The Godlost Land

by Curtis, Greg

  “Commander.” Harl greeted Marni with a polite nod, hoping that this was going to be one of those days when things between them were more relaxed.

  “Harl.” She stood to greet him and even managed a short nod.

  “This is Avan of Midland Heights.” She indicated the man on the pew before her. “He claims to have been in hiding for the past five years. But he escaped with his mother.”

  That Harl figured was his cue to ask the man some questions. Questions that had probably already been asked.

  “I am Harl of the Elder Fire. Do you claim no other name than Midland Heights?”

  That the man apparently did not surprised him. Most people, whether wizards or not, would claim another name than the city they called home for their surname. Midland Heights was a large city, a hundred and fifty thousand people and Avan was not an unheard of forename. There could have been quite a few of them in the city. And a wizard always liked to claim a name that stood apart from others. A name that would be remembered.

  Besides, a surname was special. A forename was chosen by a child's parents and given to them on their naming day. It represented their parents' hopes and dreams for them. But a surname was chosen by the man for himself when he reached the age of adulthood. It was a symbol of who he was. To use a town or a city seemed unimaginative at best. And for a wizard, a man of status, a proper surname was considered as part of how he presented himself to the world.

  “Not as yet. My master threatened to name me as Avan the Unsteady as I kept dropping things, but I had not completed my apprenticeship when the beasts came.”

  His master would name him? That surprised Harl. It did happen in some places, the name being given in part as a reflection upon the character of the apprentice. But he hadn't thought it was a common practice. In the Kingdom of the Lion men chose their own names when they reached the age of such things. When they no longer lived within the family home and had started out on their lives.

  He had decided upon his own name as a sort of family jape. The elder fire was a plant found on the banks of rivers in Lion's Crest. It flowered with a bright yellow bloom that was unlike any of the other plants around it, which was what his parents had thought about him having magic. Then again he had been born and raised in Lion's Crest, not Midland Heights. A different city in a different kingdom. Things undoubtedly differed from one kingdom to another.

  On the other hand what mattered was less what he said and more how he said it. And the commander was right, there was something odd about how he spoke. Something that didn't feel quite natural.

  “Who was your master?”

  “Master For Tan the Sturdy.”

  It was another name that Harl did not know. But he did know that For Tan the Sturdy was not one of the Circle. But then again, if he was from Midland Heights as he claimed, he wouldn't be.

  “And your calling?”

  “Earth, mostly metals.”

  Immediately he heard that Harl felt a little warmth for the wizard. It was the most honest of the magical callings in his view, though as an arcane smith he might be a little partial. But it unfortunately also explained the callouses on his hands and his physique without the need for him to have been living rough for the last five years. Those of his calling usually ended up working in the mines, their magic helping them to draw the metals from the ground at will. It was hard work and they were among the most physically robust of wizards because of it. Only they and arcane smiths usually had any great physical prowess. And typically other wizards looked down on them because of it. Traditionally wizards were of a less robust build, choosing to spend their days lifting books rather than tools.

  “So, when the beasts came what did you do? How did you escape?” Harl started to ask the questions he guessed the others had already asked. It wasn't that he thought he would get any different answers to them or that he might notice something else in them. It was simply that he couldn't think of anything else to ask.

  The answers he got were more or less what he'd expected. The man wove a good story of how he'd run with his mother and found a small holding and from that moment on had hidden, fighting when he had to but mostly just running and hiding. It was exactly what he needed to say. It made perfect sense, and in many ways it was almost exactly the same story that Harl had lived. It didn't sound rehearsed or contrived in any way. In fact there were parts where he could almost feel the emotion of what the man was saying. And yet still something sounded a little wrong with it. He just didn't know what.

  Half an hour passed as Harl went back and forth over his story with Avan and still he was no closer to knowing what was wrong with it. Or if there was anything wrong with it at all. He said as much to Marni when he left the room to speak with her about it. All of which left her with only one option; to let the wizard pass through. You couldn't lock a man away for sounding unconvincing. You had to have some evidence of something. Some wrong doing. But they had nothing. Besides, perhaps it was simply better that he go. Even if he had been on the wrong side, at least when he was gone from the five kingdoms he would be able to cause them no trouble.

  So in the end the decision was made and they stood there together on the grass courtyard and watched as the man left them to go to his family where they stood just outside the fort's gate. It was then that things took an unexpected turn.

  The first Harl realised it was when he saw Avan go to his mother. And in that instant he knew. It wasn't the man at all that was wrong. It was his mother. The unicorns and the priests had obviously smelled magic on the pair. But it was the mother who had the true magic. But she had sent her son to face the questions because he was more likely to convince them. Because she was known to him and probably to many others.

  “Sweet Hera, Marni that's Alenda Goldeneyes!” She was dressed in rags, bent over as if her back was hunched, her hair was long and dirty, and she was trying to look even older than she was, but he knew her.

  He shouldn't have said it. He definitely shouldn't have pointed. Because an instant later she saw him and she knew her secret was out. She responded with the only weapon she had – fire.

  “Run!”

  Harl screamed it at the others, but most of them didn't know what he was warning them about. Not until the mistress of fire sent her first stream of fire heading their way. A burning river of flame fifty paces long and a dozen wide. After that there was a lot of screaming as soldiers ran in all directions to escape the fire. Not all managed to escape and some fell where they stood, either badly injured or dead. And then the wood of the palisades themselves began to smoke. They were thick logs but they were old and dry and her fire was hot.

  “Archers!”

  Marni screamed for them as she ran knowing that their range might be enough to overcome her attack, but Harl knew it wouldn't be. She was prepared for that. When she blasted her fire in their direction the arrows would be blown off course and most of them would burn up before they reached her. There was only one way to stop her.

  So he drew his sword and ran for her, screaming with all the power he had.

  Naturally she heard him and when she saw him coming she reacted. In a heartbeat she sent a huge river of fire blasting his way. It was a mistake. Clearly she had no idea who or what he was. She thought he was just another soldier. The fire hit him as he'd expected, and thanks to his natural immunity did him no harm – though his leggings caught fire. They were the only part of his outfit that wasn't properly spelled against magic or fire. But if Harl thought it was going to be easy he was wrong. Because he swiftly discovered that he couldn't see anything through the flames or hear anything over the roar of the fire. And the wind from the fire storm was blowing him around. He couldn't even see the ground under his feet. He was blind and deaf. All he could do was keep running towards the flames as they streaked at him and try not to trip.

  It seemed to work and a few seconds later when the wizard turned her flame off him thinking he would surely be dead by then and that there were others to burn, he w
as only twenty paces from her. Twenty paces that with the rage he felt surging through him became ten in less than a heartbeat. Then they were five even as she was turning her fire desperately back on him, and five simply wasn't enough.

  He could see her through the flames, a fiery outline. Her arms were outstretched as she threw everything she had into trying to burn him, not understanding that it wasn't working. She was a mistress of fire. Everything burnt for her. Except him. He knew she was his. She did too. He could see the terror on her face as she saw him coming closer, sword in hand. But it was too late for fear.

  He struck, his ice sword taking off both of her outstretched arms as if they were spun sugar, and she screamed. He could hear her screaming because at the same moment she lost her limbs she gave up her fire. She couldn't maintain her concentration, lost as she was in her pain and shock. As she stared in horror at the stumps where her forearms had been and the blood pouring out of them. But he didn't give her any time to truly understand what had happened, as he sent the blade slicing through her neck.

  After that the battle was over. No one could think otherwise as the wizard's head fell to the ground, slightly ahead of her lifeless body. Alenda Goldeneyes was dead. And if anyone doubted it the sudden burst of flame that came from her lifeless corpse and which expanded out in all directions like water from a burst dam, had to be proof. She was dead and her magic of fire was simply exploding as it burst free.

  Naturally he could withstand that easily enough. The fire couldn't harm him and the other soldiers were far enough away that they were safe too. He hoped. It was hard to be sure when he was standing in a massive fireball and could see nothing but flame, but they had surely already taken cover when she had unleashed her flame.

  He had been lucky that Alenda Goldeneyes was a wizard of fire. It was almost the only calling she had and the one thing he was completely immune to. It not only had allowed him to survive her attack, but also her death. That hadn't always been the case when a Circle wizard died. When Rickarial had fallen there had been a huge explosion that had thrown everyone through the air for hundreds of paces and torn down a city wall. He had been lucky he'd landed well. But then Rickarial had been a wizard of fire and lightning and sky. Harl had only been immune to the first.

  In time the fire faded and Harl was left standing there over her lifeless body.

  It might be wrong, he wasn't sure – and he suspected Hera might have an opinion on things the next time he prayed to her – but seeing her fallen at his feet felt good. Even when she was in pieces, her blood flowing out all over the ground in puddles, and knowing that he had killed an old woman, it felt good. It felt like victory. One of the Circle was now dead. One of those who had brought the beasts to Lion's Crest, who had murdered his family and destroyed his home was dead. She was an old woman who had been killed brutally, but she was a traitor and murderer. Hopefully she was now heading to the underworld to begin her eternal suffering. With a little luck in fact she would be heading to Tartarus where the wicked ended up. And there she would find herself at the mercy of the demon king himself. And Xin had no mercy. He could but hope.

  It wasn't over however.

  The first he realised it was as he stood there over her prone body, and heard the sudden crack of lightning hitting the ground. The lightening didn't just hit it but smashed into it with a power he had never before witnessed. And then thunder shook the world. Massive thunder so loud that it made every other noise that had ever been seem quiet. So powerful that it shook the ground under his feet. And then the ground beneath the wizard's body started to open up.

  Harl quickly realised what was happening, though he hadn't considered the possibility until then. But then he hadn't given any thought as to what might happen when one of the Circle died. His focus was on killing them. But it was obvious really. The deal between the Circle and the demon Xin had been broken by the death of one of the members. And this particular deal was a spell of a sort. Normal spells when they broke released the magic that was bound up in them in often quite spectacular ways. But this was a spell like no other. Twelve of the most powerful wizards of the five kingdoms had made the deal with the king of demons. It had needed all twelve of them simply to hold their own against the terrible power of the demon. Now one twelfth of that deal had been broken, and the magic that was bound up in it was being released.

  “Run!”

  Harl screamed his warning as he turned tail and ran as far and as fast as he could away from the wizard's body, guessing that what had happened already was only the beginning. And he kept yelling it as he ran for as long as he could. But you couldn't run and scream forever, and by the time the first explosion of magical fury unleashed itself he was out of breath and nowhere near far enough away. But he suspected the distance wouldn't have mattered anyway. Not any distance he could run in only a few seconds. Suddenly Harl felt something incredibly powerful pick him up off the ground as he ran, and hurl him into the air.

  He saw the ground vanish underneath him, then come hurtling towards him again before he hit it harder than he had hit anything else in his entire life. He had heard of men kicked by horses, and the shocking pain they endured. This was like that except that it was worse. Everything hurt. Every single part of his body.

  Then he hit it again and he suddenly realised he was still moving. He was bouncing like a children's ball across the ground. But no ball ever made had suffered as many terrible hits as he seemed to be enduring.

  Harl smashed into the ground again and again, rolling and tumbling crazily, being flung up into the air and then crashing down hard, and were it not for the protection of the brigandine he knew he would have been killed. But even wearing it he knew pain. In the end it could only offer so much protection and the magic being unleashed was that of the greatest of all demons and a Circle wizard combined in one spell.

  Eventually the rolling and bouncing came to an end and he found himself lying on his back, hurting. But as he lay there, feeling as though a herd of cattle had just stampeded over him Harl, knew that it still wasn't over. Not when he could look up into the sky on a perfect late summer day and see nothing but blackness and more lightning. Lightning that danced across the blackness, unleashing itself in a fantastic display of might. An orgy of destruction – deadly destruction. Whoever or whatever it hit would not survive. Hail started falling while he lay there, massive chunks of ice hurling themselves into the ground, burying themselves deep in the hard packed earth, and Harl prayed that none of them hit him. Because there was no chance of his making it to his feet and finding shelter.

  Then, as if everything that had been before wasn't enough, there was a huge thunderclap and the sky tore itself apart. There was no other way to describe what happened. All he really knew as he lay there staring up at it was that the entire sky turned a brilliant blinding white as though lightning had flashed. But the lightning flash had not ended. And within that unbearable whiteness a massive streak of red appeared. The red of blood. It was like a cut in the actual sky. Then the cut became a tear as something pulled the two sides of it apart, the tear slowly became a gaping wound, and eventually the sky became an entire vista of red. The sky had turned to blood.

  What was happening? Harl didn't know. But whatever it was it was as though something vast had died. Part of the world itself.

  In time the redness began to fade, and what should have been there – the perfect blue of the summer sky – began to return. The roaring that had been everywhere slowly disappeared into the distance. The hail stopped smashing down all around for which he was deeply grateful, and in time even the lightning lessened off.

  Eventually even the sun returned and he was relieved to see that perfect golden orb of fire high above and know that he had survived. Because the one thing the golden light seemed to promise him was that it was over. It was more than just happiness that filled him though when he saw it. More than even relief which was washing over him in waves such as he had never known before. It was a feeling of rig
htness. As if for a time the entire world had been tainted. Corrupted somehow. And now the sun had returned to wash away that corruption with its golden light.

  In time a little more sunshine began to warm him as the day returned to normal, and he heard the sounds of people all around him returning to life. It had been a long time he realised since he had heard anything at all save the sound of thunder. And it was then that he knew he should try and get up.

  First though he needed to sheath his sword, which he was surprised to find was still in his hand. Somehow, even through all the madness, he had held on to it. As he did so he noticed that there were stains on it, black stains that he knew had once been Alenda Goldeneyes' blood. It looked as though in death her blood had dried out and blackened as if it had aged a thousand years. And he knew that if that was what had happened to her blood then the same or worse must surely have happened to her.