselves. Now those nobles recoiled in fear.

  “Have you not heard, O almighty Hawk?” Jyd’har asked with a laugh. “The Earldom of Kahir no longer answers to the King’s Law.”

  “I do not speak for the King’s Law, I speak for the High Law,” Car said flatly. “Your rebellion is over. Lik’nar is dead.” Car’s voice reverberated throughout the room.

  The Earl’s mouth thinned. “I do not think so, my lord Hawk,” he replied, but his voice trembled as he did. “Even you cannot kill a Battlemage without repercussions.”

  “He was Judged.” The three words fell into the room like stones, silencing everything. A Judgment of a Mage under the High Law had only one possible sentence. Car met Jyd’har’s eyes. “And now I give you my Judgment on you.”

  “You are hereby stripped of your lands, titles and wealth,” Car told him harshly. “They will fall upon your cousin, the Lord Mayor of Kahir, Kirt’har.”

  “You do not have the right to Judge me!” Jyd’har snapped.

  “You allied yourself with th
e Fallen, Jyd’har,” Car snarled, fire flashing into being in his hands. “I have the right to strike you down where you stand!”

  The nobles recoiled away from the man they’d sworn to obey. To ally oneself with the Fallen, with Chaos Magi, was the greatest crime a noble could commit. By doing so, he released anyone from any and all oaths or debts to him, and marked himself as a dead man. To merely strip him of land and wealth was mercy.

  Car turned to the guards who’d brought him into the Citadel. “Take him away,” he ordered.

  The Captain who had escorted Car up nodded, slowly, and drew his sword. Gesturing wordlessly for his men to follow him, he started up the dais.

  “You would betray me?” Jyd’har demanded of them.

  The Captain of Guards shook his head. “If what he says,” he said softly, nodding towards Car’raen, “is true, you have betrayed us. And he is the Hawk Car’raen.”

  “I will never yield to this!” the former Earl yelled, drawing his sword and lunging at the young Guard.

  Car saw him begin the motion. His hand snapped up and fire lanced out, catching the Earl before he was halfway to the young soldier. For a moment, the man’s form was silhouetted in the red flame. Then the silhouette was gone, and only ashes remained of the Earl Jyd’har.

  Car wearily turned to face the crowd. “My Judgment is complete,” he said firmly, using magic to carry his harsh and formal words to every corner of the room. He allowed silence to descend, then slowly turned back to the Captain of Guards and spoke more quietly, “Captain, I will be in the Earl’s office. Bring Kirt’har to me as soon as you can.” He paused for a moment and then continued, “Also, my apprentice will be arriving with a Life Mage Communicator. See that they are brought there as well.”

  The Captain bowed. “It will be done.”

  Twenty minutes later, Car watched with a small grin as Tal led Kell’ijo into the spacious office. His apprentice bore a stunned look, like he’d been hit between the eyes with a rock. Kel’ijo clearly still tended to have that effect on men.