Dawn of Chaos

by Tony Donadio

  Finally he heard harsh commands being barked ahead of him. A cold voice called out, clearly and in excellent Carlissan. It bore barely a trace of the accent he’d heard from the guard earlier.

  “Captives of the Hellman Collective,” it said loudly. “You will remain kneeling and obedient. Any defiance will be met with swift and brutal reprisal. You will now raise your heads to be addressed by your liege, Zomoran, Warlord of Carlissa.”

  Kieran lifted his gaze. The speaker was a Hellman officer in black armor. He stood at the head of an entourage of red and black clad soldiers, and his helmet was off. The vermilion complexion of his face seemed almost to glow with a volcanic red light.

  The officer stood aside and dropped to one knee. The soldiers around him followed suit, parting to open a path between them. Through that path walked the magus himself. He reached the officer’s side, and then rested a hand on his shoulder.

  “Rise, Colonel Y’Thra,” he ordered. His voice resonated not only with power and authority, but a hint of impatience. “You and your soldiers have done well here today.”

  Y’Thra stood to attention at Zomoran’s side. The magus raised his staff, sweeping it at the rows of kneeling prisoners in a gesture of inclusion.

  “Today dawns a new day in the history of Carlissa,” he declared. “And an end to the long oppression of those you called the ‘People of the Dark.’

  “Since the Taming they have been driven underground, or forced to live in the harsh territories far to the north and west. They have been denied the equal access they deserve to the rich lands of Kalara by you, the so-called ‘Children of the Light.’ All of that will now change.”

  The assembled Hellmen burst into applause. Zomoran waited patiently for their cheering to subside.

  “It is fitting that this new age should begin here, in Carlissa, in the halls of the Grand Academy. For it is here that a new order of learning will be created to replace the old. The decadent Church of the Divine is at the heart of that old order, but its days — and its lies — are now numbered.”

  He began to pace, his manner dropping abruptly into what seemed more of a lecture.

  “They gave a name to those lies. ‘The Covenant,’ they called them, and cast them in terms of a battle between ‘Light’ and ‘Dark.’ As if all those who followed the Way of the Will were creatures of the night — or that all creatures of the night are evil, to be feared and killed. You can see the falsehood of that even now, as our forces take your city from you under the light of the midday sun.

  “Now you will finally learn the truth: that your ‘Covenant’ is a tissue of falsehoods. It is a doctrine forced upon you, thousands of years ago, by a pantheon of emasculated gods. Their sole aim was to use it to keep you weak. To frighten and control you. To rob you of your heart, your strength, your courage, your dignity, and your self-assertion. Those same gods have long since retreated to the far reaches of the cosmos before our power. Their pathetic magic can no longer save you.”

  Quiet cries and sobs rose from the kneeling prisoners. Zomoran paused to look sternly at them, glowering in disapproval. Y’Thra gestured quickly with one hand, and the whips of the Hellman guards went to work among the crowd. When the crying had finally subsided, the magus continued.

  “That is why I have come. To bring knowledge to you of the Way of the Will, which in your ignorance you call the ‘Dark.’ Under my tutelage, you will learn the truth that your masters in the Church have kept from you all these centuries. You will learn that the true path to the Divine — and to spiritual glory — lies not through weakness and humility, but through strength and audacity. Through the will of the strong, and the honest submission to them of the weak. To prepare them for the afterlife, where those with the strength of will shall impose it on the very Divine itself.”

  He cast his gaze around, and his face adopted a kinder expression.

  “Many of you cannot be blamed for your weakness and broken spirits. What else could be expected of you, raised under millennia of indoctrination? The irony of your Covenant is that even amid its lies, it admits the truth: that by its own emasculating doctrines, you are but Children. Under my teaching, you will finally grow up — and learn to become men.”

  He looked down at the regents and the professors in the front ranks, and his face hardened.

  “But for those of you who should have known better, there can be no redemption. You chose the life of seekers and teachers of knowledge and truth. But you have betrayed that calling.”

  His staff swept toward them in a menacing gesture. “When my fellow academics came among you, we sought nothing more than to call your attention to the existence of other ways. And for that, you condemned us to the fire. You cast us out, giving us over to your Inquisition. To be murdered, for daring to speak the truth. But unlike you, we were not weak, and we are no longer children. We refused to surrender to your treachery. And today is your day of reckoning for that betrayal.

  “Some of you may yet be redeemed, if you can unlearn the weakness and evil of your ‘Covenant.’ But that is a right you will have to earn — if you can. The rest of you will serve the Will, as is your destiny. And your children will learn the lessons that you could not. Their generation will remake your nation, and lead it into the embrace of history.”

  “Emil, please!” a voice cried.

  It was one of the regents. He was shaking his head violently, and tears were running down his cheeks.

  “Listen to reason! Perhaps we were harsh with you, and for that we are truly repentant. The Crown itself took the Inquisition to task, and chastised it for your prosecution. But to lead demons into the heart of Carlissa — you cannot believe this is a just response! We —”

  The Warlord glanced at Y’Thra. The colonel nodded and made another hand gesture. A Hellman guard near the speaker dropped his whip, drew his sword, and beheaded the man in mid-sentence.

  Cries and gasps filled the auditorium, and the whips went to work again to silence them. When the room had finally quieted once more, Zomoran continued.

  “This marks the first day of my rule over your nation. Today your capital is conquered, and the rest will fall swiftly to our demon army. Henceforth you shall know me as Warlord Zomoran, Black Magus of Carlissa.” His voice hardened implacably. “You will know me as both liege and teacher, and you will learn your lessons well.”

  He turned his back on the crowd and faced Y’Thra. “Are your troops ready, Colonel?” he asked.

  Y’Thra nodded. “Everything has been prepared, Your Excellency.”

  Zomoran nodded. “Then let it begin. Take slaves and spoils among the prisoners as you please. My only command is that the professors and regents be forced to witness the Taking. Spare them from death long enough to do so. They are yours to dispose of afterward.”

  Y’Thra frowned. “Are they to be spared from the Taking itself, then?” he asked.

  Zomoran smiled. “Not at all. That will be your choice. If they ‘witness’ it from firsthand experience, then all the better. Just do not release any of them to the Divine until they have seen — or tasted — the full meaning of our victory.”

  Y’Thra smiled. He saluted, fist to heart. “It will be as you command, my liege,” he said.

  He turned to face the auditorium as Zomoran strode from the room. He raised his right hand over his head, and then lowered his arm to face them, palm up. Then he closed his hand into a fist with a slow, grasping gesture.

  A whoop of excitement went through the assembled Hellman troops. Some of them immediately broke off to assume positions around the room, weapons at the ready. The rest — led by Y’Thra himself — gathered into groups that began picking their way among the rows of prisoners. Some of them were made to stand, to turn clumsily with their bound ankles, examined by both hand and eye.

  So this is how the Hellmen take slaves, Kieran thought numbly. Would they take him, too? Or would he be killed? He thought he should be terrified, but he found that all he could think of were the st
udents from the palace. He turned to watch them, and saw with horror — and as he’d feared — that Y’Thra and his lieutenants were making straight for them.

  He tried to twist against his bonds, to break free, to go to their aid. His reward was a stab of pain from his injured shoulder. He was powerless to stop what was to happen. He had failed in his charge. They would pay the price for that failure, and dearly.

  He saw Y’Thra force the girls to stand for examination, one at a time. Some of them wept openly, begging for mercy. The Hellman laughed, ignoring their pleas.

  As he watched he found himself thinking suddenly of Orion and Diana. The two had chosen to disobey his order and run off. He felt empty of his earlier anger now, even grateful for their defiance. Had they survived? Would they manage to escape? Or had they already been killed — or worse — by the horrors that were descending on the city?

  He saw that Y’Thra was smiling. He had settled on Lady Candace. Kieran wasn’t surprised. She was a notorious beauty among the young nobles, with flame-red hair and a temper to match. He was holding her bound wrists behind her with one powerful hand; the other was tearing away her dress with frightening ease. He saw her sobbing and wailing, her body exposed, as he began to touch her.

  As if their leader’s choice were a cue the others began taking captives as well, one at a time. Kieran didn’t understand the ritual, but it was plain that the bonds-grasping was their gesture of laying claim to a prize. He noted numbly that there seemed to be an unspoken order to the choices. Each Hellman was watching one of his fellows, waiting for him to choose before taking his turn.

  He lowered his head and closed his eyes. He tried to shut out the sound of Lady Candace’s screaming, but he couldn’t. Her every shriek was like a stab to his heart — shredding his pride, his honor, his sense of manhood. He had failed her. He had failed them all.

  A hot, slender, powerful hand grasped his bonds from behind. Startled, he looked up.

  The Hellwoman guard who had lashed him earlier was staring into his eyes. She was smiling. Though it didn’t seem possible, her expression had become even hungrier and more predatory than before.

  “Ahk vind kalth dormo khul,” she said. Her voice was husky with undisguised lust.

  She still held her whip in her free hand. Gently, almost tenderly, she stroked his face with it.

  Kieran closed his eyes, and she laughed. His unmaking was complete. He was no longer an officer of the palace guard. He was a prisoner of the Dark, utterly defeated.

  Chapter 13 - The Diaspora

  The Demon Lord’s Command

  Borr stood beside the hellgate, watching the sky to the east. Its serpentine lips curled upward in a rictus of satisfaction. Its last spell had reached completion. The two banks of clouds surrounding the city had converged into a great wall that shut out any view of the outside world. It was ready to move the final pieces needed for its endgame.

  It turned to look to its left. The winged demon lieutenant Usnaroth stood there, its bat’s head regarding its master with disciplined anticipation. Next to it knelt the wounded figure of Incanus Thad, head pressed to the ground in supplication. Black ichor still dripped from the wounds that Aron’s sword had dealt it during the battle at the palace.

  “It is time,” Borr said. Its voice was soft, but thick with sibilant menace.

  Usnaroth raised a great paw to its shoulder in salute. “What are your orders, My Lord?”

  “Give the signal,” it replied. “With the arrival of our allies, we need wait and prepare no longer. Keep only a single brigade here to defend me and the gate. Have the rest of our forces march into the city to begin the main attack.”

  Usnaroth nodded. “What of our air forces? They have suffered many casualties in the battle with the palace guard.”

  “You may withdraw the winged demons from the battle by the Cathedral. Have them return to their patrols over the rest of Lannamon. They have done their part well in preventing the King’s unexpected charge from breaking out of the High City, but they are not needed there any longer. Our new forces will take over that responsibility.”

  Borr’s snakelike neck twisted around in an almost languid motion. Its head looked westward along the palace road.

  “Send another regiment of battle demons to reinforce them,” it added absently. “Just in case. I doubt they will be needed, but I intend to risk no further surprises today.”

  “Who shall I assign to command the charge, My Lord?”

  Borr let out a hiss of displeasure. “There is still no sign of Captain Gorath?”

  “No, My Lord. It is not on the battlefield. Pack leader Nagoth claims the captain ordered it to establish a barrier formation, and then left it in charge to conduct some kind of investigation.”

  Borr whipped its snakelike head around in agitation. “Nagoth is little more than a grunt. No wonder the line collapsed.”

  “Yes, My Lord. It said that Gorath mounted a wyvern and took off toward the southern bluffs. It hasn’t been seen since.”

  “Take command of the attack yourself,” Borr said. “See to it personally, Usnaroth. Do not fail, and do not leave your post.”

  “Shall I start a search for Captain Gorath?”

  “No. It is no longer important. Do order it to report to me immediately if it reappears. Gorath has never been a fool, and there may be an acceptable reason for its absence.” The thin smile returned to its lizard-like lips. “I will give it a chance to explain itself before I rip out its brain.”

  It turned back to the hulking demon. “That is all, lieutenant. You are dismissed.”

  “As you will, My Lord,” Usnaroth replied. It saluted, and, wings beating furiously, took once again to the air.

  Borr lowered its gaze to Incanus Thad. The Captain of the Horde knelt, axe on the ground before it, awaiting its master’s judgment. Despite its pose of penance, its great body still spasmed involuntarily from time to time with shudders of fear and pain.

  “You have greatly disappointed me, Incanus,” Borr hissed softly.

  “Thanks to your failure, the palace has not yet been taken. Many of our strongest demons have been maimed or slain. Most of the royal family survived what was supposed to be a decapitation strike. Even now they lead a force against us, trying to unite with the warrior priests of the Church. Have you anything to say for yourself?”

  “Only that we encountered far stronger resistance than we had been led to expect, My Lord Borr,” it said. Its booming voice had lost its former power and resonance. Its body shuddered again, its head flinching as if from a traumatizing memory. “But that is no excuse for my failure. I submit myself to your will for judgment.”

  The jaws of Borr’s serpentine face twisted again into a smile.

  “I would be inclined to dismiss such a defense as the bravado of a weakling, Incanus,” it said thoughtfully. “But fortunately for you, I have looked into your mind and seen your memories. The minds of others who survived the strike corroborate your story.”

  The demon continued to kneel at its master’s feet. It said nothing.

  “The King called upon an unknown magic, unexpected and extremely powerful. Had I known that you would face such a threat, I would have ensured that your team was better prepared. So I regard your failure as not only your own, but that of our ally, and our spy as well, for their faulty intelligence.”

  “Yes, My Lord,” Incanus Thad said quietly. “As you judge and will it.”

  “There is also the matter of Aron Killraven to speak for you. Despite the threat from the King’s magic, you still managed to strike a blow against the royals by slaying the elder prince. And by making yourself the target of her wrath, you took the Queen out of the battle as well. Had it not been for the untimely arrival of the mages and their guards, that sacrifice might still have turned the battle in our favor.”

  Borr’s great eye suddenly narrowed dangerously.

  “But there is no room in my horde for a damaged battle captain,” it hissed. “The elf-bit
ch’s attack has shaken you, Incanus. You must gather your Will to recover from it, or you will be of no further use to me.”

  Borr signaled for the demon to rise. Incanus Thad struggled to its feet.

  “Go forth and re-join the fight — now. Master yourself, and re-claim your strength. Distinguish yourself in the battle, and you may yet be redeemed.”

  It bared its teeth menacingly, the threat in its expression unmistakable. “Quail, and I will feed you to the dragons myself.”

  Incanus Thad looked into the demon lord’s great eye. A hard expression took hold of its face. Slowly it nodded, and then saluted, fist to shoulder.

  “It shall be as you command, My Lord Borr,” it said.

  The Horde Captain’s wings spread out, beating the air. With a roar it launched itself into the sky. It flew in the direction of Mount Cascade and was quickly lost to sight.

  Nowhere to Run

  “The Lord of the Horde is springing its trap,” Elena said. Her eyes had once again taken on their faraway look. Her face was ashen.

  “Don’t risk it, my love,” Danor said anxiously. “If that demon lord senses you scrying and attacks, without the ward to protect you …”

  Her eyes slowly returned to focus again. “Your warning is well taken,” she said.

  “What did you see, Your Highness?” Darren asked anxiously.

  “The arrival of the dragons is what Borr was waiting for.” Danor noted with a sudden stab of concern that she was trembling.

  “Its forces are rushing out into the streets,” she continued. “They’re finally attacking the city in earnest. And there are more battle demons headed our way.”

  “And the dragons?” Danor pursued.

  The Queen turned to look at him. She was crying.

  “Flights and flights of them,” she whispered. “Fire giants ride them. They are girded for war, carrying great swords and spears.”

  She buried her face in her husband’s shoulder. His arms went protectively around her as she clutched the flanges of his armor.