Dawn of Chaos

by Tony Donadio

  He shook his head. He walked to where Flamebane had fallen to the tiled walkway and picked it up. He extended the blade to her, hilt-first, and she took it.

  “No,” he said. “The demons are moving to search this part of the city. We need to get away at once. Can you walk?”

  She nodded, sliding the weapon back into its scabbard. “Where to?”

  “I’ll lead the way. Stay close so I can keep the cloak tight around us.”

  He turned and strode away from the edge of the terrace. Without a word Randia slipped her arm into his and followed.

  Silent tears ran down her cheeks as they walked back toward the cliff-spur that rose above them into the Upper City South. There was hope yet. At least one person she loved had not been taken from her this day.

  The Sanctum

  Randia looked up along the sheer face of the spur. Lenard had led them past the reservoir to the waterfalls descending the cliff. She could see the channel of the aqueduct she had ridden high above her, its runners carved into the very rock of the bluff.

  “Which way now?” she asked. It was the first time she had spoken since they had started their walk.

  Lenard looked down at her and smiled. “Up, of course,” he said.

  He slid an arm around her waist. She did the same, holding him tightly. Air rushed suddenly around them as they began to fly up and along the face of the cliff.

  They had set out none too soon. The enemy had started to converge on the area before they had even reached the reservoir. Mostly winged demons had appeared at first, followed by dragons and finally by columns of Hellmen and battle demon infantry. They seemed to be moving to cut off the entire area, as though to prevent any escape.

  She knew why. A cloud of monsters was circling the gardens on the highest level of the terraces above them. They had found the carnage of their battle-scene. The demons. The guards of company twenty-three. Her brother’s body — and Stefan’s.

  She closed her eyes for a long moment, trying to shut the pain out of her heart.

  “Is that where Gerard died?” Lenard asked quietly.

  She looked at him in surprise, her blue eyes meeting his steel grey ones. “How did you know?”

  Lenard sighed.

  “It’s true, then. I feared as much when I felt you begin to use the ring after him. Still, I hoped somehow that I might be wrong.”

  “You felt the ring’s magic? When Gerard fought the demons to save me?”

  “Is that what happened? Yes, I knew that had to be him. The power I sensed was unmistakable. He was the only other Killraven who could wield it with such skill.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder, suddenly understanding.

  “But you couldn’t find us,” she said softly. “Because of his cloaking spell.”

  Lenard nodded. She could see tears running suddenly down his cheeks.

  “I tried, Randia. I scried for him, with all of the strength I dared bring to bear. I knew that you needed me, and that you were with him. I felt your imprint on the ring too, like a heroic song accompanying his battle. But I couldn’t come to you.”

  “You can hear the song?” she asked, astonished.

  “Of course. When you began to wield its power, uncloaked, it was like a beacon to anyone with our family’s blood. It’s what finally drew me to you at the end — just in time.”

  He shook his head, struggling to hold back his tears.

  “But I couldn’t save Gerard. I nearly exposed myself to the demon lord trying, but it was no use. Not with my grandson’s strength and skill, and with the ring’s power behind it.”

  Randia was silent for a time. Her grandfather was the Archmage. To everyone — and perhaps especially, to herself — he had always been a paragon of confident knowledge and power. She had never seen him look as he did now: like a vulnerable old man, helpless to stop the deaths of almost everyone he loved.

  She was surprised to find that it didn’t unnerve or frighten her. An intense empathy for him welled up inside her, and she tightened her grip around him. She knew how he felt.

  “He was magnificent,” she said finally. “He held that cloak levitating all the way across the city from the palace. And over an entire company of demons as he defeated them.” Her face clouded as she remembered Ashrach, and the spear. “Almost all of them.”

  She had lost track of their movements as they talked. When she looked around now she saw that they had risen hundreds of feet along the cliff wall. They slipped into a slim crevice in its face and her feet touched ground on the floor of a narrow cave.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “An antechamber of sorts.”

  “To what?”

  He smiled. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  He stepped into the narrow opening. It was barely wide enough for one of them to pass; she had to step behind him to follow. She rested her hand on his back, unwilling to let him out of her reach.

  The crevice met up almost immediately with a series of cracks just like it, all leading in different directions. Lenard’s staff shone with a soft light as he confidently picked a twisting path among them, leading deep into the stone of the cliff-face. It took her only a minute to become completely lost, but she followed him without hesitation. He was her grandfather, and she trusted him completely.

  After a few minutes and without warning, he came to an abrupt halt. The place where he stopped seemed unremarkable, just another spot partway down the length of one of the cracks that laced the interior of the cliff.

  He turned to face the wall on his right, and tapped it with the tip of his staff. The crystal head rested against it for just a moment. Then it slid into the stone, disappearing into the rock as though it weren’t there. Randia’s eyes arched in surprise.

  “An ethereal lock,” she said in wonder. “I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never actually seen one.”

  “I have something of a fondness for them,” he said. “They can be quite useful. Quickly now. Right behind me, and don’t stop until you reach the other side.”

  He stepped into the wall and vanished.

  She cautiously placed her hand against the stone, and it too disappeared into the wall. She felt an odd sensation as it did, as though she could feel the rock inside her body, in her very bone and muscle, as she passed through it. Unnerved but determined, she took a deep breath and pushed herself forward.

  Once she was fully inside the stone, she was dismayed to discover that the best speed she could manage was relatively slow. It was like trying to walk through water, only thicker and more viscous. She slogged on, holding her breath.

  When she finally emerged from it she nearly stumbled, but managed to catch her feet. She looked around — and gasped.

  She was at one end of an enormous hexagonal room. Enchanted apparatus were everywhere: mounted to the walls and ceilings, and scattered around the floor in a haphazard arrangement. Magic played around many of them, snapping and buzzing with immense power. Along one side of the hexagon she saw an active scrying panel showing a view of the city from above. On the opposite wall gleamed a dark black surface, shimmers of silver and gold playing around its edges and along its face. The wall opposite her had a door in the center that opened into a long corridor, leading into darkness.

  In the center of the room stood a large circular table. Metal plates inscribed with runes were set into it in rows around its circumference. Many of them glowed or flashed with multicolored magic. Lenard stood next to it, turned partly away from her, facing the scrying panel. His hands danced over the plates, touching them in a rapid and bewilderingly complex sequence.

  Randia stared at the chamber with wide eyes. It was every magician’s wildest fantasy of what a wizard’s laboratory could look like. It made the one at the summit of the palace tower look like a child’s playroom. She tried to find her voice and nearly failed.

  “What is this place?” she breathed in wonder.

  Lenard chuckled, but his eyes didn’t waver from what he was
doing at the mysterious table.

  “Welcome to the Sanctum of the Archmage, my dear,” he said simply.

  She walked slowly toward him, unable to tear her gaze away from what she was seeing.

  “The Sanctum!” she exclaimed. “But that’s just a myth! A legend of the Archmage Aldran, first of the Killraven kings of Carlissa.” She tore her eyes away from the room to look at him. “Isn’t it?”

  “Obviously not,” he replied drily.

  She stood by quietly, unable to find words.

  He continued his work with the glowing symbols. There seemed to be a pattern to his movements, and a progression, although she could only make out the most rudimentary elements of it. He was clearly using the rune-plates to prepare some kind of magic — but whatever it was, it was entirely beyond her understanding.

  In response, she began to see and hear changes in the magical apparatus around her. One by one the devices came to life as he completed each set of gestures. Intense magical energy played in and around them, humming with a promise of immense power. Panels of bluesteel runes set into the walls burst into incandescence, flashing in dizzying, incomprehensible sequences.

  Minutes passed in silence as the Archmage worked. When at last he seemed to have finished, he turned to face her.

  She knew that the moment had come. Whatever urgent magic he had felt the need to cast had at last been made ready. Without words they stepped forward and hugged each other tightly. They stood together, crying and sharing their grief, for a long time.

  City’s Fall

  Diana woke with a start. The glowing red eyes faded away. She looked around frantically, trying to remember where she was.

  Orion left the window to come to her side. She lay on the ground, wrapped in the blankets he’d found earlier. He put a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

  “Easy,” he said. “It’s just a dream. We’re safe for now.”

  She stared at him for a moment, as though she didn’t know who he was. Then memory flooded back, and she nodded.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “About half past mountainset. The light will be fading soon.”

  “And the city?”

  He closed his eyes. “It’s fallen. The palace, the Cathedral, even the Star. They’re all in flames.”

  She pushed unsteadily to her feet. “I need to see it,” she said.

  “You should get some more rest. You’re exhausted —”

  She shook her head. “I need to see it,” she repeated.

  Her voice was calm but insistent, and he nodded reluctantly. They stepped quietly to the window together. For a time they looked out, saying nothing.

  “Look at what they’ve done to the City of Rainbows,” she said finally. Her voice choked, but there was a hard edge of anger in it as well. “The death and destruction they’ve wreaked, and on the best people I’ve ever known.”

  She turned to face Orion. Tears were running silently down his cheeks.

  “It can’t be allowed to stand, can it?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No. And it won’t.”

  She smiled. “You’re still waiting for the Archmage?”

  He nodded.

  “He’s not coming, Orion. He’s either dead, or he’s fled. And I wouldn’t blame him for it.” She waved a hand at the burning city. “Not in the face of this.”

  “Perhaps,” he said quietly. “But I’m not giving up. Not yet.”

  Aldran’s Legacy

  Lenard stepped back, and the two broke their long embrace. The old man’s face was stained with tears, but the vulnerability in it was gone. His expression was set, determined.

  “Everything is ready,” he said firmly. “We’ll both need to prepare.”

  Randia nodded.

  “What will you do? Gerard said you would use the power of the ring to defeat the demons.”

  Lenard smiled sadly. “Is that what he told you?”

  Randia felt a knot of dread take shape in the pit of her stomach. She suddenly understood.

  “It’s not true, is it?” she asked.

  Lenard shook his head. “No,” he said quietly.

  “Then Gerard just told me that to get me to bring the ring to you.”

  “I wouldn’t blame him. It’s likely what your parents told him as well, to motivate him on his quest.”

  She looked bitterly at her grandfather. She felt the one hope she’d been holding onto begin to slip away.

  “Then you can do nothing?” she demanded. She immediately regretted her harsh tone, but found that she couldn’t stop herself. “All that conjuring you just did — what was it for, if not to strike back at the enemy? If not to —” Her voice choked, but she forced herself through it with gritted teeth. “To make them pay for what they’ve done?”

  Lenard’s steel grey eyes were hard. He looked at her for a long, silent moment.

  “I said that I couldn’t defeat the demons,” he said. “I didn’t say I could do nothing.”

  She drew in a deep breath to calm herself as he gestured toward the scrying panel. It showed a high aerial view of the city, teeming with monsters.

  “There are over twenty five thousand of the creatures in Lannamon now,” he said sternly. “That’s nearly a match already for the combined armies of the world, and more of them come through that gate every minute. The leader of this horde — a demon lord named Borr — is powerful, and has powerful servants. I’m extremely flattered at your confidence, but the notion that even I could defeat such a force is —”

  He broke off, biting back the bitterness in his own retort.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly.

  She shook her head.

  “I’m the one who should apologize, Grandfather. The girl who wanted to sing and dance, instead of learning magic and combat. To help prepare for a day like this. I have no right to ask so much of you.”

  She took his hand and held it.

  “But then, what can we do? Stefan and I were headed for the Star because we thought you could protect us, and would have a way to escape.”

  Lenard looked at her, his expression suddenly grave. “He was with you, then? Is he …”

  “Dead,” she said. The word was like pulling off a bandage, but it ended the pain quickly. “Buying me time to reach you.”

  He lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Randia.”

  “Is that what this was always about, then?” she asked. Her voice was thick with bitterness. “This quest with the ring? Gerard finding me, and the three of us using its power to flee the city?”

  He nodded.

  “I suspect that was your parents’ true goal when they sent Gerard on his quest in the first place. And you and I will do that, once the plan I’ve prepared here is set in motion. But flight would only delay the inevitable. That horde will conquer the world if it is not stopped. It has to be stopped.”

  Randia walked over to the scrying panel and looked at it. Her eyes were drawn to the image of the dome of purple magic that shimmered in the fading light. She touched it with a slender hand.

  “That’s what you mean to do,” she said finally, turning to him. “To destroy the hellgate.”

  He nodded again.

  “I honestly don’t know if I have the power,” he said candidly. “World gates leading to the demon realms are somewhat outside even my experience. But I have to try. If I don’t — or if I fail — then all of Kalara will be lost.”

  He gestured at the room around him.

  “Aldran did not share all of the secrets he found in the ruins of Janthala. This ‘Sanctum of the Archmage’ is filled with artifacts from it that he thought too powerful — and too dangerous — to fall into anyone else’s hands. It has been the charge of our line, handed down for the last two centuries, to guard this legacy.”

  “You mean to use their power to destroy the gate,” she said.

  “Yes. I began the preparations as soon as I realized what was happening. The castings required to channel their magic w
ere complex to say the least, and they took a great deal of time. Even with the sanctum’s cloaking ward it had to be done with great care, to avoid drawing the demon lord’s attention.”

  “Is it that powerful?”

  “It is formidable, and it has artifacts of its own at its command. I’ve been playing a game of magical cat and mouse with it all day — one that I almost lost several times.”

  “As I saw. What would have happened if it had found you?”

  “If it had managed to fix its sight on me?” he asked. “It would have been over. Cloaking spells have their limits, even in my hands. Once mine was pierced it would have known where I was, and sent its full power — and its strongest minions — against me.”

  He walked over to where the Silver Star Adventurer’s Academy showed on the scrying panel. The tower was a still burning column of flame.

  “It brought one creature in particular — a fire demon assassin of immense strength — that is almost a match for me by itself. That ‘Crimson Slayer’ is what finally breached the defenses at the Star.”

  A note of unmistakable pride crept into his voice.

  “The adventurers who stayed put up an incredible fight,” he continued. “They cast the dragon ward, as your mother did at the palace, and forced the battle demons to storm the grounds. They slaughtered hundreds of them before they were finally overwhelmed. They kept the enemy’s focus on them, helping to distract it from searching for me.”

  He smiled. “And for you, and for your brother. Your parents’ charge, and their last stand at the palace, did much the same. We would never have made it this far if not for their sacrifices. They gave us the one slim chance we have to stem the tide of the dark.”

  “Then we still have one?” she asked hopefully.

  “A chance? Yes. But we have to face the terrible truth about what that chance really is. It is not a chance to save the city. It is already lost. It is not a chance to save Carlissa. The demons will sweep across our land and conquer it. Nothing can stop that now.”

  Randia closed her eyes. Her heart sank as she thought about her people at the mercy of the demon horde.