Bishta the Black

by Jada Fisher

  Bishta the Black

  Fall of the Sages, Book 5

  Jada Fisher

  Copyright © 2021 Jada Fisher

  All Rights Reserved

  Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. All people, places, names, and events are products of the author’s imagination and / or used fictitiously. Any similarities to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by J Caleb Design

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Thank You

  Prologue

  Bishta

  At last, things can finally start to come to an end.

  Bishta the Black, Sage of Death and Darkness, sat around her meager fire with her bare legs crossed, the brisk wind biting into her skin, making gooseflesh along her slender limbs. But she didn’t mind. She was used to this feeling, feeling cold and hollow at all times, despite the flames, despite anything.

  She sometimes thought that maybe she could walk into the fire and it still wouldn’t make her warm. She wouldn’t test that theory, though.

  There was, however, something that gave her a glimmer of warmth in her chest: the information she held in her hands, the many, many notes she’d scribbled and remembered from the Library of Angnorr. All the profane and dark knowledge she’d so hastily acquired, all of it necessary and helpful, but it all paled to this.

  Finally, she thought, finally I can end the line of sages for good. With this.

  It wouldn’t be easy, and it would likely be the end of her too, but she was okay with that. Bishta didn’t have any illusions that she’d receive a happily-ever-after when her mission was finished. There was no happy ending for her. This wasn’t a fairytale. This was a ghost story, a tale of horror, and she was the monster.

  And she was perfectly okay with that.

  As long as she rid the world of the sages and humans, she would be happy to die with a smile on her face knowing that she gave the world another chance. A chance to thrive without the greed and destructive nature of humanity. Without them, there would be no need for the sages to maintain balance, as it had been in a time in the world’s ancient past, in a time even before the creation of the portal system.

  It was a time of primordial gods, old secrets, and untapped, untamed magic. When spirits light and dark flourished. Before any of the sapient creatures of the earth had immerged.

  Of course, Bishta didn’t begrudge the High Dragons, the mer, treefolk, or giantkin. Though they held no greater or lesser intelligence than humankind, they were not ambitious, they held no greater greed that could consume the world. No, it was humanity alone that was a threat to everything.

  Her fellow sages stood in her way. They coddled and protected humanity and let them do as they pleased, never attempting to rein them in—especially Reshni. She saw fit to even oversee her city’s callous and brazen assault on the wilds.

  They all must be eliminated.

  With this knowledge, she could do it. She could end them all. But first, she would need to defeat them, and that would be no easy feat. She only just managed to defeat that doddering oaf Brokar, but he managed to pass on his powers before she was able to learn how to sever his line permanently. She hadn’t meant to kill him then. That had been an unhappy accident. He’d sought her out and she had no choice but to end him.

  Bishta would have liked to start with that fool Grear and all his bluster about their connection. Sure, he was right, they had one, one that screamed in her heart, mind, and soul from across the eons that they’d been linked. Those memories roared inside her, urging her to listen to him and give in.

  She hated it, hated the voice, hated that tug in her chest that made her want to cry and give way to his madness. She hated him. She wanted nothing more than to kill him outright, but he was becoming stronger by the day, and the Sage of the Light was always and would always be the equal to the Sage of the Dark.

  So, Grear would have to wait. Killing Reshni would have been the most satisfying, since she put her lot with the humans, but alas, the Sage of the Sun was too strong for Bishta, not with her injury. Same with Gayla the Green, Sage of the Earth, oldest and most powerful of her kin. Thus that left only one logical first step: the fledgling sage, the young mer who’d become the Sage of the Seas.

  The dark sage didn’t want to have to kill the girl. She was mer, and new, and didn’t deserve this fate. But it didn’t matter, the mermaid had to die.

  Bishta’s stomach grumbled as another icy wind stabbed at her skin. She shivered and pulled her tattered cloak around her, though it did little good. She moved closer to the fire and pulled the charred squirrel from the spit. Bishta had never been good at cooking, so this one was a bit too crispy, but she ate it, nonetheless.

  The char was terrible on her tongue and there was almost no flavor, but the feel of her stomach getting filled was enough to make her content.

  As she ate, the air on the other side of the fire shimmered, and her large spirit friend Munla appeared. He was a more manageable size this time, his mossy hide about the size of a small cart. His eyes glowed red tonight, and his moss fluttered gently. He cocked his head and blinked.

  “There’s no more for you, sorry,” Bishta said, feeling his hunger.

  “Ock el vasgote ine.”

  “I’m fine. Just worry about yourself and helping me when the time comes. I’ll be leaving very soon.”

  Munla huffed in that way he did when he was angry or annoyed with her. He didn’t really convey his emotions well, at least not in a conventional sense, but she read him pretty well. He had, after all, been her only companion for several decades now. The only one who agreed with her mission and would stop at nothing to help her.

  So they had their disagreements, but he would always have her back.

  Once she was finished with her meal, she downed a horn of goat milk that was uncomfortably warm and close to being too old. As it was, the hints of sourness made her want to gag, but she’d run out of water, and high atop this mountain there was none to be found. At least none close enough. Bishta wasn’t about to scale along the peaks in just her rags and risk plunging to her death. She was an all-powerful magical being, but she wasn’t immortal in the way that mattered.

  Feeling not at all refreshed, Bishta gasped and wiped her mouth, tossing the horn into her pack. She groaned and stood, using her staff as a crutch, before kicking dirt onto the fire. The night surrounded her then, encroaching from all sides. There was no fear, though. She was the dark. She would have missed the fire’s warmth, though, if she’d felt it.

  With a yawn, she stretched her arms and legs. There was still pain and exhaustion from her fight with the Sage of the Light, but she’d recovered enough. Besides, she didn’t need all her strength to kill the fledgling sage. Likely that girl didn’t have full grasp of her powers.

  It would be easy.

  “Let’s get to it then,” she said. Munla nodded and mewled, then shimmered and disappeared. He wasn’t gone, though. He’d simply rendered himself invisible. He was almost always with her, though he was little help when it came to fighting sages. That was one thing they couldn’t compromise on. He refused to harm them, out of some strange sense of honor and
respect for their positions. Munla would help her and not stop her as she killed, but she would not get his help when facing them.

  So be it. That was an argument well past resolved. He had his principles and she had hers, and that was that.

  With one hand on her black iron staff, she thrust out the other and scrunched her brows as she concentrated. “Muste skul slumreng va.”

  The words felt like tar on her tongue, hot and heavy and impossible to swallow. They held a lot of power, these ancient spells and magics. They were not easy to use. But she was able to muster her strength. Her hand and arm shook, and her veins turned to black with the profane magic.

  Suddenly, the air before her darkened even further and became thick like ink as a black portal bubbled and coalesced out of thin air. It sounded like a boiling cauldron and smelled foul, but Bishta couldn’t help her wide smirk. A few of the other sages had their own ways of teleporting about without the use of portals, and at last, so did she.

  Now nothing will stand in my way.

  And so, the Sage of the Dark, Bishta the Black, took a deep breath, steeled herself, and stepped through the murky doorway with murderous intent in her heart. Her mission would finally come to its final stages. Victory was coming and she would savor every second of it, even if it was the last breath she ever took.

  1

  Tuni

  She’s here!

  She’s here, she’s here, she’s here.

  Tuni’s mind was in a frenzy as fear rushed through her veins and made her freeze. And for good reason, because the Sage of the Dark, the magical behemoth that was causing the world to crumble into disorder and chaos, was here before her and the new sage Asoka. And she did not look happy.

  She emerged from the swirling black vortex, her black hair twirling around her as if she were underwater. Once the vortex disappeared with a sickening squelch, her hair fell around her bony shoulders.

  Her eyes were like dark pits, sunken and accented by thick bags that made them look almost bruised. Whatever the sage was up to, it didn’t afford her a lot of sleep, because she looked absolutely haunted and exhausted. That being said, her rage and bloodlust weren’t diminished in the slightest, and Tuni didn’t doubt that she could kill them easily even in her seemingly fatigued state.

  “Wh-who are you? What do you want?” Asoka asked in a shaky voice, even though Tuni and her both knew very well who this was and what she wanted. But any way to stall for time was good in her book.

  The dark sage chuckled, her thin, severe lips curving in a cruel smirk. “Let’s not be too coy, young sage. We all know who I am and what my intentions are. I am not so ignorant as to believe that a servant of Gayla the Green would be out of the loop about my actions.”

  Tuni frowned, her brows furrowed, and stepped forward to shield her friend. “You’re Bishta the Black, and you’ve come to kill us.”

  Her smirk got wider, almost wicked in its intention. “Very good, wildling, though I’d be happy to let you be. I only have the pretty mer in my sights for today.”

  Tuni whipped out her bow, nocked an arrow, and had it aimed at the dark sage’s heart in a blink. “You w-won’t be touching a single h-hair on her head.”

  “And what do you possibly think a puny arrow would do to me?” Bishta laughed some more, and there was no hint of compassion or even human in the sound. It was something wholly cruel and utterly evil.

  The wildling tried to steel herself and maintain her courage, though the power radiating from Bishta made it very hard. Her arms trembled as she kept her aim. “You are no god. You can be killed just as easily as I can.”

  Bishta cocked her head in amusement. “I am no immortal, true, but we sages are not so fragile that a mere wooden bow could kill us.”

  “Maybe not, but I’d wager it wouldn’t feel good to have an arrow in your gut.”

  The sage kept her smile, but Tuni could tell that she was growing tired of this exchange, which wasn’t a good thing for them. Asoka, bless her, pushed past Tuni, her staff gripped almost confidently in her hands.

  “Why are you doing this? Why cause all this suffering and destruction on the world? Why come after me?”

  For a moment, Bishta almost looked like she was taking some pity on Asoka. Her brows relaxed and her wicked sneer simmered to just a pair of pursed lips. Her staff hung loosely as she let it droop almost to the ground.

  “Poor child,” she began, which was annoyingly condescending considering she looked no older than them—although Tuni knew that meant nothing to a sage. Gayla, after all, looked their age as well or even younger and she was over a thousand years old. Bishta was likely the same.

  “This must feel so unfair, to be so suddenly and so forcibly saddled with this burden, and then to have someone like me come to kill you. Believe me, I understand how infuriating that is, to have your whole world changed so unfairly. But this is just the way things have to be. Your sacrifice will help this world recover.”

  Tuni gritted her teeth and practically growled. “Help this world recover? You’re making the world fall apart.”

  “I am doing what must be done, whelp!” Bishta barked with such force that Tuni found herself taking a step back. The sage slammed the butt of her staff against the earth. “Humans destroy everything in their path. They burn and steal and kill, and if they are not dealt with, then the whole world will suffer. Surely, you know that better than most. Gayla has long been on the opposite end of human greed and expansion.”

  “You… You…” Tuni clenched her fists, and it took all her willpower not to run up on the sage and punch her—even if that would probably got her killed. Arms trembling, she cried, “I know humans cause a lot of harm. I’ve seen the damage. But it is the result of a select few that have a lot of power. Most are good, decent people.”

  Bishta sneered. “No one is innocent.”

  “Yes, they are!” She put her hand over her heart as pain swelled in her chest. “My mother, sister… They and my village were innocent. We lived in harmony with the wilds, with the spirits. We were as innocent as can be and your demon slaughtered them.”

  “Tuni…” Asoka said, but Tuni didn’t look back. She only had eyes of rage for the dark sage. She thought she’d more or less accepted what happened to her family, but seeing the real person who was responsible for their deaths… Tuni was on the brink.

  She was not an angry or hateful person. She never held grudges and was usually very forgiving. So this new feeling, this lust for revenge. It was frightening and enticing, and she didn’t know if she should hate it or welcome it.

  Bishta eyed her like a hawk circling a mouse. It made her skin crawl. For whatever reason, she didn’t offer an excuse or even a retort to learning that her creation had killed everyone. And Tuni knew the sage didn’t care.

  “This is your last chance, girl,” Bishta said calmly, her voice like ice. “Go in peace now and I will spare your worthless life. Stay, and you will suffer my wrath along with your friend.”

  “I’ll never run,” Tuni said. She raised her bow again and shot her already-nocked arrow.

  The arrow sailed through the air and right at Bishta’s face. Tuni had aimed to kill.

  But Bishta hadn’t been lying. It was hard to kill a sage. Faster than should have been possible, she whipped her staff up and deflected the arrow as if swatting away a mosquito.

  Tuni never got a chance to shoot another arrow.

  With just a flick of her wrist, the dark sage sent Tuni flying. She was thrown off her feet and through the air at terrible speed. All she could do was yelp and call Asoka’s name before she broke through some branches and disappeared into a thicket.

  She hit hard against a tree and the wind was torn from her chest. Tuni slumped to the ground, her back screaming and her lungs heaving. Everything hurt. Her bones rattled, cuts and bruises marred her arms and legs from the branches she’d busted through, and her legs were jarred from the impact with the ground.

  It didn’t feel like there was any
one injury that was catastrophic, nothing broken and no stabs, but the collective whole didn’t feel very good.

  She stumbled forward, hands clutched at her chest as she tried to reclaim her breath and ease her aching, pounding heart. It was hard to breathe, and she could hardly see through her blurry vision.

  The sounds of a magical battle sounded through the trees, and she knew that Asoka was fighting for her life against a far superior opponent. Tuni had to do something, but with her bow useless against Bishta’s magic, it seemed unlikely that there was much she could do.

  Wait! Gayla’s potions!

  That had to be the solution! Gayla must have had some sort of potion that could help turn the tide. Dorrick’s order of knights had a potion that could cause an unmanageable fire and one that could put it out with tremendous winds. And they weren’t magical herbalists that knew how to use every single bit of nature in the world. Gayla would have something.

  Shaking her head to clear her vision, she saw dark shapes coming toward her, along with a sound like rushing water over earth. She thought maybe she was seeing things, a trick of her throbbing head. But as her mind and focus cleared, she realized she wasn’t seeing things at all. Dark, shadowy creatures were crawling toward her, and they didn’t look friendly.

  Their skin shifted like bubbling tar, and they seemed to be made of the same terrible substance as the demon that had so thoroughly changed her life. These were smaller and changed shape, from harts to birds to large insects to things she couldn’t even describe. All the while, their glowing white eyes stayed on her. Dark spirits.