by Tony Donadio
“But that’s just having a prayer answered,” he said stubbornly. He was one of the quieter and more sensitive looking boys, and the vehemence of his interjection seemed strangely out of character. “I mean, isn’t it? The gods live among the stars, and sometimes they hear our prayers. Don’t they?”
Orion smiled. “I have known priests who would agree with that,” he said. “The Order of Light, for example, holds precisely that view. Others in the Church consider it an appeal directly to the Divine for guidance or favor. Still others think it a subtle manifestation of the Magic. And there are those who deride the whole notion as a superstition that imbues innocent coincidence with unwarranted meaning.”
There was a rustle of whispers as the class digested his words. He had deliberately named an issue on which they would likely have been taught differing views. He could see that many of them were realizing it for the first time. He waited for their reaction to die down.
“The question ‘what should we do’ pervades our understanding not only of philosophy and religion, but of life as well,” he continued. “Even the simple query, ‘should we wish upon a star,’ is fraught with philosophical import — and the answer depends on the kind of world we live in. Is it a world where wishes are granted by communion with the Divine? Where our prayers to the gods are heard and answered? Where magic can answer the call of our minds, and not merely the spells of mages? Or are miracles merely examples of coincidence, in a world that is what it is without …”
His voice trailed off. A commotion was becoming audible from over the wall at the far end of the garden. It bordered the streets of the High City north of the firth, and of the central marketplace.
The students shifted, looking around. The guards were instantly on alert.
“That sounds like screaming in the distance,” one of the students said.
Orion nodded. He turned, gesturing for silence.
“Quiet, please. The guards and I will need to discern the source of this commotion, and if any action on our part is needed.”
One of the guards nodded at Orion’s words. He looked at the scholar with renewed respect. It was clear that he was the officer in charge, and that he’d just remembered it.
“Instructor Deneri is right,” he said, pointing to one of his soldiers. “Trevane, go out to the streets and see what’s happening. Report back here immediately.”
The Marketplace
“Surely you do not mean to give offense with such an offer? I am merely a poor and humble jewelry merchant. What would my wife say if I returned to her tonight not with a profit, but a loss? A loss! And a loss, no less, on an item of such dazzling beauty as this?”
He held the amulet up to sparkle in the morning sun. “See how the silver is worked in such an intricate pattern,” he said. “And laced with a delicate filigree of bluesteel tracing …”
The lady smiled. The merchant had managed the improbable task of looking both offended and pathetic at the same time. Then he had returned to his sales pitch without batting an eye.
They had been haggling for several minutes, and his performance had become increasingly entertaining as they went along. It might almost have been worth part of the price he was asking for the item. A small part. Almost.
“Perhaps ten percent purity,” she countered dismissively. That wasn’t true, of course, and she knew it. The alloy was at least twenty percent pure, even if it wasn’t of the exaggerated quality he was claiming. It was spell grade bluesteel for certain, though, and there was no question that the design was a dweomer matrix. A moderately competent artificer could easily get the dainty amulet to hold an enchantment, and she was more than moderately competent.
She looked at the merchant and arched an eyebrow. Nothing in her carefully cultivated manner or dress hinted at being a craftmage. So far, at least, he hadn’t given any indication of suspecting it. Hunting through the market for unidentified artifacts could sometimes turn out to be quite profitable, especially when she wasn’t marked for her profession. Wearing her finest outfit and feigning to be a haughty noblewoman tended to bring up the price a bit on its own, but not nearly as much as if the seller knew the actual reason for her interest.
The central marketplace of Lannamon bustled around them with late morning activity. Wheeled stalls were scattered throughout the huge plaza in a pattern that at first glance appeared random, but was actually quite ordered and regular. The spacing between them had been expertly designed to allow for a free flow of patrons to navigate the market’s many booths, while still providing plenty of space for shoppers to stop and browse their wares.
The plaza was circular save for two arcs, shaped like the crescents of nearly full moons. These carved out a small part of the great plaza on its eastern and western sides. A main road ran through the center of the marketplace, ascending into the hills and terraces of the Upper City to the north and south. Other roads branched from it along the way, following the long line of the firth to the east. The nearer ones disappeared into the streets of the Lower City, running through a maze of docks, shops and homes.
The marketplace itself was divided into sections for different types of products. Clothes, furnishings and other goods each had their place. Food stalls lined its eastern side, loaded with everything from stands of fruits and vegetables to butcher’s stations hung with fresh cuts of meat. The plaza there ended at the very tip of the firth in a curved and elevated pier that provided a magnificent view of the water. Restaurants could be found at intervals along its edge, and down short runs of stairs that descended to the level of the docks. The firth itself was filled with boats and ships of all kinds and sizes, their many colored sails dotting a background of deep sea-blue.
The western side of the plaza was also indented in a crescent, where it adjoined the city’s great amphitheater. Shaped like a long shallow bowl, the amphitheater sat at the foot of the High City to its west. The Lower City lay to its east. There was a huge, raised dais at its center that served as a stage, easily visible from anywhere in the arena around it. The ground there was covered with a lushly tended lawn of vibrant grass, comfortable for setting up blankets or chairs to watch whatever activity was taking place at its heart.
The amphitheater had been made for public events, from performances of plays and music to lectures, debates and speeches. The King often used it to address the people of the city. It was here that royal proclamations and decrees were announced and distributed.
Just such a proclamation had been planned for that very afternoon. A small group of clerks and heralds from the palace had arrived to begin preparations. Stands for distributing printed copies of the new constitution were being set up all around the dais.
It was along the western side of the marketplace that the more expensive goods could be found: fine weapons, jewelry, and magically enchanted items. That was where the merchant’s booth had been set up. The haggling pair stood near the amphitheater’s eastern gate.
“It is a pretty piece, though,” the lady mage continued nonchalantly. “I’ll give you twenty five sovereigns for it.” The amulet would be worth at least three times that when enchanted, and more if she stretched herself to try to spell it with a more challenging dweomer.
The merchant forced himself not to smile. That was already above the minimum price he had settled on demanding. He’d gotten it for fifteen himself, and twenty five would net him a tidy profit. Still, he wanted to try holding out for more.
“While that is more reasonable, My Lady, it is still surely too little for an item of such magnificent quality. I might perhaps be persuaded to come down as low as fifty —”
His voice was abruptly cut off by a sudden movement of air. A stiff wind had come out of nowhere. It swirled around them, blowing their hair over their faces. The merchant leaped to his cart to secure some of his lighter items. The lady looked around in annoyance.
Then she frowned. The wind seemed to be centered on, and much stronger within, the area immediately around the amphitheater
. She could see the clerks setting up for the afternoon proclamation rushing wildly around. Tables and chairs had tipped over, and some were even skidding across the ground. A box full of printed sheets — the first copies of the proclamation — had been blown open. Its papers were already being carried high into the air.
Her frown deepened. The sheets seemed to be following a circular pattern, as though the wind were forming a vortex about the center of the amphitheater. They swirled around and around, only to break suddenly free near the edge of the bowl and sail out over the city in random directions. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky to account for it, and it didn’t look like a natural weather phenomenon.
She turned back to the cart and cursed. The amulet was glowing! The filigree of fine bluesteel lines running through its pattern now shone with a faint bluish light. It was spell-grade alloy, all right, and even better than she’d thought. It was so good that it was actually resonating with nearby magic. Someone was literally conjuring up a storm, and their reckless casting was going to warn the merchant about what he had. If she didn’t act quickly she would lose a very profitable purchase.
Fortunately, the vendor was still busy securing his stall and hadn’t yet noticed. She hastily palmed the amulet to cover its glowing face, and smiled awkwardly at him.
“Truly, you do know your trade, my good sir,” she said, as he turned back to look at her in surprise. “Fifty sovereigns it is.”
She slipped the amulet into the pocket of her skirt, and took out and opened her purse. He looked at her curiously, wondering at her sudden change of heart, but his suspicion was dampened by the realization that he was about to make a very comfortable thirty-five sovereign profit. He tried to conceal his glee — not that it made much difference at this point, of course, but there were still certain standards of his profession to be maintained …
The lady tried to remain calm as she carefully counted out the gold coins from her purse. The price was most of what she had with her — a larger investment than she’d intended — but it would be well worth it in the end. She wanted to get the transaction done with quickly, however, and get away as soon as possible.
She could hear the wind picking up behind her, and the shouts of the clerks rising with it. She didn’t know what was brewing in the amphitheater. Any casting strong enough to make a bluesteel matrix glow visibly from hundreds of yards away, though, was — well, something she didn’t want to be too close to when it was completed.
She was at forty when she realized that the merchant was no longer watching her count out the coins. Instead he was looking over her shoulder, his eyes wide.
She turned, and saw with a shock that whatever the disturbance was, it had grown immensely in the brief time it had taken her to get out her purse. An electric haze had settled over the amphitheater, a hemisphere of eerie light that was becoming progressively darker and more opaque with each passing moment. The wind was a howl around them now. The rising commotion of the crowd in the marketplace behind them was barely audible above the din.
“Forty is good,” the merchant said abruptly. He expertly scooped the coins she had placed on the counter before him into a leather bag with a sweep of his hand. Then he brusquely turned to kick out the wheel-blocks on his cart.
“Thank you very much for your business, ma’am,” he said. “I’m closing my stand for the day.”
She barely nodded to him. She was still staring at the menacing dome forming over the center of the amphitheater.
“What do you think it is?” asked a woman beside her. She was young, and unlike the rest of the patrons, didn’t seem to be disturbed by the developing phenomenon.
“I heard there was going to be a major proclamation from the King and the High Council today,” she continued. “Do you think the Archmage could be preparing some kind of show to herald it?”
Had she been less distracted, the lady mage might have laughed. The idea that Lenard the Archmage would turn his immense power to the creation of a magic show was absurd, of course. He had much more important things to do. Still, the spell building in the amphitheater was stronger than anything she’d seen before. Could anyone but the Archmage have cast it?
“I have no idea,” she told the girl honestly.
She noticed a sudden uncomfortable warmth growing at her hip. She looked down and saw with horror that the light from the amulet was actually shining through the fabric of her dress. She slipped a hand into her pocket, and nearly scalded it on the hot metal. Hastily fetching out a kerchief she withdrew it, dangling from its chain, now blazing like a star in her hand.
She wasn’t alone. A quick look around confirmed that several other items in the stalls of the magic vendors nearby had begun to glow with the same bluish light. All bluesteel matrices, she guessed, and all with weak or no enchantments on them to damp their resonance with the magic building in the amphitheater. That she had never even heard of a spell powerful enough to do that sent a chill up her spine like nothing she’d ever felt before.
“Hey! Is that amulet I sold you magical?” the jewelry vendor demanded indignantly.
The mage paused at the absurdity of the complaint. She found herself torn between competing urges — to snap an angry retort, to stare with fascination at the frighteningly building spell, and to dash like mad to get away as quickly as possible. The latter urge took only a few moments to win out, but those moments proved fateful. Even as she hiked up her skirts to run, she felt the power of the spell build to a crescendo and engage.
A wave of force erupted from the darkening hemisphere. It struck the mage with a sound like a dull thud, throwing her and the young woman backward as though shoved by an enormous hand. They landed on the ground, stunned. The vendor’s cart shielded him from the brunt of the blast, but it toppled over, spilling much of its wares in the process. Its owner desperately tried to leap aside but failed; he was caught beneath it as it fell.
The mage struggled back to her feet. The young woman was lying on the ground next to her, whimpering hysterically. The vendor was staring in slack-jawed pain at the darkening sky, his legs pinned beneath his fallen cart. Scattered gems and jewelry lay on his chest, and on the cobbled street around him. The entire western end of the marketplace was strewn with fallen people, carts, and wares.
The mage looked back toward the amphitheater. A translucent dome of hazy purplish magic had settled over it. It was enormous, covering about half the arena’s diameter. Outside its boundary, clerks, tables, and boxes of proclamations lay scattered across the grass like leaves tossed by a gale.
With a gasp of horror she saw that everything within that dome had been crushed — impressed into the grass of the arena as though stomped on by a giant boot. One man appeared to have been right at the edge when it had formed. His torso lay outside, struggling feebly, his broken lower body extending into the glowing surface.
A point of scarlet light appeared at the dome’s apex. It began to spread, racing along the surface away from its point of origin. Its leading edge was a circle of fire that rushed toward the base of the hemisphere, where it met the ground. It continued into the earth, severing anything in its fiery path. It put the maimed man who had been caught at the edge out of his misery as it passed, parting his torso as though sliced by the blade of an impossibly sharp knife.
The surface of glowing magic had been rippling as if formed. Now, it began to settle. As it did, a strange vista appeared to coalesce within it. It was like looking into a gigantic lens, in which everything nearby was blurred and out of focus, but the panorama behind could be seen clearly.
A blasted landscape met the lady mage’s gaze. The sky was dark with clouds, and cast little light on the terrain below. It was barren, rocky, and mountainous. Drifts of ash lay everywhere, tinting the scene with an ominous, gray cast. A great peak dominated the background, little licks of flame dancing around a river of lava that ran from its riven summit and down its side.
Winged creatures wheeled in the distance. They were too far
to make out, but they looked almost like giant bats or insects hovering and circling in the smoke-filled air.
“Is that — Hell?” a voice squeaked beside her. The young girl hat stopped whimpering and climbed to her feet. Her eyes were fixed on the vision within the dome, and she was shaking. “And is something moving in there?”
The mage dropped her gaze to the blurry foreground. The girl was right. She still couldn’t make it out, but whatever it was, it was definitely in motion. It was a huge, roiling mass of … something, low to the ground. It seemed to be surging toward them in waves, growing larger and more distinct with each passing moment …
She realized what was happening with a stab of insight and horror. It was impossible, unbelievable — a thing out of legend — but nothing else could explain it.
“Hellgate,” she whispered.
A figure began to emerge from the roiling background. The mage stared at it, eyes wide. A part of her mind screamed numbly at her that she should run, now, but she didn’t seem to be able to move her legs. Instead she watched, paralyzed with fear, as it approached. Its appearance sharpened into full focus as it stepped through the edge of the dome and strode into the city.
It stood about twelve feet in height. It was man-shaped, walking upright on two legs, and wore what looked like a harness of some kind of red, leathered straps. A heavily muscled body of jet black skin showed through that harness in many places. Its texture gleamed as though wet in the bright morning sun.
Gigantic wings covered with black feathers shrouded it like a cloak. They came unfurled as it walked, reaching out to either side, beating the air menacingly. As they did they revealed two arms carrying an enormous axe with a viciously serrated edge. The axe shone with an evil red light.
The creature strode boldly across the amphitheater. It finally stopped when it was about halfway between the edge of the dome and the marketplace. It turned from left to right, surveying the city and its people. Then it unfurled its wings to their full extent, threw back its head, and laughed.