Children of Prophecy

by Glynn Stewart

  She bowed her head in despair and loss, tears running down her cheeks onto the blood-soaked ground. “Take up the banner,” she ordered him softly. She stood, watching the captain as he obeyed her. “You are indeed correct, King’s… no…. Queen’s-Captain Mar’tell. While I live, my House has not yet fallen.”

  Even as she stood, a cry was heard over the battlefield, “Fall back! Fall back and reform!”

  “Tal?” she said softly.

  Mar’tell looked up. “Must be, milady,” he agreed. The captain looked around. “Milady, we are far too deep within the Swarm. We must go now.”

  Brea nodded, and walked to her horse. “The banner comes with us,” she said firmly.

  Mar’tell hefted it in his hand. “It could be no other way, my Queen.”

  Tal looked up at the blood-red sun as the Swarm finally began to advance again, its creatures swarming over the fallen bodies of too many of the knights that had ridden here. Between the Battlemagi and the Kingsmen’s insane charge, the numbers of the Swarm had been cut nearly in half.

  With the Life Magi here to support the Battlemagi, it might even be enough. Might. He watched as the last remnants of the Kingsmen and the various Magi filtered through the line of Magi. The Kingsmen fell back to where Life Magi treated the wounded and their comrades prepared for one more charge. A charge that would likely kill them all. Tal knew that if the Kingsmen charged out again, too few, if any, of them would come back.

  He stood in front of the line of Magi, watching, looking, searching for Brea’ahrn among the last survivors. He felt Shej’mahi step up to his shoulder.

  “If she was coming, my lord, we’d have seen her by now,” the old Mage said. “I’m sorry, but she isn’t coming. We have to shield ourselves.”

  Tal nodded and raised his sword. “Now!” he ordered, his voice heavy with grief and rage. She shouldn’t have been here to die. It should never have been necessary for this battle to be fought.

  At his order, a flickering silver line of death appeared before the Magi. With the Life Magi woven into the spell, it was vastly more powerful, even with nearly half of the Battlemagi dead, than it had been before. He could feel its power.

  He faced the Swarm, willing them to attack. Willing them to die, to let him avenge all those who had died today. All those who shouldn’t have had to fight, let alone die.

  This is your fate, Shar’tell spoke in his head. This had to be.

  You doomed us to this, Tal replied. You and your brother. You set this all in motion. You damned us all, you arrogant bastards.

  The Four set it in motion. We merely shaped the form, the mind of the ancient Mage replied. Then, suddenly, with a surge of emotion that was suddenly and clearly from Car’raen and not the gestalt, Look!

  Tal opened his eyes from his communion with the amulet and saw what the gestalt spoke of. A group of Kingsmen had broken free of the Swarm, riding under the banner of the House of Ahrn.

  At the center of the wedge of knights was a single figure in the green robes of a Life Mage. He didn’t even need to focus in on her face with his magic to know it was Brea’ahrn.

  “Milady,” he said softly.

  “Milord, we can’t lower the shield,” Shej said. “We can’t.”

  “Then I’ll go for them myself,” Tal spat at the old Mage. Before the Battle Lord could reply at all, he’d Shifted and the black hawk was winging his way across the blood-red sky to the east. He looked down, watching as Brea’s party pulled further away from the Swarm, then, slowly, began to fall back towards the massive horde as their horses tired.

  With a shriek, he plummeted towards the ground, managing to land without breaking anything. He shifted back to human and faced Brea. “My lady,” he said softly.

  “My lord,” she replied, inclining her head. He strode forward and took her hands in his own.

  “You should not have come,” he told her.

  “I could not have stayed,” she replied. “You would have died.”

  Tal continued to hold her hand as he turned to look at the rapidly approaching Swarm. For a moment he said nothing. Then he sighed and nodded gently. “I love you,” he said softly.

  “I love you too,” she replied. He felt her grip his hand more tightly as they faced the oncoming hordes of their enemy.

  “They shall not pass.”

  The two Magi watched as the Swarm drew closer and closer. Tal lifted his sword, preparing to unleash the magic that would drive them back. Then, perhaps a hundred meters away from where they stood, the Swarm stopped. The creatures didn’t advance, didn’t retreat. They simply stopped. As if waiting.

  Tal watched this for a moment, then, releasing Brea’s hand, stepped forward. “Stret’sar,” he cried, using magic to make his voice so loud it would be heard for miles. “It is time. Come forth and fight!”

  For a moment, nothing happened. The Swarm remained immobile, though far from silent. The only noise as the sun fell towards evening was the buzz and hum of the Swarm’s immense mass of creatures. That eerie noise grew for a moment and then died as a gap opened in the ranks of the Swarm.

  It opened slowly, as the neat regiments of Beastmen and disturbed boils of Swarmbeasts moved aside, clearing a path roughly ten meters across through the entire immense host of corrupted life. At the center of the path was a single figure, gliding forwards.

  The figure passed through the ranks of the Swarm, its feet never seeming to touch the ground, and out in front of them. Robes encompassed the entire man, the hood hiding his face. The robes’ colors shifted, changed, twisting and warping from one shade to another. In the figure’s hand, extended before him, was a golden scepter tipped with an amethyst-eyed dragon.

  Stret’sar stopped perhaps five meters from Tal and Brea. “I have come, Tal’raen, Black Lord,” he told his enemy. “We have met, on this field of death and battle. This is what you have brought upon your people, Black Lord.”

  “What you have brought here, Stret’sar,” Tal replied. “Chaos and destruction, all that you will ever bring. All that those,” his gesture took in the entire Swarm, “can ever understand.”

  Stret laughed. “You speak brave words for a beaten man who has failed,” he told Tal. “Even as we speak, detachments of the Swarm are overwhelming the handful of Magi who hold the other passes. Whether or not you hold here means nothing. Vishni will yield to my power, and I will bring justice to them.”

  “And so you show your true colors, Master of Lies,” Tal said softly, his words carried across the field by magic. “For those passes are held by warriors of the Kingdom, and are still held, for nothing has assailed them. Your lies will buy you nothing, Fallen One. The Swarm is here. It is all here. And when you are beaten today, this war will be over forever!”

  “You will not stop me, Hawk Tal’raen,” Stret’sar said coolly. “I will end the conflict and suffering in the world, shatter the injustices and bring order and justice,” Stret snapped. “There is no justice in that which you fight to defend.”

  “Do you deceive even yourself, Stret’sar, Master of Lies and Lord of the Swarm?” Tal demanded. “All that you will – all that you can – bring to Vishni is suffering and death. You will not pass.”

  Stret snarled, and brought his scepter snapping down to send fire blazing at Tal. Tal interjected his sword into the path of the flame and sent it hurtling into the nearby mountain.

  “So be it,” he said. As Tal brought his sword back to the ready, he saw Stret reach up and undo his cloak, letting the inconstant purple garment fall to the ground. “Let this be done.”

  The scepter came around again, and a lance of pure chaos snapped out. Tal met it with a shield of order, and unleashed lightning from his sword at Stret. Power flowed into him, power that wasn’t his. Not knowing where it came from, he simply used it to unleash a death lance at Stret’sar.

  As Stret’sar shattered both attacks, Tal felt Brea’ahrn’s hand leave his. Suddenly, her voice spoke inside his head: I am here. Fight hard, my love, and
he knew. The power was hers, given freely that he might win this battle.

  He took a step forwards, lifting his sword and slashing it across, generating a massive wind that swept down the canyon towards Stret. The Lord of the Swarm stood his ground under the wind, and raised his scepter. Tal jumped forward as snakes surged up out of the ground beneath him. He spun around, fire flashing from his sword to incinerate the chaos-birthed creatures.

  A blast of chaos flame slammed into his shields, forcing him to his knees. He stayed down for a moment, feeling Stret’sar approach, then twisted to a standing position, his sword flashing in an arc towards Stret’s neck. The spell-forged blade smashed into the Dragon scepter and bounced back. A burst of purple lightning flashed from Stret’s eyes, but was drawn to the Hawk amulet and absorbed.

  Tal brought his sword snapping back in front of him, knocking aside the sharp ferrule of the scepter. The weapons locked together, and lightning flickered down them, white from Tal’s hands and purple from Stret’s. The lightning met where they touched, and interlaced.

  For a moment, the lightning stayed where it was, weaving and clashing, one driving the other back, then being driven back in turn. Then the Dragon’s eyes flashed, and purple lightning flashed down from them. Almost simultaneously, the Hawk amulet glowed, and flashed white lightning at the contact point. The lights conjoined, and an explosion of power threw both men back.

  “We’re neither of us our own men, are we Stret’sar?” Tal asked, pulling himself to his feet.

  “What do you mean?” Stret demanded. “I am no man’s man but my own.”

  Tal nodded towards the scepter in Stret’s hand. “He’s in there, isn’t he?” he asked. “Controlling, guiding. Don’t you feel him? What are you, Stret’sar? Yourself? Or Jai’tell’s slave?”

  “I am me!” Stret snarled, and sent chaos flame flashing out from the scepter at Tal.

  Tal extended his shields, absorbing the blast. “Are you?” he asked softly. “Are you really? Prove it.”

  “I need to prove nothing,” the Lord of the Swarm snapped.

  “We are neither of us merely ourselves.” Tal said, ignoring Stret’s reply. “Both of us have other men in our heads, other powers backing us. If we must duel, let us not duel as their swords, but as ourselves.”

  What are you doing? Shar’tell demanded in his head.

  Ending a cycle, Tal replied, reaching up to undo the clasp of the amulet.

  “Come, Stret’sar,” he told his foe. “Let us throw away these artifacts of the past. Let us duel as ourselves, not as them.” He brought his hand forward, the amulet hanging from it. “Will you lay down the scepter?”

  Stret’s eyes seemed locked on the amulet, but when he spoke, it was not to Tal. “Bring me a staff,” he ordered the Magi behind him. His eyes raised to meet Tal’s. “So be it.”

  Moments later, a Swarmmaster appeared, offering his staff to Stret. Stret took it in his right hand, shifting the scepter to his left. Tal watched the Swarmmaster run with raised eyebrows, then turned his gaze back to Stret.

  He raised the hand with the amulet, carefully balancing the sword in his other hand. “Shall we, my lord?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Stret said harshly, and let the scepter fall from his hand.

  Before it even hit the ground, Tal let the amulet slip through his fingers and raised his sword. “Let us see who you truly are, Drake Mage Stret’sar,” he said softly.

  Stret spun the staff in his hands for a moment, and then its iron ferrule snaked out towards Tal. Tal smashed aside the staff with the flat of his blade and deflected a lance of chaos flame with the palm of his right hand. He twisted back, sending lightning flashing out from the sword blade. It battered into the Chaos Mage’s shields, but Stret then reflected it, sending it flashing back at Tal.

  A quick gesture deflected the returned energy into the ground, marking the scorched and blood-soaked earth with yet another crater. Then Tal caught a burst of chaos flame on his sword. He held the sword in the blast, watching a nimbus of purple flame glow around the blade. Then he turned it white with a thought and flicked the sword, sending it hurtling back at Stret’sar.

  Leaving Stret’sar to deal with that attack, Tal rapidly followed it up with two death lances and dodged to the side to avoid a chaos storm counterstrike. Purple lightning and flame, intermixed with pure chaos, flashed through where he’d been standing.

  Tal replied with a storm of his own, blue lightning and white fire lashing out, with buffets of wind and lances of death mixed in. The two storms met, their power canceling each other out as they intermixed. Blue and white and black ran into inconstant purple, the two powers clashing as the storms drove through each other.

  Then the storms broke past each other. Tal tried to dodge, but the sweep of power smashed into his shields. He took a step backwards, and felt Brea’s surge of worry, followed by a surge of more power. Tal sent reassurance and thanks along their newfound link, and used the extra power to shatter the chaos storm.

  As he broke the storm, he saw Stret, who hadn’t just spent the entire day fighting a battle, manage to break through the death storm and send when remained of it hurtling into the mountain walls around them. For a moment, the two Magi simply stood, their eyes meeting as they each regained their breath.

  It only lasted a moment. Moments after their eyes met, the Lord of the Swarm’s staff swept out and a lance of pure chaos lashed out from its tip. Tal deflected the attack into the ground, and replied with fire and lightning. The attack hammered against the Chaos Mage’s shields, and Tal saw the man take a step backwards under the pressure.

  Then he broke free, sending chaos fire flashing back in response. Tal took the flame on his own shields, drawing on the power Brea freely lent him. He marveled at her strength, realizing that the Life Mage’s power reservoir was vastly greater than his own. In this one fight he’d unleashed as much power as he’d used in the entire day’s battle, and had only begun to deplete the power his lady commanded.

  He shattered Stret’s attack, and sent fire of his own flaring back at the other Mage. The Chaos Mage took a step backwards, then shattered the attack and replied with chaos lightning. Tal smashed aside the lightning with his sword and stepped forward.

  Tal felt fresh and invigorated. Brea was refreshing his strength as well as his power. He raised his sword and sent his own lightning flickering forth, once, twice, three times. Each time drove Stret’sar back another step. As the Chaos Mage snapped his staff around to send fire flickering out, Tal sent death lances smashing into the other Mage’s shields.

  Stret pulled himself to his feet and Tal met his eyes. “Impressive,” the Lord of the Swarm said, “but it is only borrowed power!”

  Even as he finished speaking, the Chaos Mage sent lances of pure chaos flashing at Brea. “No!” Tal screamed, leaping towards the attack and trying desperately to interpose his shields between it and Brea. He felt something surge along the link between him and Brea, not power or strength but something else…

  Then the lances struck home, smashing Brea backwards. As Tal watched, she wavered on her feet for a moment, then fell. “NO!” Tal screamed, rushing to her side.

  “Now, Tal’raen,” Stret’sar said from behind him, “I win.”

  Tal could feel the Chaos Mage gathering his strength. He ignored the gathering power, seeking something else. He drove his mind and magic deep into the center of the earth, where its burning core of fire and chaos waited. Waited for him. He twisted his mind into the heat and flame, and pulled.

  The ground shivered, but he didn’t notice. He drove the heat ever higher, dragging it up through the crust, up and up and up. Screams echoed all around him as earthquakes began to shake the ground and sides of the pass. He ignored them, pulling it higher, into the mountains around him, into Mount Drago and Mount Morit. The heat filled the mountains, melting the rock that made them and boiling it into a waiting catastrophe of fire and death.

  Then he shattered the sides of the mountai
ns.

  Stret gathered his last remaining strength for the massive strike that would destroy Tal’raen, and give him the future. The power and authority to forge the world of peace and justice he dreamed of. He raised his borrowed staff.

  But the ground shook underneath him as he willed his power to life, taking away his footing and dropping him to his knees. He looked at Tal’raen in horror, feeling at last the rising lava, the chaos seeping into the mountains around him.

  He sensed it too late. Even as he tried to turn his power to save himself, cracks appeared in the cliffs around the two armies, sending rocks plummeting down onto the Swarm.

  Even as he strove to change the focus of his power, from destruction to preservation, his gaze fell upon the army of Vishni. He saw the Battlemagi raising their shield to protect the army from what was coming, and knew that he had failed.

  A sharp pain suddenly lanced through him. He spun, to face to the west, towards the shek’maji’hil. The tremors had reached even that ancient temple. He felt them disturb the ground under the pillars of the shek’maji’hil. Felt the ground tremor, rumble, and begin to tear. Felt the pillars begin to shake. Felt the crack that opened in the central dome and felt the dome collapse.

  With the dome collapsing in upon itself, the great pillars wavered, and more pain lanced into Stret’sar. He felt one of the pillars fall, shattering into a thousand pieces. Even as he felt it hit the ground, there was a literally inhuman scream from the Swarm – a scream that cut off as the pillar shattered.

  Then another pillar fell, and another scream sounded and was cut off. Then Stret saw Lo’kae break free of the Swarm, running out from them, trying desperately to reach Tal’raen where the Black Lord knelt by his fallen lady.

  But Stret felt the last pillar fall. As it began to fall, he saw Lo’kae jerked to a stop. When it hit, the Rider’s head jerked back as the man let loose a horrifically inhuman cry of pain. A cry that was cut off as the pillar shattered, and Lo’kae, last of the immortal Riders, crumpled to his knees on the blood-soaked rocky soil of the pass, his features aging rapidly even as Stret’sar watched, until he crumpled to the ground, ancient and dead as his stolen years were returned to him.