Children of Prophecy

by Glynn Stewart

Koris bowed deeply. He looked at Brea and shrugged apologetically. Moments later, he was giving orders to his crew. The Islanders leaped to obey, pulling ropes to fold in the sails and twist the ships rudder.

  The hooded Mage returned his regard to Brea. “My lady, I will reveal myself to the High Council and to no-one else,” he told her softly. She had the feeling that his hidden eyes were burning into hers like those of the Hawk he’d been moments before. “If you truly want to know who I am, try to break the glamor.”

  She took him up on it. Her powers flashed out, all the power of one of the most powerful Life Magi in generations. It impacted upon the spell holding the glamor in place, searching for the weaknesses to break.

  There were none. Her spell ran off the other Mage’s defenses like water off a duck’s back. She stepped back involuntarily, breathing heavily.

  “As I said, Lady Brea’ahrn, I will reveal myself to the Councils, and to no-one until I have been acknowledged by them,” he repeated. “I understand that you want to help the people in the north,” he continued, his voice soft, “but your death would not aid them, and the Chaos Magi raiding there would hunt you down specifically. We must return south.”

  Brea turned away from the Mage Lord and nodded, sharply, once.

  Sailing against the wind, with most of their motive force being provided by the current, it took the boat seven days to reach the Deoran docks. In all that time, Brea had not seen the Black Lord move from where he sat, meditating, at the bow of the boat. He’d spoken to no-one, and ignored any attempt to speak to him. As far as Brea knew, he hadn’t even eaten.

  Well, he has to move now. We’re at the docks! Brea wasn’t too certain, however, as she watched the unmoving figure.

  The moment the boat drew near the docks, she saw him stand and walk over to where the ship’s crew was hauling on the tie-ropes to lend a hand. He still said nothing, and he didn’t appear to be using any magic, merely pulling with them.

  It was a matter of minutes before the boat was alongside the dock. Brea stood and walked forward to the gangplank.

  “Lady Brea’ahrn,” the Black Lord said from behind her as she stepped onto the bare wood.

  She turned. “Yes, my lord?” she answered politely.

  “I must request your aid as a guide to the castle,” he told her courteously. “I must speak with your father.”

  Oh, he’s just going to love that. The Earl Jil’nart and his anti-Mage faction had continued to gain influence at court, despite the minor setback of Brea refusing to marry Shel’nart. They would not be pleased at this.

  None of this showed on her face. She merely nodded. “Very well, my Lord.”

  When they entered the Citadel, a flustered Kings-Captain met them. “Princess Brea’ahrn!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing back?” His eyes flicked to the Black Lord. “And who is this?”

  The soldier’s wary tone was understandable. The Black Lord wore robes identical to those of a Battlemage – except his were black. There was a very specific symbolism to the white robes, and the thought of what the black robes should mean – power unrestricted by any oath – should scare the man.

  “I need to speak with my father, captain,” Brea responded, evading both questions. “It is of the utmost importance.”

  The captain began to look around nervously. “He is in a meeting with the Battle Lord and the Lady of Life,” he admitted hesitantly.

  “Perfect,” Brea heard the Black Lord say. “Take us there.”

  The Kingsman looked at Brea. She shrugged. “As he said, take us there,” she told him.

  He bowed obediently. “Your wish, Lady Brea’ahrn.”

  Brea led the Black Lord into the conference room hesitatingly. As the door opened, her father looked up and saw her.

  “Brea’ahrn!” he exclaimed, startled. “What are you doing back?”

  “The boat was attacked. The Magi of my escort were killed,” Brea told him, inhaling sharply to help drive past the sudden surge of emotion as she remembered the feeling of those Magi dying… to save her. “Only his,” she gestured at the Black Lord, “intervention managed to save us.”

  “Attacked?” Shej’mahi said from behind Kelt’ahrn, incredulously.

  “Attacked,” the Black Lord confirmed. “One of the minor passes has been seized, I’m not sure which one, and the Swarm is using it to raid across the mountains. They were specifically hunting Brea’ahrn.”

  “Who is this, Brea?” her father asked.

  “He has refused to tell me his name,” she replied.

  Her father turned to him. “Mage, for what you have done, I owe you a debt,” he said quietly. “Who is it I have to thank?”

  “I cannot reveal that yet, my liege,” the Black Lord replied. “It is not yet time.”

  Kelt was taken aback, but Shej cut in. “You said they were hunting Brea?” he demanded.

  “Yes, they were,” the Lord told him simply.

  “But that sounds like they were given a mission,” Shej said, his voice strange. “That would mean that someone had taken up leadership of the Swarm.” The Battle Lord seemed to simply be wondering aloud.

  “It does,” the cloaked figure said simply. “Someone has. I cannot tell more to anything less than the full Council of Eleven,” the Black Lord’s voice was calm, for someone making a nearly impossible demand.

  “Who do you think you are, to request that?” the Lady spat.

  “I think I am a Mage,” the Lord said calmly. “I invoke Mage Right, to present my case before the High Council.”

  “That right is intended for trials, not for making presentations,” Shej said.

  Brea found herself speaking up: “Actually, it is also intended for Magi to present important information before the highest power of the Kingdom of Vishni,” she cut into the burgeoning argument. “He does have the right.”

  She felt the Black Lord’s hidden eyes on her, and looked up to meet his gaze calmly. The cowl faced her for a silent moment, but then moved in what was quite definitely a nod.

  “Very well. Whoever you are, Mage, you will speak before the High Council in one hour,” Shej’mahi declared, then paused. “Bring Brea’ahrn. I feel her place in this is not yet done.”

  Both Brea and the Black Lord bowed, and he preceded her out of the room.

  Brea looked around the massive chamber in awe. Not at the room itself, she’d seen the High Citadel’s Grand Hall before, but at the number of people who’d gathered in a single hour.

  At the center of the hall stood a table that was only brought out for the assembly of the High Council of Vishni. Eleven chairs had been placed around it; one at the head for the King, three on one side for the Council of Death Magi, and seven on the other for the Council of Life Magi.

  A massive crowd filled the edges of the room and the balconies above it. Courtiers, nobles, soldiers and Magi had all come to see the High Council.

  Her eyes settled on the man who’d caused all this. Of all the people in this room, she alone knew that he was the Black Lord. She wondered what else he would announce beyond that. At the very least, she hoped to work out just who he reminded her so strongly of.

  The rustling conversations faded as the doors opened. A moment later, silence reigned supreme as High King Kelt’ahrn of the Kingdom of Vishni led the Councils of the Magi in to the room. Their footsteps rang in the silence as they walked to the table, each man and woman taking their place, standing behind their chair.

  “The High Council of the Kingdom of Vishni, being the King and the Councils of the Magi assembled, is now in session,” Kelt’ahrn announced, his voice ringing across the chamber. The Councilors sat.

  “Let the petitioner approach the table,” Shej’mahi said, the words carrying through the entire chamber.

  Brea watched as the Black Lord approached the Council, his face still shielded from view by his hood and glamor. The front of his hood turned to face them.

  “I have claimed Mage Right to speak before this Council,” he sa
id. He spoke quietly, but his voice carried throughout the room, “On a matter of the utmost importance. It is my duty to inform you, and the people of Vishni, that the Hawk Lord has come again.”

  The silence in the room finally ended in a near-roar of conversation. The Lady of Life, second only to the Eldest in the Councils of Life Magi, surged to her feet.

  “Impossible,” she snapped, her sharp voice clearly heard over the hubbub. “The Hawk Lord is prophesied to bear the Hawk Amulet, and that is carried by the Hawk Car’raen.”

  “The Hawk Car’raen is dead,” the Black Lord told them. His voice was no louder than it had been before, but it cut through the hubbub like a knife.

  “What do you mean, dead?” Brea heard Shej’mahi demand.

  “He died at the Pass of Pillars, fighting the Four in the name of this Council and this Kingdom,” the black-clad Mage told them calmly. “He fought bravely, but he could not stand alone against their strength. They slew him and took the Amulet from him.”

  “If they took the Amulet from him, how can the Hawk Lord have come?” the Lady demanded.

  “Because the Rider Mau’reek is dead, and the Amulet was taken from her in turn,” the figure replied. His voice had yet to increase in volume, yet his words somehow silenced the crowd and Council both. “Car’raen is dead, but there is still a Hawk. A Lord has risen among the Swarm and he seeks our destruction, but there is yet one who can face him. There is a Hawk Lord.”

  “And who do you claim is this Lord?” the Lady snapped, her voice coarse in the silence of the chamber.

  “Me,” the hooded figure said flatly. “I am the Hawk Lord Reborn. I am Death personified.” As Brea watched, the Black Lord raised his hands to his hood and threw it back. “I am the Black Lord Tal’raen!”

  And Brea drew in her breath with everyone else as she finally remembered the visions that had so confused her when she’d met Tal’raen.

  The Black Lord Tal’raen, the Hawk Lord Reborn and Protector of the Kingdom of Vishni, surveyed the silenced chamber, and spoke again. The words were his, but the message, the commands – those came from the Hawks who had come before. Through them, he knew what to tell the Council.

  “The Time is upon us, ladies and gentlemen,” he told them. “The Drake Lord has come again as well. I have met him. Car’raen fought him twice, and lost both times – before he took up the Dragon Scepter. Even as we speak, he will be gathering the Swarm under banner of chaos unleashed and preparing for war. Already raiders have crossed the mountains and have assaulted the northern cities. We must stand as one, or be lost.”

  He paused, glancing around the room again. He didn’t want to do this. The duty of the Black Lord was clear, the oaths certain, his destiny pre-ordained. Tal had never liked being constrained, and certainly not by men a millennium dead.

  And yet, what was prophesied, what was clear, was the only way he could save his people, defend his Kingdom, and fulfill his oath. He had no choice.

  “In times such as these,” he continued, softly but projecting his voice so everyone in the hall heard him, “we must be led by one man, not eleven. I am the Black Lord, the Hawk Lord come again, and I demand your allegiance. Do I have it, or do I fight alone?”

  “You fight alone!” a voice shouted from the gallery. Tal slowly turned to face it, to find that the speaker had stepped out of the crowd.

  “Earl Jil’nart. I fail to see where you have any authority in this chamber,” Tal said calmly.

  “I have the right to speak,” Jil’nart snarled, “when they,” his angry gesture took in the whole Council, “are preparing to sell everything we’ve built down the creek on the word of one Mage. I say you lie; ‘Black Lord.’“

  “And I say you are a fool,” Tal replied, his voice not changing at all. “We appear to be at an impasse.” He turned to face the Council. “As the good Earl suggests, in his own offensive way, you believe you have only my word that what I say is true is true. Therefore, I will supply some evidence.”

  If they won’t believe what I say, how about what I show? his thoughts snarled. He raised his hand, binding Air around it for the spell he sought to cast. He flicked his hand in a circular gesture, and an image appeared above the Council table, drawing all eyes into it.

  Thunder crashed, and two pillars of lightning flashed down. They linked sky to ground in a solid stream, brilliant shades of purple flickering up and down them. A figure, clad in a hooded purple robe, appeared between them, letting the purple light shine over him.

  Suddenly, without warning, he moved. He rose slightly off the ground, and then began to glide forward. His pillars of lightning came with him as he passed between the rearward Riders, into the center of the triangle.

  The lead Rider turned back to face him, and bowed. A rustle broke the silence of the crowded Magi. The Rider retired, his drake sliding around the shimmering pillars of chaos lightning.

  The figure walked forwards, until he stood before a single line of Riders. The lightning pillars flickered beside him as he rose entirely off the ground. He stopped, floating in the air, to speak. His voice was calm and quiet, in sharp contrast to the fury of his entrance. “I am the Chaos Master,” he told the assembled host. “I am the Drake Lord Reborn. I am the Lord of the Swarm. I am Stret’sar, and I am your master.”

  Someone below shouted out. “A fancy entrance doesn’t make you Lord of the Swarm!”

  “Does this?” the Lord of the Swarm said, his voice calm as he raised the Scepter of the Dragon into the air, letting it shine in the light of the pillars.

  The crowd gathered below the hovering figure seemed to rustle in shock.

  “How do we know you’re not a fake, propped up by the Riders to regain their fading power?” the heckler demanded.

  Stret’sar’s eyes were cold. “You ask for proof?” he said aloud. “Very well.”

  The scepter rose from its resting-place at the Lord of the Swarm’s side. A moment later, purple light shot from its eyes, catching the heckling Chaos Mage in the chest. The Mage gasped harshly and screamed. A moment later, he collapsed.

  “Does anyone else need proof of who I am?” the Lord of the Swarm demanded, his eyes glowing purple with absorbed life energy.

  “Is that enough for you?” Tal said softly, releasing the vision he had spellbound the room with. “He exists. He will come for all of us, to finish what the Drake Lord and the Four began – our destruction.”

  Most of the people in the chamber were still staring in shock at the air where the image had appeared, but it appeared the Earl Jil’nart was made of sterner stuff.

  “I see illusions and pictures,” he spat. “I see no proof.”

  “Then you are a fool, Jil’nart,” a voice from the Council table snapped. Tal turned to see Shej’mahi standing. The blood was drained from the old Mage’s face, but he spoke on. “There is no falsehood; any Mage can guarantee you that. These events occurred at the shek’maji’hil less than ten days ago.” Tal watched as the old Mage turned from the crowd to face the rest of the Council. “I move that we accept Tal’raen as the Hawk Lord, with all the authorities and responsibilities inherent in that position.” That meant absolute authority, over the entire Kingdom of Vishni – and its inevitable corollary, absolute responsibility for the entire Kingdom.

  “Seconded,” the Eldest said, before any of the others could speak.

  “Very well,” Kelt’ahrn said. “Vote. All in favor.”

  The first ‘aye’ was Shej’mahi. The second was the Eldest. The third was Kelt’ahrn himself. The others came more slowly.

  Finally only the Lady of Life remained, staring stubbornly at Tal. He inclined his head to her, and watched as her eyes flickered around the Council table, meeting each of the other members in turn.

  “Aye,” she finally said, sounding as if the word had been torn from her with iron whips.

  “By unanimous account,” Kelt’ahrn said slowly, “the Hawk Mage Tal’raen is hereby accepted by this Council as the Hawk Lord’s success
or, the sworn Protector of the Kingdom of Vishni and the Black Lord.” The High King of Vishni stood from his chair, and sank to one knee in front of Tal’raen. The only other man the High King had ever knelt to had been the Hawk Lord Shar’tell.

  The other members of the High Council followed, until all eleven of the leaders of Vishni were kneeling before Tal.

  “Oh, get up,” Tal said, a euphoria running under his voice as the tension that had been building up drained away. There would be other problems to face, but one of his greatest possible stumbling blocks had just been removed.

  “I will be meeting with both Councils in the immediate future,” he told them, “but for the moment, the Kingdom must continue as it always has. If we begin to break our nation so that we may face the Swarm, they have already begun to win.”

  Kelt’ahrn stood. He took up the gavel of the High King, and hit it against the table once. “This meeting of the High Council of the Kingdom of Vishni is adjourned,” he said formally, then paused before continuing with words unused for nearly a thousand years, “by the will of the Hawk Lord.”

  Tal bowed to the Councilors, and led the way out of the Grand Hall.

  Brea pulled her cloak tighter about herself as she approached the main doors of the Hawk Manse, residence of the Hawk in the High City, and now residence of the Black Lord. Two blue-clad Kingsmen stood behind her, bodyguards assigned at her father’s insistence.

  A similar pair of soldiers stood guard outside the Manse’s doors. They bowed as she approached. “Milady Brea’ahrn. Is there something we can do for you?” one of them asked.

  Brea sighed, the sound mostly hidden by the evening wind. Over a day had passed since Tal had revealed himself and been granted authority over the entire Kingdom. She’d waited for him to come speak to her, but she wasn’t prepared to wait any longer. “Yes, there is,” she said quietly. “Is Lord Tal’raen home?”