Chaosmage (Age of Darkness)

by Stephen Aryan

  With that, Alyssa set off towards the old temple and they hurried after her, the sisters racing ahead to scout the streets. Kovac fell in step beside Tammy, a troubled look on his face.

  “Say it,” said Tammy.

  “Do you really want Fenne and his people in the camp?”

  “No, but they might be all that stands between us and the Forsaken.”

  “Fenne might play nice at first, maybe even appear all meek and humble, but he’ll turn on us,” said Kovac. “It’s just his nature.”

  Tammy didn’t disagree but she wasn’t sure they had a choice. She knew Alyssa had some of her people keeping a close eye on all of the mercenaries in the winery, just in case one of them stepped out of line. It would be no different with Fenne and the others. Things would be a lot more crowded though, and she’d have to work extra hard not to punch him in the face whenever she saw him.

  Tammy didn’t realise she’d muttered the last part out loud until Kovac chuckled.

  “I think we all feel like that. He has one of those faces.”

  When the old temple came into view at the end of the street Tammy’s shoulders tensed. She tried to unclench her muscles but the place was clearly having a similar effect on Kovac and the other mercenaries.

  As they came closer the sisters spotted something and ran ahead. The mercenary called Prince took up the front position, putting himself between Alyssa and any danger. She started to move forward but Prince urged her back and they paused as the sisters checked for any danger.

  “What is it?” asked Tammy.

  Kovac squinted at the temple and clenched his teeth. “Look at the gate.”

  It took Tammy a few seconds to realise what was amiss. The gate was open. The sisters disappeared through the gate while the rest waited in silence, listening for the first sounds of trouble. Tammy scanned windows and doorways, convinced that someone would come racing towards her at any second. A few minutes later they came trotting back down the street, armour rattling and spiky hair waving.

  They still held their weapons ready but the urgency had faded from their movements.

  “Whole place is empty,” said Teela. “Not one body inside.”

  “Any signs of a battle?” asked Tammy.

  Teeva shook her head. “Doesn’t make sense. How’d the Forsaken get inside without a fight?”

  “I might be able to help,” said a voice to their left. A figure stepped out of the shadows between two buildings. Prince shoved Alyssa behind him and the others formed a protective line.

  The ragged figure of Roake stepped into the street and slowly raised his hands in surrender. His clothes were ripped and covered in filth, and his pale golden skin was now green and blue in places. Parts of his scalp had come away revealing bright pink flesh underneath. His soiled clothes hung off a body so bony he resembled a freshly dug-up corpse.

  “Kill it,” hissed Teela, starting to move towards Roake, her sister a second behind her.

  “Wait!” shouted Alyssa. The tone of her voice carried sufficient authority that the sisters froze, their weapons inches from Roake’s face. He didn’t seem alarmed and when they stepped back he looked genuinely disappointed. Alyssa gently moved the others aside until she stood facing the dead man.

  “Do you know this creature?” asked Kovac.

  “This is Roake,” said Alyssa.

  “He’s one of the Forsaken,” said Teeva. “We should kill it.”

  “When was the last time you saw a Forsaken so ragged?” asked Alyssa. “What do you want, Roake?”

  He lowered his hands but there was really no need. It was clear he didn’t pose any kind of threat. “I know what happened to them,” he said, gesturing at the temple. “Fenne invited the Forsaken inside.”

  “He wouldn’t do that,” said Kovac, although it didn’t sound as if he really believed what he was saying.

  “I was here when he opened the gates,” said Roake. “He gave everyone to the Forsaken. In return he kept his own skin and wasn’t Embraced.”

  “This could be some kind of Forsaken trick,” said Teeva, and her sister nodded emphatically, readying their weapons for a fight.

  “All he had to do was let everyone else die to save himself,” said Roake. “He gave them an army.”

  “What are you?” asked Tammy.

  She felt slightly sick when Roake grinned, showing off black and yellow gums with a few remaining rotting teeth. “I was taken and the Forsaken tried their Embrace on me.” He lifted up one side of his shirt to reveal an open wound in his right side below his ribs. It was the size of two fists and it looked as if something had exploded out of his chest. “It didn’t work.”

  “Blessed Mother save us,” murmured Alyssa.

  “That’s impossible,” said Kovac.

  “He might be telling the truth,” said Tammy. “This is the second time I’ve heard a story like this.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” said Alyssa. “What do you want?”

  “I’ll tell you, but only you,” he said, gesturing at Alyssa. Despite protests from the others she moved them aside and boldly walked right up to Roake. It wouldn’t take much for him to reach out and snap her neck. If he truly wanted her dead he could do it quickly and they wouldn’t have time to stop him. Alyssa knew the risks but she stared him straight in the eye, almost daring Roake to try.

  Instead he merely leaned closer and whispered something in her ear. Alyssa flinched, either at the smell of him or at his words. She considered his request for a minute and then nodded.

  “He’s coming with us,” she said, holding up a hand before anyone could argue. “He has information that might prove valuable.”

  Tammy was remembering what the old man, Perron, had told her in the temple about his friend. Roake might be a lot more useful than even Alyssa realised.

  They set off the way they’d come, Roake walking in the middle of the circle beside Alyssa. The sisters resumed their position at the front while Kovac and Tammy followed at the rear.

  “Do you know what happened to everyone?” asked Kovac, gesturing at the temple behind them. “Have they all been changed?”

  Roake’s rotting smile was grim but his words were more chilling. “Oh no, it’s worse than that. The time of the Embrace is over.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Alyssa. “I thought the Forsaken wanted people for their Embrace.”

  “They do, but the Embrace was only temporary. It was an incubation period while the parasite grew to maturity.”

  Tammy could see Alyssa was afraid to ask but they had to know. “What happens next?”

  “The balance of power will shift and the outer shell will be remade.”

  “Into what?” whispered Alyssa.

  Roake shook his head. “I don’t know and I pray we never find out.”

  CHAPTER 38

  As Balfruss walked through the empty streets of Voechenka he found himself thinking about the Warlock.

  Long before the war, the Warlock had been a young man named Torval who was driven by a thirst for knowledge and then later, a hunger for power. He’d claimed to have visited every country in the world during his travels, but Balfruss knew this to be a lie. Torval had never spent time across the Dead Sea living with the jungle tribes. But he had come to Voechenka and studied under the tutelage of Kaine, who’d taught him dangerous magic that should have remained lost.

  During the war the Warlock had felt no guilt about anything he’d done and Balfruss suspected Kaine would feel the same way. They both did it because they could and they wanted to. To them it was just that simple. The consequences didn’t matter. In their minds they were the centre of the world and everyone else was less important.

  While the world turned Kaine had been lurking in the shadows of Voechenka, delving into the darkness and uncovering magical Talents few would want or even consider. Not content with damning himself, he had taught others and sent them out into the world. Each Flesh Mage had been responsible for many deaths and the Warloc
k had helped drag most of the world into a war where thousands had died.

  Kaine shared the blame for each of those deaths, for every warrior killed on the battlefield and every friend Balfruss had lost fighting the Splinters. He had to pay for all of the innocent blood that had been spilled.

  Balfruss also wondered about the nature of the Forsaken. The parasites were not natural and even Kai had said as much. It seemed plausible that Kaine was also responsible for summoning them. Perhaps he had opened a rift to somewhere beyond the Veil, just as the Warlock had done. If so then there was even more blood on Kaine’s hands than Balfruss had realised.

  The old rage, the legacy from his father, was still there simmering under the surface. Long ago he had learned to control it and had sworn it would not be his master, but in this city it was becoming more difficult by the day to rein it in.

  As he normally did when he needed to calm his mind Balfruss traced the fine tattoo on his wrist. He ran a finger over every whorl and twist, over and over, the design forming an eternal chain that could never be broken. Not by distance or death. He pushed away his fury and buried it deep under layers of control where it wouldn’t interfere with what had to be done.

  Reaching out, Balfruss delved deep into the Source, then cast a fine net across the city, stretching it as far as he could in all directions. Now that he and Kaine were the only two people able to touch the Source, Balfruss hoped it would be easier to find the other Sorcerer. Despite their differences, Balfruss could not deny Kaine the honorary title and all that it entailed. They had both become more than weapons, more than Battlemages.

  The battle between them would not be one of raw strength. It would be a complex game of attack and counter-attack, feints and tricks intended to catch the other unawares.

  Balfruss had no idea if a simple echo net would help him find Kaine, but it was the easiest approach. After that he would have to try more elaborate means to locate him.

  Much to his surprise Balfruss felt an echo almost immediately. Kaine was very close. He tightened the net to a narrow area ahead and to his left, while using more magic to amplify his senses. It was far too easy. He suspected a trap and moved forward with extreme caution. When he entered Debrussi square and saw Kaine sitting on a pile of rubble it merely confirmed his suspicion. It would be madness to idly sit out in the open and wait for the enemy.

  Balfruss paused at the edge of the square and carefully studied each building for traces of magic. Using the finest filaments of power he could manage, narrower than a human hair, he crawled through every window and doorway with his senses. A first pass revealed nothing, but he knew that some magical traps could be crafted so that they remained dormant until triggered. If Kaine had noticed his presence he showed no signs of alarm and seemed content to doze, chin resting on one hand.

  Balfruss’s second and third searches revealed nothing as well, which only made him more nervous. It would be unwise to underestimate Kaine. There could be elaborate traps hidden in ways Balfruss couldn’t even begin to imagine.

  Finally, after weaving a dense shield around himself and with his heart beating loudly in his ears, Balfruss set foot in the square.

  Nothing happened. Kaine continued dozing and nothing sprang at Balfruss. It was only when he scuffed his boots against a loose pile of rubble that Kaine woke with a snort, glancing around with bleary eyes.

  “Ah, there you are. I thought you weren’t coming.”

  Balfruss ignored him for a moment. There had to be something he was missing.

  “There’s no one else here,” added Kaine. “You killed all my pupils.”

  “You left me no choice when you broke into their minds. You took away their free will.”

  Kaine waved a hand dismissively. “They were idle children who had no ambition. I forged them into something useful for my purpose.”

  The Warlock had said almost exactly the same thing when he’d created his Splinters. They were men and women born with the ability to wield magic who’d never had the opportunity of being trained at the Red Tower. The Warlock had hollowed out their minds and made them nothing more than walking puppets who fought with magic at his command. Kaine’s invasion of his pupils’ minds had been worse, as they still thought they had free will. They had been living in a prison they couldn’t see or feel and yet they had been enslaved by him.

  “Do you know how many people died because of the Flesh Mages or the Warlock?”

  “No, but does it matter?” asked Kaine.

  Balfruss forced himself to stay calm. It wasn’t just that Kaine lacked empathy for the dead. He seemed to be completely without a conscience. Even so he couldn’t accept that Kaine would do all of this for no reason.

  “Why do any of this? Why spend so many years delving into mysteries if not for some purpose? Why send Flesh Mages out into the world? What is it that you want?”

  Kaine sat upright and seemed to focus on Balfruss for the first time. “That is the right question.”

  When the silence between them had stretched out for a while Balfruss realised he wasn’t going to get an answer. Kaine was looking straight at him but he was completely motionless. “Are you waiting for me to guess?”

  “No. I considered telling you, but really, I don’t see the point. You’re stuck in the past, in the old way of thinking. You still belong to the Red Tower. I can see their thumb resting firmly on your head, Battlemage.”

  “And you? Who do you belong to?”

  “To the future. I will create it here, in the shadows. I will build my own Tower if I must. A Black Tower.”

  Balfruss laughed and shook his head sadly. “With what? Rubble and corpses? That’s all this city has to offer. You have no pupils, no resources, nothing but your arrogance and your mania.”

  Kaine shrugged. “I can always find more pupils. The Red Tower is broken and a lot of children never find their way there.”

  “That’s changing. It’s being rebuilt.”

  “It will fail. The Grey Council are gone and cannot be replaced.”

  Balfruss was growing tired of Kaine. The more he talked the more Balfruss realised there was no changing his mind. He had lived this way for decades and no matter what Balfruss said he would never accept reason. There was nothing that would make Kaine reconsider his decisions.

  “Did you wait here for me just to argue? Or do you want something?”

  Kaine smiled and Balfruss readied his shield. “I want everything.”

  There was a subtle shift in the air and Balfruss felt something brush against his skin. “Everything?”

  Kaine stood up and his air of nonchalance faded. “I know all about your travels to the desert kingdoms. I know about what happened during the war and how you defeated the Warlock. I even know about the years you spent across the Dead Sea with your father. I want every scrap of knowledge that you’ve picked up, every Talent, every drop of it.”

  A wall of force lashed out across the square so fast Balfruss barely had time to brace himself. It collided with his shield and the power behind it was so great he was thrown backwards. He flew several feet through the air and collided with a wall that collapsed as he landed. Stumbling to one knee, trying to catch his breath, Balfruss shook away the black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

  “Give it to me!” said Kaine, reaching out with one hand and making a sharp twisting motion.

  Something began to claw at the edges of Balfruss’s mind, like a rat trying to burrow its way into his skull. He felt a growing pressure against both temples as if ghostly fingers were trying to dig their way through his flesh to get at his brain. The power of the attack was strong, but the method was crude, relying on brute force and surprise. Now that he knew what Kaine wanted Balfruss reinforced the shield around himself with one hand while weaving a net around his mind. He started at his heart and again mimed pulling something over his head like a cowl, covering his eyes and nose. The pressure against his skull faded as he blocked Kaine’s attempt to break into his mind.


  Steadying himself against the broken wall, Balfruss pushed himself upright. For a moment Kaine seemed surprised that the fight wasn’t already over, but then a sneer twisted his face. Removing what little heat remained in the air, he created a shower of icy needles, which he flung at Balfruss. The icicles shattered against his shield and fell to the ground with tinkling sounds like breaking glass. Balfruss retaliated with a globe of light, which he hurled into the air above Kaine. He quickly turned around and covered his eyes as the globe exploded into a hundred burning spores as bright as the sun.

  Behind his back he heard Kaine howl in pain and surprise. Whipping round, Balfruss saw the Sorcerer stumbling about, one hand rubbing his red and watering eyes. The blindness wouldn’t last for long and Balfruss needed to press his advantage.

  Trying to outmuscle an opponent with brute force was something he’d done as a pupil at the Red Tower. They’d tested their strength against one another and the old adage was true about their always being someone stronger. Since then he’d learned many subtle and cunning ways to unbalance another magic user.

  The earth beneath their feet was dead. Nothing grew in the soil, no seeds lay dormant waiting to grow and no insects crawled. As Balfruss lashed out with his magic he saw Kaine’s shield flicker as it refracted a meagre burst of sunlight. Instead of targeting him directly Balfruss directed his will at the stones, bedrock and soil beneath Kaine’s feet.

  Moments later the surface collapsed, an eight-foot-wide sinkhole ripping through the square. Kaine dropped out of view without a sound.

  A pregnant silence filled the square and Balfruss waited. The fall wouldn’t have been deep enough to kill Kaine, but it might have broken his legs. As the seconds stretched on, Balfruss wondered if Kaine was actually dead. After all that he’d done, it would be a mistake to assume anything. Balfruss would only believe Kaine was dead when he looked into his lifeless eyes and not a second before. He inched a little closer until he could look over the lip of the sinkhole.

  The air temperature turned noticeably colder and Balfruss felt a dull throb of pain in his finger ends and other extremities. A funnel of cold air was sucked down into the sinkhole in a whirling cloud of ice. Slowly Kaine emerged from beneath the ground, walking up a set of icy stairs he’d crafted, spitting and cursing.