Broken Stone 02 - Warlock's Sun Rising

by Damien Black

  Adelko glanced out of a window just before he took the stairs back underground. He could see the riotous canopies of the Girdle, pocked with black craters that still smoked. Beyond that he caught a glimpse of the mountains. He searched briefly for the tell-tale shards of the Warlock’s Crown, but they were out of sight. For now.

  Adelko lay on his back, staring up at the stars with sleepless eyes. Dark dreams had chased him from his sleep; he could not remember their form, only flickering shapes now pressed at the penumbra of his consciousness, shapes that made him think of shadow and steel and blood.

  Next to him his companions snored with an abandon he could only envy. The Earth Witch had shown them to a glade after tending their wounds and feeding them again. The lush grass was of such texture as he had never seen before; his feathered bed in the King’s palace at Strongholm could not have been more comfortable.

  Not that it had availed him much in the way of rest. He was sitting up and thinking about exploring the Girdle when he caught a movement from the corner of his eye. Turning he nearly jumped out of his skin as he saw the Earth Witch standing over him, seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

  She raised a bony hand to her brown lips. ‘Don’t wake the others. I need to speak with you, and that squireling friend of yours, alone. Go and wake him.’

  The novice got to his feet and went over to do her bidding, his curiosity instantly getting the better of him. Truth to tell, he wasn’t entirely surprised she wanted a private audience with him – she obviously thought he was significant in some way – but he had not expected her to take an interest in Vaskrian. What on earth could she want with the rakehell squire?

  He shook Vaskrian awake. The squire turned over, his eyes flicking open as he grabbed Adelko by the habit.

  ‘Calm down!’ hissed Adelko. ‘It’s just me… The Earth Witch wants a word with us.’

  Vaskrian blinked and sat up, struggling to bring his sleepy eyes into focus. ‘Do you think it’s a trap?’ he asked nervously, glancing over at her and back at Adelko. His hand strayed to the dirk he kept in his boot, something he’d picked up from Braxus.

  The novice shook his head. ‘I don’t think so,’ he whispered. ‘My sixth sense says we’re probably safe with her.’

  The squire stared at him. ‘Your what?’

  ‘Never mind, let’s go with her, find out what she wants!’

  The Earth Witch was standing at the edge of the glade, her tall dark form almost blending in with the trees. She motioned for the youths to follow her up a gravelled path.

  It took several twists and turns, passing through several courtyards. The woods were eerily quiet; no owls hooted, no foxes scurried from the bushes. Even the leaves were silent.

  Eventually she stopped at a hexagonal clearing bordered with moonstones. At its centre was a dais fashioned from what looked like the shorn trunk of an old oak tree, its sides carved with the fauns and other forest spirits Adelko had become used to seeing.

  She led them over to it. The top of it had been hollowed out into a low basin. The Earth Witch held her hands over it and murmured softly. The basin slowly filled up with water.

  ‘Long ages have passed since the Moon Goddess sailed to the Island Realms,’ she said softly, as if speaking to the woods themselves. ‘Before that the lives of the Islanders were harsh and bleak, as they scratched a living from the unyielding rock and hard soil. The First Age of Darkness was upon us then, and all mortalkind had to pay the price of the Elder Wizards’ folly.’

  The water stopped just a finger’s breadth from the lip of the basin. Touching its surface the sorceress muttered an incantation. The waters began to shimmer and glow as the pool had done in her subterranean lair.

  ‘Kaia re-gifted mortalkind with the language of magick, teaching her priest-folk the Sorcerer’s Script,’ she went on, still as if speaking to no one in particular. ‘They became the druids, and under her tutelage they ushered in an age of plenty – fruit was coaxed from the trees, the earth became rich and fertile, and all on the Islands shared in the cornucopia. For my people it was a golden age, enough to rival that of the City States of Thalamy or the Hierocracy of Sendhé far to the south.’

  Adelko plucked up the courage to speak. ‘But we’re taught that’s blasphemy,’ he said. ‘Using magic to alter the laws of the natural world. Only Reus has the right to do that.’

  ‘Aye, so I have heard it said by the learned of your faith,’ answered the witch. ‘A divine intervention by the Lord Almighty Himself, what you would call a miracle.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Adelko, though for some reason he felt unsure of himself.

  Perhaps sensing that, she turned her red eyes on him and said: ‘But for us there is no such distinction – even the Creed acknowledges that the Unseen, all the angels and archangels and spirits of the Other Side, are but emanations of your One God’s essence. They are of Him, and therefore calling on their power is no different to calling on the deity you call Reus.’

  ‘I see…’ Adelko had never heard it put like that before. It seemed to make sense, and yet it went against everything he had been taught. He wondered what Horskram would say if he were here now.

  ‘I have watched you from afar for some time now, both of you in fact,’ she continued, staring pointedly at Vaskrian. The squire was looking fit to drop back off to sleep again. ‘As I said earlier, Scrying gives me the power to see across space and time, though often I am granted just a fleeting glimpse, and see through a glass but darkly.’

  ‘The Redeemer said that,’ said Adelko. ‘Horskram quoted that part of the Scriptures a few days ago.’

  ‘Your mentor is far wiser than most of his kind,’ said the sorceress. ‘His inner struggles as he searches for the truth are doubtless painful to him. If only he could fully accept that truth has more than one facet.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Adelko.

  ‘For you there is but one god, and what we pagans call gods are in fact no more than his servants and enemies, demons and angels and so forth. But what if both were true? What if the One God could be the Many as well? All existing at the same time, separate as your individual limbs are, and yet part of an integrated whole.’

  She continued as Adelko reflected on her words: ‘A mortal man has many moods: he can be kind, or wroth, or sad, or joyful. He can seem like a different man when a different mood is on him, yet ultimately he is the same man is he not?’

  ‘I suppose so…’ said Adelko. Vaskrian was staring at the trees, clearly bored. The novice wondered why she had brought him along.

  Seemingly oblivious, the Earth Witch went on: ‘Think on the many moods of your One God, Adelko. If Reus sees all, then He must have known what strife He would bring forth when he gave birth to Abaddon and his future followers aeons ago… If Reus created all, then perhaps He must answer for everything in the Universe: good, bad and indifferent.’

  ‘But that’s blasphemy!’ cried Adelko.

  ‘You are still unable to let go of your beliefs,’ she replied. ‘The things you learned in the monastery have shaped your mindset. But you were born for far more than merely learning at the feet of others, Adelko of Narvik – in time, if you survive, you will learn far more. You will learn how to judge for yourself the nature of things, and if my Scrying be true, it is your destiny to impart that knowledge to others.’

  ‘What about this quest,’ he asked. ‘Andragorix, the Headstone fragments, all of that? Am I… was I, destined to be part of all that?’

  ‘That I cannot say for sure,’ answered the sorceress. ‘All I can say is that this quest, as you call it, will be the making or breaking of you – it will be the crucible that forges you into the person I think you really are… Or it will be the conflagration that destroys you.’

  ‘The demon Belaach said something about conflagration in his prophecy,’ said Adelko, shivering suddenly in the night air.

  ‘Do not mention that name here!’ said the Earth Witch sharply. ‘Bad enough I had to bind a demon
to that wooden manikin to try and save my realm.’

  ‘They’re very angry with you for doing that,’ said Adelko. ‘Horskram says it’s Left-Hand Magic, that – ’ He stopped in mid-sentence. He didn’t want to betray his mentor, but he felt something odd happening. He was becoming attuned to the Earth Witch, not as hunter and criminal, but as an understanding of… equals?

  ‘Ah yes, another cardinal error of your faith,’ said the Earth Witch. ‘Left hand and right, black and white, good and evil – always so simple. Life is never that simple.’

  She turned to Vaskrian. ‘You have also been marked out,’ she said. ‘The Farseers of Norn spoke of another youth that would play a part in the struggles to come. In fact you already have – twice now you’ve saved your friend’s life. Though I’m not sure why you were chosen – you seem like a passing reckless young man to me.’

  The squire stared back at her defiantly. ‘If I’m reckless it’s because I’m brave,’ he said. ‘I fear no man – I even dealt your precious Golem a tidy blow.’

  ‘Ah yes, using faerie magic by the looks of things,’ she mused. ‘For all your appearances to the contrary, you are clearly no ordinary squire. The Farseers had it thus: “At his right hand shall come another young in years, sullen eyed and resentful, strong but reckless. He shall be low born but rise high, yet no man shall honour him with title for his deeds. The seas shall rise in arms at his call, the earth shall be stained with the blood of his enemies. He will deal death to the foes of the chosen one, a raven shall fly at his back, the sweet taste of victory shall sour in his mouth.”’

  ‘That doesn’t sound so good,’ said Vaskrian gloomily.

  ‘Remember what I said – truth has more than one facet,’ replied the sorceress cryptically.

  ‘But all I want is to be a knight!’ Vaskrian spluttered. ‘It’s all I’ve ever wanted!’

  ‘And why do you wish to be a knight?’ retorted the Earth Witch. ‘So you can kill with “honour”, as your master does?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I want,’ persisted Vaskrian, growing red-faced and angry. ‘I can fight as well as any high-born man my age, why should I miss out just because I wasn’t born some blueblood’s son?’ His eyes were filled with rage and resentment now. Adelko sensed a deep pain and longing in his friend. He wished he could help him somehow.

  ‘You want overly well methinks,’ said the sorceress. ‘Do you think having “sir” attached to your name will make you a better fighter, or a better person? Will it bring back that poor squire you so shamefully murdered?’

  Vaskrian gawped. ‘How did you know…?’

  ‘As I said, I have been watching you both for a long time,’ replied the Earth Witch. ‘I fear you’re going to get a lot more blood on your hands before you grow up.’

  ‘Derrick was a cur!’ snarled Vaskrian. ‘A stuck-up knight’s son who couldn’t fight half as well as he talked – he deserved to die!’

  The Earth Witch looked at him sadly. ‘I don’t share the traditions of the Northlanders, but you really do have a raven at your back, Vaskrian of Gaellen. Strange that the gods should have chosen someone like you to guard Adelko on his journeys.’

  She reached into the pool and pulled something from its shimmering depths. It was a small hollowed out crystal pendant; a mist writhed within it, changing colour from grey to blue and back again.

  ‘I think you should wear this,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen some of what lies ahead and it’s for me to play a small part in the Farseers’ prophecy. Here, take it.’

  ‘I’ll have no truck with your pagan ways, witch!’ cried the squire. ‘I’ve already heard enough from – ’

  The sorceress stared at him. Her concentration seemed to be elsewhere. ‘I… said… take it.’

  Vaskrian reached out dumbly and took the pendant, putting it around his neck and tucking it into his jerkin.

  ‘Now go back to the glade,’ she said. ‘I’ll have Burrow guide you.’

  She murmured something and the red squirrel appeared from the trees. Bidding Adelko a confused good night, the squire turned and followed it back up the trail.

  ‘You used magic to make him take the pendant,’ he said accusingly. ‘I could sense you doing it!’

  ‘I don’t like using Enchantment unless I really have to,’ said the Earth Witch. ‘It isn’t my favourite of the Seven Schools. But yon youth is clearly impossible. Why he’s been chosen I’ve no idea – the ways of the gods are strange.’

  The Earth Witch turned and touched the pool again, conjuring up a vision from its shimmering surface.

  ‘I want to show you something,’ she said. ‘One last thing before you go back to bed.’

  ‘A glimpse of my future?’ asked Adelko uncertainly. At the monastery he had learned that using Scrying for such purposes was very dangerous – men could drive themselves mad trying to avert their possible futures, sometimes even bringing their doom about through doing so. But right now he wasn’t sure if anything he had learned was actually true or not. He wished his mentor were here to guide him.

  ‘Not exactly,’ replied the witch. ‘Yours is a rare spirit, Adelko of Narvik. I want to help you understand your gifts better.’

  Placing both hands in the pool she cupped them and raised some water, offering it to him.

  ‘Drink,’ she said.

  ‘I… no, I won’t! That’s Alchemy you’re practising, I’m an Argolian and it’s forbidden – ’

  ‘Drink.’

  He could feel her pressing at his will now, visualising the abstract symbols of the Sorcerer’s Script as she tried to get him to do her bidding. He began mouthing the Psalm of Abjuration to counter the effect. Slowly he felt the force subside, though the sorceress did not move.

  ‘Drink, Adelko of Narvik – if I can’t compel you, perhaps I can persuade you. Remember what I said about there being more than one truth. I am only trying to help you.’

  He felt an anguish come over him. He knew it was wrong, but his curiosity burned in him. Something in him longed to know, as it had always done… He felt an unseen truth beckoning him with an invisible hand.

  ‘Would you be standing here now if you hadn’t stepped across your Abbot’s threshold three moons ago?’ she pressed relentlessly. ‘Your hunger after forbidden things is what set you on this path in the first place – drink, Adelko of Narvik, it is your destiny to seek truth in all its forms!’

  No power of enchantment compelled him now, only his unquenchable thirst for knowledge, the same thirst that had seen him burrowing through dark corners of the world for the past year. Bending forwards he took a sip of water from the sorceress’s earthy hands. It tasted oddly sweet, not like fruit or any other kind of sweetness he had ever experienced. The liquid was ice cool as it slipped down his throat…

  Everything dropped away from him with a sharp crack. As he had done outside Tintagael, he suddenly saw himself from afar, standing in the clearing with the Earth Witch near the middle of the Girdle; around it the clustered eaves of the Argael stretched in all directions. The vision receded further, and he could see the slopes of the Hyrkrainians as he had done in the pool, the Wadwo fortress studded against a hillside. There were two tiny figures on a ridge overlooking the fort, on the other side from the trail it guarded…

  The vision rushed away from him, and the Free Kingdoms were spread out like a vast map, the seas looking strangely still. He continued to hurtle backwards, the lands and seas condensing into a blue-green orb surrounded by endless stars in an ocean of night… Back he went, soaring with a speed that confounded comprehension, the stars fading and blackness closing around him…

  He opened his mouth to scream but no sound came. He sensed rather than saw the next series of visions: hosts of berserker armies clashed swords and shields against an icy tundra painted in a wash of crimson, a blond youth standing before them roaring triumphantly; in a baking desert under a hot sun, exotic-looking soldiers rode in thick columns, their multi-coloured turbans blazing in the light; at their hea
d rode a dark-skinned warrior, short in stature but proud and confident; a host of knights dressed in white stood ready to meet them, and above both armies in the orange skies a great serpent coiled around a giant wheel, crushing its spokes… Far to the west a fleet of high-prowed ships put out to sea, sporting a banner emblazoned with a green stag and a bear, pulling steadily towards a horizon where ghosts moaned and tumbled beneath the foamy waves and strange black stones loomed at the fringes of a mist-shrouded island… Countless leagues away lay another island, atop it a blasted city, vaster than any he could have imagined, its broken edifices mocking the natural composition of the stormy skies; in their midst a tower soared… a lone figure swathed in dark robes stood atop it next to another stone, carved with hieratic symbols that burned his psyche…

  He felt a thousand ideas conflicting, grating and jarring at one another as ambition ran wild, hunger for power marrying thirst for blood in a tidal wave of suffering. A multitude of voices cried out ‘I have the right of it!’ and many more screamed, tortured souls begging for mercy as they exited their broken bodies; beyond them loomed another city, even vaster, its towers of burning brass casting long shadows across a fiery host whose forms were made of naught but fire and cinder…

  He soared past the brass city and his anguish dropped away as he found himself on a bright unending plain, surrounded by beautiful forms of white and pink who whispered softly to him: ‘The choice is yours.’ He opened his mouth to answer and a colossal black angel appeared before him, blindfolded. Countless eyes both open and shut nestled in the fearful plumage of its great wings.

  ‘YOU HAVE CHOSEN,’ it thundered. ‘THE UNALTERABLE LAW HAS BEEN ALTERED/NOW EVERYTHING MUST CHANGE.’

  The visions of heaven and hell dropped away in a heartbeat. He was floating in a void… Then stars and suns started to take form about him, giant vapours condensing into gigantic belts made of light and dust. He saw another orb of blue and green, shaped much like the first, and as he hurtled towards it he saw continents shaped like those of the first, yet different somehow… Iron dragons coursed across alien skies at terrifying speed, spitting fire on all below; ordinary folk ran terrified from their dwellings as they were consumed in the conflagration about them. Above the skies, in two vast semicircles of thrones set into the firmament, sat a host of angels and demons.