Chaosmage (Age of Darkness)

by Stephen Aryan

  “How many attack each night?” asked Tammy, studying their defences and the street in front. It was obvious just from the way she stood that Tammy had some professional military training. Zannah would be glad to have another strategic mind to work with on their defence. Then again they also had on their side the most famous and feared Battlemage in the world.

  “It varies,” said Zannah, resting one hand on the hilt of her sword. “Sometimes two dozen, sometimes more. They always come in waves to wear us down and they’re always gone before dawn.”

  “Why dawn? Are they scared of sunlight?”

  Zannah shook her head. “We thought so at first, but once someone has been turned into one of the Forsaken, they change and become nocturnal. They thrive in the dark and seem to prefer it.”

  Alyssa noticed Zannah hadn’t told them the full story. How she’d captured one of the Forsaken alive and staked the woman out in the street. When the sun rose they’d expected something dramatic, for the woman’s skin to burn or for her to transform in some way. All she’d done was keep screaming and cursing them until Zannah cut off her head.

  “How many defenders do you have?” asked Tammy.

  “Surely our number don’t matter any more,” said Alyssa, gesturing at Balfruss. “Can’t you just wave your hands and stop them all?”

  “It’s not that simple,” he said. “Using a lot of magic is like lighting a bonfire at night on the horizon. Anyone in the city with magic would feel it. At the moment they don’t know I’m here or what I can do. I can channel small amounts of energy and remain unnoticed, but I’d rather not alert them to my presence just yet.”

  “They? Who are they?” asked Zannah.

  “You know that something in this city is twisting and tainting people,” said Tammy. “We believe the cause might be magical in nature. I’m here to find out what or who is responsible for the Forsaken and where they are in the city. Balfruss is here to deal with the threat if it is magic.”

  “When the time is right, I will use the full weight of my power,” said Balfruss. Alyssa smiled in an attempt to pretend she felt reassured. Instead an icy finger of fear traced its way down her spine.

  Alyssa could understand their reasoning, but a part of her was disappointed. She’d hoped their arrival marked the end of their nightly imprisonment in this makeshift shelter and that life in the city could return to some semblance of normality. Despite everything that had happened to her over the last few years Alyssa was amazed that she still had the capacity for hope in her heart. She murmured a silent prayer of thanks to the Blessed Mother for her continuing strength and knew that she would and could endure life as it was for just a little while longer.

  “Tell me more about what we can expect tonight,” Tammy was saying, but Alyssa’s attention had drifted. As Zannah lay out what normally happened she felt as if they were being watched. Peering down into the courtyard she saw that people had started to creep out of doorways and were staring up at the strangers. She drifted down the stairs and a cluster of children surrounded her, their tiny faces full of hope.

  “Is he really a wizard?”

  “Is he going to save us?”

  “Is that woman a giant?”

  The questions were endless and Alyssa found herself smiling down at the children. Whether the arrival of the priests and the Battlemage marked the beginning of the end, or merely another chapter, they had already made a difference. Some of the children didn’t remember anything except poverty and desolation, but now for the first time in their lives their eyes showed a sense of wonder. The possibilility now existed that they wouldn’t always have to live like half-starved prisoners. Balfruss and the others had given them a glimmer of hope.

  “Yes, he’s really a wizard,” said Alyssa. “He’s the most powerful Battlemage in the world. She is a giant and together they’re going to save us.”

  It might prove to be a terrible lie but seeing the unbridled joy on their faces was worth it. If the worst should happen, and the Forsaken did overrun their shelter, she’d make sure the children were taken care of. It would be quick and painless, which was far better a fate than what might await them if they were taken alive.

  CHAPTER 12

  Zannah wiped the blood from her sword and noticed a few more nicks on the edges. She’d need to sort those out during the day before the Forsaken returned.

  Dawn was a few hours away but there was still work to be done before she could rest. The attack had been moderate in comparison to some in the past. Almost two dozen Forsaken had attempted to breach the walls. The tall Seve woman, Tammy, had proven to be exceptionally skilled with a blade and possessing a huge amount of stamina. Throughout the fight she had remained calm and perfectly balanced, severing grasping arms and taking heads off with efficient strokes that wasted no energy. Her sword looked like Seve steel but the surface had an odd sheen as unusual colours swirled across it. Whatever it was made from didn’t really matter. Any weapon was only as good as the person who held it. The sword became a deadly blur in Tammy’s hands and she proved to be a stalwart ally on the wall.

  While Zannah had expected Tammy to be adept, it was Balfruss who had really surprised her. She understood Battlemages wielded magic and could summon the elements, but they were not known for being warriors. And yet someone had trained Balfruss to fight with the wicked axe he always carried on his belt. It became an extension of his arm that he used with brutal efficiency, lopping off arms and splitting skulls like overripe fruit.

  Tammy’s abilities spoke of precision and skill learned over countless hours of practice. Balfruss’s ability was less well defined but equally devastating. Normally Zannah had to kill almost every Forsaken who made it to the top of the wall, while the other defenders just kept them busy. With the three of them working together they made short work of those who scaled the ladders, while archers under Alyssa’s guidance took care of the others in the street below. No one even came close to being taken and the Forsaken quickly retreated before they were all killed.

  When the last of the dead bodies and bits of limbs had been thrown over the wall the others retreated into the main building. They never wanted to see what happened. Balfruss and Tammy stayed on the wall, their blood-spattered faces set in an almost identical grimace.

  Alyssa went below and returned with the knotted rope that Zannah had attached to the laden cart blocking the gate. With a casual flick of her wrist, Alyssa threw it over the wall then took up her post with a bow.

  Tammy and Balfruss followed Zannah over the wall into the street to inspect the dead and dying Forsaken. Balfruss squatted down beside one decapitated woman before shaking his head and quickly moving on to the next. A man with his left arm ending at the shoulder and the right at the elbow was writhing in the street. His neck was bent at an awkward angle, one leg was folded beneath his body and his spine was probably broken. The fall from the wall wasn’t lethal but it was high enough to break bones. Zannah raised her sword but Balfruss waved her away.

  “Why not?”

  “Give me a moment,” said the Battlemage, holding one hand just above the man’s heaving chest. Balfruss closed his eyes and a strange prickle ran up Zannah’s arms, making the fine hairs stand on end. Magic.

  An itch started at the bottom of her spine and worked its way to the top before settling on her scalp. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but Tammy shook her head. Whatever Balfruss was doing he needed to remain undisturbed.

  Balfruss lowered his hand and then sat back on his heels, staring at the man with a thoughtful expression.

  “What is it?” asked Tammy.

  “It’s not what I was expecting,” muttered Balfruss. “The Warlock used magic to enslave people by hollowing out their minds. They walked and followed commands, but they weren’t really alive. This is different,” he said, gesturing at the man, who was trying to get up despite his broken bones and missing arms.

  “I think I recognise him,” said Zannah. “I killed him a few days ago, but th
ey took his body away before I could take his head.”

  Balfruss pursed his lips. “And once you decapitate them, they never come back?”

  “Never.”

  “Something is keeping him alive,” said Balfruss. “If it’s magic I can’t feel it, but there’s something tethering him. There’s an echo of something I’ve never felt before.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Tammy, and Zannah felt equally confused.

  “Something out there is connected to him,” said Balfruss, gesturing vaguely at the wider city. “I can feel something, but it’s barely there. It’s like trying to grasp a single strand of a cobweb blowing in the wind. I can feel it against my face, but I can’t see it.”

  “Can you sense which direction it’s coming from?” asked Tammy.

  Balfruss shook his head, visibly agitated at not knowing.

  “We can’t stay in the street too long,” said Zannah, scanning the nearest buildings. With the torches at her back the gloomy street was as clear as day, but the situation could change at any second. Another attack in one night was not uncommon.

  Zannah moved up beside the injured man and, with a practised manoeuvre, she nudged him forward with one foot until his head was hanging forward towards his knees. Before the Forsaken could topple to one side she sliced through his neck, severing the man’s head from his body. It slumped to one side and his shuffling feet instantly stopped moving. There was no delay, no final gasp or burst of activity like a headless chicken. The man died just like any other.

  Balfruss knelt down beside the man and held his hand over the silent corpse for a few seconds.

  “There’s nothing there now,” he said. “Whatever was connected to him is gone.”

  As Zannah moved towards the next twitching corpse Tammy touched her lightly on the arm. “We’ll help,” she said, meeting Zannah’s gaze. “You don’t have to do this alone any more.”

  Zannah didn’t say anything but she pointed towards the next flailing figure. They took turns dispatching the Forsaken until the road was silent except for the sound of their breathing and the sputtering of the torches above the gate.

  Tammy and Balfruss went up the rope first while Zannah kept an eye on the street. For once, when Zannah climbed, she had no fear of it snapping when she was halfway up. Alyssa was there as always, a sad look on her face as she stared down at the headless corpses. Her lips moved in an almost inaudible prayer as she gave each of them a final blessing. Before a sneer could twist her lips Zannah turned away and went down the steps to her room to catch a few hours of sleep.

  When Balfruss woke up the next morning his lower back and shoulders were aching from carrying the heavy pack and fighting on the wall. After dealing with the dying Forsaken on the street he’d been shown to a small cell-like room where he could sleep. Zannah had explained that the attacks were sometimes hours apart and he would be woken at the first sign of trouble. The golden light filtering in around the edges of his door indicated it was a few hours after dawn. It seemed as if the Forsaken had only attacked the base once last night.

  Taking a deep breath he sat up and slowly began to ease the tension from his muscles with a series of stretching exercises. He moved from one position to another, his mind focused on his breathing, but on the periphery of his vision he knew someone was watching him. When he came to the last stretch, reaching towards the ceiling with his hands before lowering his arms, he glanced at the door, which was now slightly ajar. A small boy of maybe seven was staring at him with a mixture of fear and awe. When he noticed Balfruss watching he squeaked and hurried away.

  Balfruss scrubbed the sweat from his body and then pulled on a fresh shirt before picking up his father’s axe. He knew it was strange to still think of the weapon as his father’s, but he couldn’t help it. He’d only been carrying it for a year and was still getting used to it.

  As he stepped into the corridor Balfruss saw a few other people moving about. Almost all were local people from Shael with golden skin. Every face was thin from lack of food and their skin looked dull and lifeless. Nevertheless they seemed reassured by his presence. It was a refreshing change compared to how he’d been treated during the war.

  On his way to the stairs Balfruss passed several doors through which he saw rooms identical to his. Each narrow chamber had been converted into a bedroom, but most were empty of people. He could smell baking bread and hear a rhythmic sound he’d become familiar with in the northern jungle. Someone was grinding wheat or something similar to turn it into flour. Further down the corridor he heard the murmur of conversation and the rattle of needles as people continued knitting an endless supply of gloves and hats.

  Balfruss ascended two short flights of stairs and emerged into the courtyard of their shelter. He took a moment to study the buildings around him in daylight. When they’d arrived at the gates yesterday the light had already been fading and he’d not seen much beyond the gloomy corridors and the top of the wall. Now he could see the four short towers around him with their connecting wall. There was only one way in and out of the shelter, through the main gate, and each tower was only two storeys high. A set of stairs on each wall zigzagged up to the walkway, which was protected by a waist-high parapet. Several people were keeping watch on the wall, including Zannah.

  Balfruss felt a chill and rubbed the skin on his arms through his shirt. It was a lot colder here than in the north and winter felt much closer. He should have worn his coat.

  He glanced around for Tammy and Alyssa but there was no sign of them.

  “They’ve gone out on a supply run,” said Zannah, coming down the stairs towards him.

  “Did the Forsaken return last night? Did I sleep through it?”

  Zannah’s yellow eyes were troubled. “No, they didn’t come back.”

  Having spent time among the Morrin he was comfortable with her slightly wedge-shaped face and pointed ears, but he’d noticed everyone else here stared at her with open hostility. Given what the Morrin had done during the occupation of Shael he certainly hadn’t expected to find one defending the camp. Zannah was aware how much they loathed her and did her best to hide it, but Balfruss could see the continuous tension in the set of her jaw and shoulders. She expected them to attack her at any second, to stab her in the back or maybe smother her while she lay sleeping. He wondered how many times they’d tried and failed.

  “Can you show me around?” asked Balfruss. “I’d like to see the rest of this place.”

  “Follow me,” said Zannah, leading him back down the stairs and along the corridor.

  “What did this building used to be?” said Balfruss, staring at the identical doors. “I can’t work it out.”

  A brief smile touched Zannah’s face. “You’ll see.”

  They went down another flight of stairs and Balfruss found an identical corridor to the one above. There were more people down here, sewing, grinding wheat, talking and just spending time together. A few children ran around but even here, underground and behind a high wall, the parents kept an eye on them. Not every face was local and despite the danger outside they were nervous of strangers. Here and there he saw groups of people who were obviously family but others had banded together regardless of their nationality.

  Zannah led him down three more sets of stairs with identical corridors before they finally reached something different. The air was much cooler here and a short corridor opened onto a long and broad brick-lined chamber. Running down both sides of the room from floor to ceiling were racks filled with hundreds of wooden barrels.

  A network of glass tubes and heating pans connected several barrels, distilling the contents into something more flammable to burn for fuel.

  Long tables with marble surfaces lined the centre of the room where a dozen people were kneading dough. They didn’t stop their work but a heavy silence fell until he and Zannah had stepped into the next room.

  “This is the city’s only remaining winery,” said Zannah, leading him through a network of small ch
ambers which had been converted into bakeries, storage rooms for food and bathing rooms. They passed six stone-topped wells beside which several men and women were drawing up water. “There used to be a dozen in the city, but they were all destroyed. I’m told the wine in each barrel is priceless. Now we mostly distil it to fuel our fires and keep the dark at bay.”

  “And to cure the sick,” said a familiar voice that was slightly slurred.

  Kai was leaning against a nearby wall with a bottle of wine in one hand and a slightly puzzled expression. His eyes were glazed and he seemed unable to stand up by himself.

  “Have you been drinking, priest?” asked Zannah.

  “No,” said Kai, shaking his head a little too emphatically before taking a swig from the bottle. “Well, maybe a little.”

  “I need to check on the wall,” said Zannah, turning her back on Kai.

  “Thank you, Zannah,” said Balfruss. The Morrin nodded, frowned in Kai’s direction and marched away.

  “I don’t think she likes me very much,” said Kai, gulping down some more wine. He frowned at the label and then turned it around to show Balfruss. “Do you know anything about wine?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Pah. It’s wasted on all of you,” slurred the priest. “Take my word for it. This stuff is like silk on the tongue and they just leave it sitting around.”

  “I thought you’d be too busy curing the sick to get drunk,” said Balfruss.

  “I’ll show you. Come on,” he insisted, wobbling from side to side. They walked along a winding corridor before coming to another brick chamber lined with racks for barrels. Half of the chamber had been cleared and a temporary hospital set up with beds fashioned from the wooden racks. Several white-clad priests moved around the room tending to the people lying in beds. Another pair of priests sat and prayed with the patients. The atmosphere in the room was not what Balfruss had expected. He’d spent time in several hospitals over the years, as a patient but also visiting friends. Each had the same atmosphere. One that spoke of sorrow. This hospital seemed lively by comparison.