Chaosmage (Age of Darkness)

by Stephen Aryan

  The ladders rattled against the wall and people beside him began lighting bottles and hurling them down at the Forsaken. Others fired their bows, and at this range it was impossible to miss. All around him was a whirlwind of activity but he remained perfectly still and calm.

  “Two figures. One short, one tall,” said Teeva.

  “Can you hit them from here?” he asked, unsure if her bow would reach that distance. She squinted again, checked the wind against her finger and nodded.

  Not far away in the street, flaming figures were running around like headless chickens, knocking ladders aside, but he ignored them.

  “We need to take them both out at once.”

  “Then you’ll need me for that,” said Teela from his other side, resting a hand lightly on his arm.

  He smiled at her. “I will need you both.”

  “Who are they?” asked Teeva, rolling her shoulders. She casually kicked a creature in the face as it reached the top of a ladder. On his other side Teela stabbed a Forsaken in the throat three times and threw it from the wall. Prince held his sword ready but didn’t use it, even though the battle was raging around him.

  “I think they’re Generals, or whatever the equivalent is for them.”

  “Keep the Forsaken off my back,” said Teela, moving to stand beside her sister.

  “I bet you miss,” said Teeva, nudging her sister’s elbow.

  “Do that again and I’ll throw you off the wall,” snarled Teela, but there was no heat to her words.

  As a grinning creature climbed over the wall in front of him Prince was finally forced into action. With a weary sigh he assumed Climbing Ivy stance and from there made three elegant cuts. The Forsaken slid apart into pieces and he nimbly stepped aside to avoid the blood.

  The sisters drew their bows and leaned backwards, making small adjustments until they were finally satisfied. Their two arrows flew high into the air, disappearing into the night sky. Prince was forced to kill two more Forsaken that wandered too close before he saw the arrows come down.

  Just beyond the fire he heard two distant squawks of pain and both figures stumbled and then fell. One landed in the fire and its clothing burst into flames.

  Almost immediately something went out of the creatures attacking them. They hesitated, looked at one another in confusion and their coordination fell apart. Several were cut down by people on the wall, who clubbed and hacked away at them. Prince gestured for the twins to go along the wall in one direction as he went in the other, clearing it of the enemy with short efficient strokes. The people around him began to cheer as the Forsaken fell before his onslaught, but his mind remained elsewhere, watching the rest of the fight and trying to calculate what they would try next.

  When their section was clear he gestured for the defenders to start tipping away the ladders. They threw themselves into the task with glee, perhaps thinking the fight was over.

  He knew they had a short reprieve at best. He needed to know if other parts of the wall were being directed in the same fashion.

  Moments later the Forsaken gathered their wits and started to attack again. Almost immediately, Prince could see it was different from before. They were less organised and attacked as a mob again rather than as precise groups. This second weak attack was easily repelled and the remaining creatures withdrew in an almost sullen silence.

  The others needed to know.

  “I’ll be back,” he said to the twins, sheathing his sword and heading for the stairs.

  Zannah watched as the tall mercenary moved from one section of the wall to the next. He spoke with several people each time and she picked out a few words in the din but little else. A moment later she was distracted by a trio of Forsaken that made it to the top of the wall.

  A couple of local people battered the threesome with their swords, using them as if they were clubs. Their blows were ill-timed and did little more than dent armour and inflict superficial wounds. Nevertheless it kept the enemy distracted, allowing her to come up behind and hamstring two of them. They stumbled to their knees and slid off the wall into the winery courtyard, where those waiting in reserve made short work of them. Before the third Forsaken could attack, Zannah rammed her sword under its chin and up into its brain. It shook for a few seconds like a headless chicken and then died. She didn’t know if cutting off their heads was necessary any more. They would worry about that later.

  So far the Forsaken had been pushed back every time they managed to get a foothold on the wall, and the breach had been closed. But the people of Shael were not used to fighting and their stamina was already flagging. Unless something was done soon, they would be overrun.

  She saw Prince coming up the steps but didn’t turn towards him until he spoke.

  “Someone is directing them. Giving them focus,” said the mercenary. “There!” he said, pointing over the wall. Zannah followed his outstretched arm and saw a pair of figures standing at the rear of those attacking. “We took them out on our part of the wall and their coordination fell apart.”

  “I think I can hit one of them,” said Alyssa. “I’ll pick a few others, to make sure.”

  Normally six archers would be overkill for two targets but Zannah knew the odds were not good, given that they had so little experience. She and Prince kept the Forsaken away from the archers while they readied themselves and fired. Two arrows landed short, a third went long, but thankfully three hit the targets. The taller figure was hit in the torso and the shorter in the head and neck. As soon as the arrows reached their mark a wave of confusion passed through the creatures in front of her. They stumbled and stared around in shock.

  “Press the advantage. Clear the wall,” shouted Zannah, shoving people into action, lashing out with her sword, stabbing and slicing anything in her path. Other mercenaries saw the change in the enemy and urged their squads to take the initiative.

  Slowly the tide began to turn and by the time the Forsaken had recovered their wits, it was too late. A ragged cheer went up around the base as the whole wall was suddenly clear of the enemy.

  Wasting no time, Zannah urged that the injured be taken away and called up reserves waiting in the courtyard. They were fresh and eager to get into the fight. The Forsaken had been pushed back but it wasn’t over yet.

  CHAPTER 43

  Rudderless and without their war leaders, the Forsaken united behind Fennetaris. He stood among them, an outcast from his own people and from the living, marshalling them like soldiers in his army.

  Once, long ago, he had been a decent officer, but his cruel and vicious streak had been his undoing. Brought up on charges several times he would eventually have been hung if they’d not been ordered home. The fact he had stayed behind showed that he’d not belonged among his own people, even back then.

  Now, the Forsaken were relying on his old skills and survival instinct to help them win against a stubborn enemy. His eyes met Zannah’s across the battlefield and Fennetaris grinned, showing his intent without saying a word. There would be no falling back this time, no reprieve and no mercy. He intended to kill them all. Every man, woman and child.

  There was a brief lull and then the creatures started to spread out around the base on all sides. A silent signal was given and in unison they charged at the winery, howling and screaming with inhuman voices, their white eyes reflecting the light from the fires.

  Balfruss cursed and kicked out at the creature in front of him. He missed its knee but caught it on the thigh, making it stumble back hissing in pain. As it started to raise its sword he brought his axe down with both hands, swinging from the hips. The blade bit deep into the Forsaken’s skull, cracking it open like an egg and spraying grey brains everywhere. He shoved it aside and buried his axe in the back of another, right between the shoulder blades. The two men it had been harrying stabbed the Forsaken and then hurled it aside, grinning with savage glee. Their moment of triumph quickly faded as two more creatures replaced the first.

  Soon after, Balfruss saw one o
f the men die, falling from the wall with a dagger in his belly. He was too far away to help and snarled in frustration at the creature in front of him.

  With plenty of room to swing, Balfruss spread his feet wide to keep his balance, and sliced at the enemy. His first swing cut a Forsaken across the chest, his second took the arm from another and his third nearly decapitated yet another. Advancing slowly and with grim determination he drove the enemy back, offering them no chances to get close.

  Elsewhere the defenders were not faring as well. He saw countless people cut down as they feebly attacked, their energy and bravery gone, replaced only with weariness and desperation. The mercenaries were doing their best to keep them in some kind of formation, but weren’t having much success. Lack of skill and discipline, as well as inferior numbers, was starting to tell, as the people of Shael were gradually being driven back.

  Whenever the Forsaken got a foothold on the wall people raced to fill it, led by Tammy, Zannah or one of the mercenaries. Their skill and courage saved many lives but they were not without their limits. He didn’t know how long they had been fighting but everyone was starting to show signs of fatigue except for Zannah. She was as fast and ruthless as when the Forsaken had first appeared, which he guessed meant she was borrowing years from her future. The Morrin could not expect to fight a war by herself and win.

  Every time Balfruss had tried using his magic a nauseous feeling swept through him, followed by a cold sweat and a desperate urge to leave the city. Wielding any power from the Source was infinitely more difficult than before and holding on to it for long had proven agonising. Lighting the barrels earlier should have been easy, but it had almost rendered him unconscious.

  All magic, both the subtle and the overt that had earned him the titles of Battlemage and Sorcerer, was beyond his reach. For now he was just another warrior. Someone other than him would have to be the deciding factor in this battle.

  Whatever the catalyst might be, it had to happen soon or else they would be overrun and have to fall back to the main building. Then it would be a slow retreat until they were cornered in the deep caves. At that point it would be over very quickly.

  Balfruss prayed to Elwei for a miracle but his wish was not answered. At least not in a way he would ever have wanted.

  Zannah knew they were losing. She watched in dismay as people she’d fought to protect for months started dying around her. The Forsaken were too strong, too fast and more determined in their purpose than they were. This time the invaders were not looking to capture anyone and were intent only on murder. No blunt weapons were used. No prisoners taken and no mercy was shown.

  Men and women who fled in despair were cut down, stabbed in the back and beheaded on the spot. This was not the end of Shael and its people, but the Forsaken clearly intended it to be the end of Voechenka, once and for all. It was the completion of the task her people and the Vorga had begun during the war.

  Gritting her teeth Zannah forced herself to move faster and then faster still. Wielding a short sword in either hand she cut a swathe through the Forsaken, splitting skulls, severing limbs and kicking them off the wall.

  When one tried to attack she stepped aside, ripped open its abdomen, spun around and stabbed it in the back through the heart. Another came at her with an axe, which she blocked with one of her swords while taking off the woman’s arm at the shoulder with the other. As the scream started, Zannah cut her throat and moved on. She was constantly moving forward, forcing each opponent to stand and fight someone who was not afraid. Someone who was just as strong and ruthless as they were.

  They tried to match her speed and failed. As fast as they could be, as hard as they could force their host bodies to move, they were still partially human and she was not. When they tried to match her skill they failed, as she had been stripped of everything except this. She was a warrior. She had nothing else. No family, no people, no country.

  She hoped that her assault on the creatures might inspire the people of Shael to stand and fight. The odds were against them but it was not over while they were still alive.

  A whisper of sound behind Zannah made her spin about with her swords ready to strike. But instead of one of the Forsaken, she came face to face with Alyssa, who just smiled at her.

  Taking a deep breath Zannah lowered her weapons and relaxed, until she saw the sword sticking out of Alyssa’s stomach. Time seemed to stop. The world became just the two of them and everything else faded into insignificance.

  Zannah recalled the first time they met.

  Mercifully it had been shortly after the war, when she’d saved a group of locals from one of her own people. The rogue Morrin soldier had killed two local people for their food and was determined to kill the others. The only thing stopping him had been Alyssa, unarmed and unafraid, facing him down with nothing more than her will and her faith for protection. Her fearlessness made him pause, as he was baffled by her willingness to sacrifice her life to protect the others. Two seconds later Zannah ran him through from behind and their friendship had begun.

  Now it was over, and a terrible pain swelled inside Zannah. It filled her whole being until she felt as if she were dying and not her only friend in the world.

  A Forsaken reared up from behind Alyssa and with a savage twist ripped his blade clear of her body. With a howl of fury Zannah took off his head with both swords but she knew it was already too late.

  Alyssa dropped to her knees and slid off the wall into the courtyard where several people caught her before she hit the ground. Zannah raced down the stairs, shoving bodies aside until she knelt beside her friend. Someone went to fetch one of the priests, but Zannah knew they couldn’t help. Blood bubbled from Alyssa’s mouth and her face was racked with agony, turning her beautiful features into a mask of pain.

  Reaching out with one hand Alyssa pulled Zannah close until her ear was almost pressed to her lips.

  “Promise me something,” she whispered.

  “Anything,” said Zannah.

  “Live. Live for me.”

  A priest shoved Zannah aside but she barely noticed. Her eyes were locked on Alyssa, who stared back while the priest tried to staunch the bleeding. Zannah was still gazing into Alyssa’s eyes when she died a few moments later.

  Zannah was wrong. The city had forged her into a weapon, but it had also given her something to lose. Something she cherished more than her own life, and the Forsaken had taken it from her.

  Many of those on the wall were looking down at Alyssa’s body. She had died for Zannah and would have done the same for any of them.

  A terrible hunger began to swell in her chest until her whole body was quivering with rage. Snarling like an angry dog she ran back up the stairs and attacked the Forsaken with reckless abandon. She didn’t care if they hurt her. Her own life didn’t matter any more. She had nothing left to lose.

  When a sword flashed towards her face she smiled, welcoming the pain, but the blade was deflected by another. Turning around, Zannah saw Monella beside her, struggling to keep the sword at bay.

  “Don’t just stand there, help me!” she hissed. Zannah stabbed the creature before throwing him off the wall into the street.

  Below her the courtyard was emptying, every person able to wield a weapon flooding onto the wall. No one wanted to run any more. What they lacked in skill the people of Voechenka made up for in heart. Fighting in pairs and groups they pushed the enemy back, one step at a time, and whenever one of them fell two more rushed forward to take their place.

  The people of Voechenka had been transformed. Not by starvation or what they had endured, but by the sacrifice of one woman who had given her life to save them. Not for fame or riches, not because she hoped to gain anything from it, but simply because it was the right thing to do.

  Monella, the former priest, cursed the enemy with her vicious tongue as she fought, cutting down the creatures with an axe as though she were chopping wood. Beside her, the mercenary Graff protected her back, throwing himself
into the fight. Rheena, the girl Tammy had rescued from Fennetaris, screamed as she stabbed one of the creatures in the chest, unleashing her rage.

  Pella Rae, the first refugee to bend her knee and swear a blood oath to serve Alyssa, fought back to back with another woman. It was Alyssa who had taken her and so many other people in. She had offered them shelter and a safe place away from the shadow that crept across the city. Now Pella and the others fought to honour all that they had been given. They fought to survive and keep alive the spark of hope that Alyssa had given them.

  If this was the end of Voechenka then its people were determined it would be a battle that was not forgotten by history. They intended to fight until the last of them drew their final breath.

  The Forsaken could not stand against such an implacable tide of humanity. They screamed and shrieked while their adversaries faced them with an icy calm. Even when the first creature turned and ran, the people of Voechenka did not cheer. They kept on fighting until there was no one left to kill.

  And when the sun came up the Forsaken were gone and the people of Voechenka were free.

  CHAPTER 44

  Tammy stared down at the long lines of bodies laid out in the courtyard. All of them had been covered with blankets to conceal their wounds. But the brightly coloured wool could not hide the cost of their victory. Almost half of those who had fought on the wall were dead, with many more severely wounded.

  Among the dead were several mercenaries, including Graff, who had died protecting two injured locals. Graff had killed the Forsaken, and three more, before he was run through. Even then he fought as if berserk until finally his strength ran out. In his final act, he’d hugged one of the Forsaken to his chest and thrown them both from the wall. Like everyone else, he had witnessed Alyssa’s bravery and had done his best to make her proud.

  At first when Tammy saw what remained of his body she’d thought it was Kovac. When he appeared a few minutes later from inside she was torn between the urge to kill or kiss him. She settled on the latter, much to his surprise.