by Ian Irvine
Three Worlds: Santhenar, Aachan and Tallallame.
Thurkad: An ancient, wealthy and notably corrupt city on the River Saboth and the Sea of Thurkad. Seat of the council and the Magister.
Time of the Mirror: The period of several years, beginning about twelve years ago, during which the events set down in Llian’s Tale of the Mirror took place.
Tirthrax: A city of the Aachim in the Great Mountains.
Tolryme: A town in northern Bannador, close to Karan’s family seat, Gothryme.
Triplets, the: identical triplets, Jaguly, Empuly and Unbuly, gifted but crazed mancers whom Gergrig makes into the Merdrun’s new magiz.
Triune: A double blending—one with the blood of all Three Worlds, three different human species. They are extremely rare, mostly infertile and can be mentally unstable or obsessive. They may have remarkable abilities. Karan is one, Maigraith another.
Tule, Torsion: An aged, ailing master alchemist; a bigoted and choleric man.
Uigg: A Merdrun drum boy.
Unbuly: A sociopathic triplet, sister to Jaguly and Empuly.
Unick, Gurgito: A genius at inventing magical devices, but a sociopathic, depraved drunk.
Unreality zone: A place corrupted by toxic magical wastes.
Ussarine: Osseion’s daughter. A huge, kindly warrior.
Voice: The ability of great tellers to move their audience to any emotion they choose by the sheer power of their words.
Void, the: A place where life is more brutal and fleeting than anywhere. The void teems with the most exotic life imaginable, for nothing survives there without remaking itself constantly.
Vyl, Scorbic: A mancer in the service of Snoat.
Way Between the Worlds: The secret, forever-changing and ethereal paths that permit the difficult passage between the Three Worlds. They were closed off by the Forbidding.
Whelm: Former servants of Yggur—his terror-guard—they are now masterless and dwell in the frigid southland of Shazabba.
Wilm: A good-hearted but unself-confident country lad aged seventeen, who after seeing his friend Dajaes murdered by Unick, has transformed himself into a noble warrior.
Xarah: A young Aachim woman in Malien’s group, a gifted scrier.
Yalkara: The last of the three Charon who came to Santhenar to find the flute and return it to Aachan. She was Shand’s partner for a time. Maigraith is her granddaughter.
Yetchah: A Whelm woman, partner to Idlis.
Yggur: A great, powerful but troubled mancer and warlord, and a former member of the Great Council. Last year he had a relapse and withdrew from all his captured lands, creating a power vacuum that Cumulus Snoat took advantage of.
Zanser: A master healer from Crandor.
Zain: A scholarly race which once dwelt in Zile and founded the Great Library. They made a pact with Rulke. After he was imprisoned in the Nightland most were slaughtered and the remnant exiled. They are still hated.
Zile: A city in the north-west of the island of Meldorin. Once capital of the empire of Zur, now chiefly famous for the Great Library.
GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION
There are many languages and dialects used on Santhenar by the four human species. While it is impossible to be definitive in such a brief note, the following generalisations normally apply.
There are no silent letters, and double consonants are generally pronounced as two separate letters; for example, Yggur is pronounced Ig-ger, and Faellem as Fael-lem. The letter c is usually pronounced as k, except in mancer and Alcifer, where it is pronounced as s, as in manser, Alsifer. The combination ch is generally pronounced as in church, except in Aachim and Charon, where it is pronounced as k.
Aachim Ar’-kim
Chanthed Chan-thed’
Charon Kar’-on
Faelamor Fay-el’-amor
Iagador Eye-aga’-dor
Karan Ka-ran’
Llian Lee’-an
Maigraith May’-gray-ith
Shuthdar Shoo’-th-dar’
Ussarine Oos-sar-een
Whelm H’-welm
Yggur Ig’-ger
Xarah Zhá-rah
extras
meet the author
IAN IRVINE, an Australian marine scientist, has also written thirty-two novels. These include his internationally best-selling Three Worlds epic fantasy sequence, comprising the View from the Mirror quartet, the Well of echoes quartet and the Song of the Tears trilogy, and a related fantasy series, the Tainted Realm trilogy.
His other books include an anthology of Three Worlds stories, A Wizard’s War and other Stories, a trilogy of eco-thrillers, Human Rites, set in the near future when the world is undergoing catastrophic climate change, and thirteen novels for younger readers. He is currently writing book three of The Gates of Good and Evil.
Ian can be contacted at: https://www.facebook.com/ianirvine.author
Website: http://www.ian-irvine.com
Goodreadspage: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/153703.Ian_Irvine
Find out more about Ian Irvine and other orbit authors by registering for the free monthly newsletter at www.orbitbooks.net.
if you enjoyed
THE FATAL GATE
look out for
THE SHADOW OF WHAT WAS LOST
Book One of the Licanius Trilogy
by
James Islington
It has been twenty years since the godlike Augurs were overthrown and killed. Now, those who once served them—the Gifted—are spared only because they have accepted the rebellion’s Four Tenets, vastly limiting their powers.
As a Gifted, Davian suffers the consequences of a war lost before he was even born. He and others like him are despised. But when Davian discovers he wields the forbidden power of the Augurs, he sets into motion a chain of events that will change everything.
To the west, a young man whose fate is intertwined with Davian’s wakes up in a forest, covered in blood and with no memory of who he is …
And in the far north, an ancient enemy long thought defeated begins to stir.
Chapter 1
The blade traced a slow line of fire down his face.
He desperately tried to cry out, to jerk away, but the hand over his mouth prevented both. Steel filled his vision, gray and dirty. Warm blood trickled down the left side of his face, onto his neck, under his shirt.
There were only fragments after that.
Laughter. The hot stink of wine on his attacker’s breath.
A lessening of the pain, and screams—not his own.
Voices, high-pitched with fear, begging.
Then silence. Darkness.
Davian’s eyes snapped open.
The young man sat there for some time, heart pounding, breathing deeply to calm himself. Eventually he stirred from where he’d dozed off at his desk and rubbed at his face, absently tracing the raised scar that ran from the corner of his left eye down to his chin. It was pinkish white now, had healed years earlier. It still ached whenever the old memories threatened to surface, though.
He stood, stretching muscles stiff from disuse and grimacing as he looked outside. His small room high in the North Tower overlooked most of the school, and the windows below had all fallen dark. The courtyard torches flared and sputtered in their sockets, too, only barely clinging to life.
Another evening gone, then. He was running out of those much faster than he would like.
Davian sighed, then adjusted his lamp and began sifting through the myriad books that were scattered haphazardly in front of him. He’d read them all, of course, most several times. None had provided him with any answers—but even so he took a seat, selected a tome at random, and tiredly began to thumb through it.
It was some time later that a sharp knock cut through the heavy silence of the night.
Davian flinched, then brushed a stray strand of curly black hair from his eyes and crossed to the door, opening it a sliver.
“Wirr,” he said in vague surprise, swinging the door wide enough
to let his blond-haired friend’s athletic frame through. “What are you doing here?”
Wirr didn’t move to enter, his usually cheerful expression uneasy, and Davian’s stomach churned as he suddenly understood why the other boy had come.
Wirr gave a rueful nod when he saw Davian’s reaction. “They found him, Dav. He’s downstairs. They’re waiting for us.”
Davian swallowed. “They want to do it now?”
Wirr just nodded again.
Davian hesitated, but he knew that there was no point delaying. He took a deep breath, then extinguished his lamp and trailed after Wirr down the spiral staircase.
He shivered in the cool night air as they exited the tower and began crossing the dimly lit cobblestone courtyard. The school was housed in an enormous Darecian-era castle, though the original grandeur of the structure had been lost somewhat to the various motley additions and repairs of the past two thousand years. Davian had lived here all his life and knew every inch of the grounds—from the servants’ quarters near the kitchen, to the squat keep where the Elders kept their rooms, to every well-worn step of the four distinctively hexagonal towers that jutted far into the sky.
Tonight that familiarity brought him little comfort. The high outer walls loomed ominously in the darkness.
“Do you know how they caught him?” he asked.
“He used Essence to light his campfire.” Wirr shook his head, the motion barely visible against the dying torches on the wall. “Probably wasn’t much more than a trickle, but there were Administrators on the road nearby. Their Finders went off, and …” He shrugged. “They turned him over to Talean a couple of hours ago, and Talean didn’t want this drawn out any longer than it had to be. For everyone’s sake.”
“Won’t make it any easier to watch,” muttered Davian.
Wirr slowed his stride for a moment, glancing across at his friend. “There’s still time to take Asha up on her offer to replace you,” he observed quietly. “I know it’s your turn, but … let’s be honest, Administration only forces students to do this because it’s a reminder that the same thing could happen to us. And it’s not as if anyone thinks that’s something you need right now. Nobody would blame you.”
“No.” Davian shook his head firmly. “I can handle it. And anyway, Leehim’s the same age as her—she knows him better than we do. She shouldn’t have to go through that.”
“None of us should,” murmured Wirr, but he nodded his acceptance and picked up the pace again.
They made their way through the eastern wing of the castle and finally came to Administrator Talean’s office; the door was already open, lamplight spilling out into the hallway. Davian gave a cautious knock on the door frame as he peered in, and he and Wirr were beckoned inside by a somber-looking Elder Olin.
“Shut the door, boys,” said the gray-haired man, forcing what he probably thought was a reassuring smile at them. “Everyone’s here now.”
Davian glanced around as Wirr closed the door behind them, examining the occupants of the small room. Elder Seandra was there, her diminutive form folded into a chair in the corner; the youngest of the school’s teachers was normally all smiles but tonight her expression was weary, resigned.
Administrator Talean was present, too, of course, his blue cloak drawn tightly around his shoulders against the cold. He nodded to the boys in silent acknowledgment, looking grim. Davian nodded back, even after three years still vaguely surprised to see that the Administrator was taking no pleasure in these proceedings. It was sometimes hard to remember that Talean truly didn’t hate the Gifted, unlike so many of his counterparts around Andarra.
Last of all, secured to a chair in the center of the room, was Leehim.
The boy was only one year behind Davian at fifteen, but the vulnerability of his position made him look much younger. Leehim’s dark-brown hair hung limply over his eyes, and his head was bowed and motionless. At first Davian thought he must be unconscious.
Then he noticed Leehim’s hands. Even tied firmly behind his back, they were trembling.
Talean sighed as the door clicked shut. “It seems we’re ready, then,” he said quietly. He exchanged glances with Elder Olin, then stepped in front of Leehim so that the boy could see him.
Everyone silently turned their attention to Leehim; the boy’s gaze was now focused on Talean and though he was doing his best to hide it, Davian could see the abject fear in his eyes.
The Administrator took a deep breath.
“Leehim Perethar. Three nights ago you left the school without a Shackle and unbound by the Fourth Tenet. You violated the Treaty.” He said the words formally, but there was compassion in his tone. “As a result, before these witnesses here, you are to be lawfully stripped of your ability to use Essence. After tonight you will not be welcome amongst the Gifted in Andarra—here, or anywhere else—without special dispensation from one of the Tols. Do you understand?”
Leehim nodded, and for a split second Davian thought this might go more easily than it usually did.
Then Leehim spoke, as everyone in his position did eventually.
“Please,” he said, his gaze sweeping around the room, eyes pleading. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t make me a Shadow. I made a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
Elder Olin looked at him sadly as he stepped forward, a small black disc in his hand. “It’s too late, lad.”
Leehim stared at him for a moment as if not comprehending, then shook his head. “No. Wait. Just wait.” The tears began to trickle down his cheeks, and he bucked helplessly at his restraints. Davian looked away as he continued imploringly. “Please. Elder Olin. I won’t survive as a Shadow. Elder Seandra. Just wait. I—”
From the corner of his eye, Davian saw Elder Olin reach down and press the black disc against the skin on Leehim’s neck.
He forced himself to turn back and watch as the boy stopped in midsentence. Only Leehim’s eyes moved now; everything else was motionless. Paralyzed.
Elder Olin let go of the disc for a moment; it stuck to Leehim’s neck as if affixed with glue. The Elder straightened, then looked over to Talean, who reluctantly nodded his confirmation.
The Elder leaned down again, this time touching a single finger to the disc.
“I’m sorry, Leehim,” he murmured, closing his eyes.
A nimbus of light coalesced around Elder Olin’s hand; after a moment the glow started inching along his extended finger and draining into the disc.
Leehim’s entire body began to shake.
It was just a little at first, barely noticeable, but then suddenly became violent as his muscles started to spasm. Talean gently put his hand on Leehim’s shoulder, steadying the boy so his chair didn’t topple.
Elder Olin removed his finger from the disc after a few more seconds, but Leehim continued to convulse. Bile rose in Davian’s throat as dark lines began to creep outward from Leehim’s eyes, ugly black veins crawling across his face and leaching the color from his skin. A disfigurement that would be with Leehim for the rest of his life.
Then the boy went limp, and it was over.
Talean made sure Leehim was breathing, then helped Elder Olin untie him. “Poor lad probably won’t even remember getting caught,” he said softly. He hesitated, then glanced over at Elder Seandra, who was still staring hollowly at Leehim’s slumped form. “I’m sorry it came to this—I know you liked the lad. When he wakes up I’ll give him some food and a few coins before I send him on his way.”
Seandra was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Thank you, Administrator,” she said quietly. “I appreciate that.”
Davian looked up as Elder Olin finished what he was doing and came to stand in front of the boys.
“Are you all right?” he asked, the question clearly aimed at Davian more than Wirr.
Davian swallowed, emotions churning, but nodded. “Yes,” he lied.
The Elder gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you for being here tonight. I know it can’t have been e
asy.” He nodded to the door. “Now. Both of you should go and get some rest.”
Davian and Wirr inclined their heads in assent, giving Leehim’s limp form one last glance before exiting the Administrator’s office.
Wirr rubbed his forehead tiredly as they walked. “Want some company for a few minutes? There’s no chance I’m going straight to sleep after that.”
Davian nodded. “You and me both.”
They made their way back to the North Tower in thoughtful, troubled silence.
If you enjoyed
THE FATAL GATE
look out for
SOUL OF THE WORLD
by
David Mealing
Three must fight. Three must die. Three must rise.
It is a time of revolution. in the cities, food shortages stir citizens to riots against the crown. In the wilds, new magic threatens the dominance of the tribes. And on the battlefields, even the most brilliant commanders struggle in the shadow of total war. Three lines of magic must be mastered in order to usher in a new age, and three heroes must emerge.
Sarine is an artist on the streets of New Sarresant whose secret familiar helps her uncover bloodlust and madness where she expected only revolutionary fervor.
Arak’Jur wields the power of beasts to keep his people safe, but his strength cannot protect them from war amongst themselves.
Erris is a brilliant cavalry officer trying to defend New Sarresant from an enemy general armed with magic she barely understands.
Each must learn the secrets of their power in time to guide their people through ruin. But a greater evil may be trying to stop them.
1