Chaosmage (Age of Darkness)

by Stephen Aryan

  Kai nodded. “Our friends are alive, plus some of the local people and a few mercenaries. Even so, I doubt Voechenka will ever be anything more than a graveyard. The source of all that terror is gone but the memories remain. In time that may change, but everyone just wants to leave. It’s too painful for them to try to rebuild.”

  “What about the land, is it still poisoned?” asked Vargus.

  “No. It’s strange, but life is already beginning to return to the area. You can smell something in the air, a certain freshness, and birds and insects have been seen in the ruins.”

  “Life always finds a way,” muttered Nethun.

  “Well at least Shael now has a chance at a future,” said Vargus.

  “Yes, they’re free to murder each other as much as they want,” said Kai, raising one eyebrow. “Just like the rest of the world.”

  “If that is to be their fate then so be it,” said Nethun. There was a hint of warning in his voice. “But it’s their choice to make, one without influence from us or forces beyond the Veil.”

  “As it should be,” said Vargus.

  “I’m just less optimistic than both of you about what comes next,” admitted Kai.

  “The old Grey Council is gone, and with them the shadow that has hung over the world for the last few years. There are Seekers abroad again and the Red Tower is in ascension once more. Perhaps this is the end of the age of darkness for magic and the beginning of something new.” Vargus sounded, if not pleased, then at least satisfied with what had happened.

  “But what is coming next?” asked Kai, looking towards Vargus for guidance. Nethun raised an eyebrow but the Weaver just shrugged, unable or unwilling to share what might be coming.

  “Any change will not happen overnight,” mused Nethun. “A large ship cannot turn quickly and mortals are the same. They will mourn their dead and talk of having moved on during the day, but in the darkest hour of the night they will hold their grudges close to their hearts and plot their revenge. The scars of the war will linger for a while.”

  “I fear you’re right,” said Vargus with a grimace. “Events will likely get worse before they get better.”

  “Blood will flow,” agreed Nethun, “but it will not last forever.”

  The others brooded in silence for a while before Kai had to interrupt them. If he was to survive and thrive in the years ahead he wanted a head start.

  “And then?” asked Kai, looking at them for some clues.

  “Then we see what they will become,” said Vargus. “Many paths will open up and different crossroads appear. For now we must simply watch and wait.”

  Kai had no intention of sitting back and doing nothing. He would not leave his fate to chance. He had not felt this strong in a long time and would not let his power just ebb away and risk destruction again.

  If the last few years had taught him anything it was that he had to be exceptionally careful and move very slowly and quietly. The lantern boy had been stupid and rash. Now he was nothing more than a fading memory and was already being replaced by the newly revered Lady of Light. Someone had destroyed him utterly and Kai suspected it was someone sat at the table with him right now. Few others had the power or the nerve to do such a thing.

  But Kai said none of that. He just smiled and nodded, playing along.

  “Watch and wait. That’s very good advice,” agreed Kai. He would have to pay very close attention to both of his brothers at the table.

  CHAPTER 48

  Two days after the death of the brood mother everyone in the winery was ready to leave. It was a cold and crisp morning and every brightly coloured scarf, jumper and woolly hat was pulled on tight. Several blankets had been altered to create thick cloaks to keep people warm on the long trek out of the city. As the survivors gathered in the courtyard carrying their belongings, Tammy thought they resembled a bright bunch of flowers in an otherwise grey and white landscape. The splash of colour seemed so out of place and a welcome relief. It spoke of life in the heart of an otherwise dead city.

  Balfruss came into the courtyard and joined her on the wall. He too was wrapped up for travel in a garish blue, red and yellow hat. It sat slightly askew on his head but when she mentioned it he just grinned.

  “At least it keeps my head warm,” he said, clearly not caring how he looked. Tammy returned his smile and pulled on her equally bright green and purple hat.

  “You look much better,” she said, noting the flush of colour in his cheeks. Some of it was probably due to the cold but after a couple of days’ rest she felt equally refreshed.

  A disturbance in the courtyard drew their attention and the general hum of conversation trailed off to be replaced by an uncomfortable silence. Zannah had emerged from inside the building and now stood at the edge of the courtyard facing a sea of faces. Since returning from the labyrinth the Morrin had said very little, although Tammy knew Balfruss had spoken to her a few times. As usual the local people had very little to do with her and went about their business as if she wasn’t there. Now they couldn’t ignore her and every face was staring at her yellow eyes, her horns, her alien features. She was not one of them and never would be, no matter what she did or how many lives she saved.

  Zannah shouldered her pack, scanned the crowd and eventually her eyes drifted up to the wall where she had spent many long days and nights. As their eyes met, Tammy raised a hand in farewell and Zannah inclined her head, ever so slightly. As usual, the taciturn Morrin preferred to let her actions speak for her.

  Eyeing the people in the courtyard Zannah rolled her shoulders and took one step forward, bracing herself as if expecting she would have to fight her way through the crowd. As one the people of Voechenka stepped aside, creating a narrow channel. She looked at the faces to the left and right, trying to discern what the gesture meant. Then, fearless as ever, she strode forward through the crowd. No one cursed or spat. No one beat her or frowned. As she walked past each person they placed their right hand over their heart, just as Alyssa had done when praying to the Blessed Mother.

  Zannah was slow to notice, but when she did so Tammy saw her increase her pace, trying to distance herself from them as quickly as possible. When she reached the gate two people stood blocking the way. It was Monella and Rheena, the girl Tammy had rescued from Fenne’s camp.

  The girl had seen unspeakable acts of horror committed by a Morrin, and for a moment she stared at Zannah’s face and horns, a shiver running through her. She started to say something, but in the end just bowed her head and stepped aside.

  Zannah stared at the weathered and hard face of Monella, waiting for the old woman to blame her for what had happened to Alyssa. Instead she covered her heart with her right hand and stepped aside. This final gesture made Zannah pause on the threshold of the camp that had been her home. A moment later she was striding away down the street and those at the gate watched until she was out of sight.

  “Where do you think she will go?” asked Tammy.

  “I don’t know and I don’t think she does either,” said Balfruss. “She was a soldier and now she is not. She can go anywhere and do anything. She is free.”

  “You sound a little envious,” she said, and Balfruss grunted.

  “I am, but only a little.” Balfruss turned towards her and his expression became serious. Tammy had been waiting for this moment and dreading it. Reaching over her shoulder she retrieved Maligne, holding it for a moment before offering it back to him.

  Much to her surprise Balfruss held up both of his hands. “You should keep it. The blade is yours.”

  “Why?”

  “You earned it, but more than that I think you may need it in the future.”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Tammy.

  Balfruss’s expression softened, becoming almost sympathetic, but she didn’t know why. “Because I see a fire burning inside you. Something is driving you forward,” he said, tapping her on the chest. “It’s why you left everything behind to come here. I don’t know what caused
it, but I sense you’re not ready for a quiet life in Perizzi, being a Guardian for the rest of your life.”

  “You’re right,” said Tammy. It had been on her mind since the moment the brood mother had exhaled its final breath. The Khevassar was expecting her to return and give a full report of what had happened. After that she would be thanked and then put back to work on the streets, hunting down murderers and chasing criminals. It was important work, but after being out here it seemed so small.

  “Do you know what you will do?” he asked, and Tammy could only shake her head. “Well, you’ll have a long trip back to think about it.”

  “You’re not coming?”

  “No. My path leads to the Red Tower.”

  Given what Balfruss had told her about his years studying at the Red Tower and Polganna, she was surprised by his decision.

  “Why now?”

  Balfruss looked out at the city for a moment as he collected his thoughts. As she studied his profile Tammy noticed that the scar tissue on his face stood out as livid white marks against his rosy cheeks. He ran his fingers around the tattoo on his wrist and a strange smile touched his face.

  “Ever since the Grey Council abandoned their posts I’ve spent a lot of time worrying about the future of magic and the Red Tower. At first I thought the Council would reappear, admit they’d left on a fool’s errand and everything would go back to normal. As the years passed I realised they weren’t coming back and I watched the school begin to decline, but I did nothing. I saw magic become a shadow of what it used to be, and still I did nothing. Those who remained became Battlemages, living magical weapons created for war.” Balfruss shook his head ruefully, most likely at himself. “For years I kept wondering who was going to restore the Red Tower to its former glory. It needed to be done and I knew someone would do it. But I was always too busy, too angry or too hungry for knowledge. So I left it to other people. Those more suited to the task, I told myself.”

  “And now?” asked Tammy.

  “Now, after travelling the world for years and seeing many wonders, I realise I was being selfish and ignoring my responsibility. I was needed then and I am needed now. I can nurture and protect a thousand children at the school and if another Warlock, or another Polganna, should rise up, we will be there to oppose them.”

  “You sound confident it will happen.”

  “I’m not an Oracle, but I suspect that one day it will. But if I want to live in a world where magic and the Red Tower is strong, I must create that future, or others will take us down another road.” Balfruss turned towards Tammy and gathered her into a hug. She squeezed him tight, kissed his grizzled cheek and then stepped back.

  “Take care of yourself,” she said.

  “And you, my friend. If you ever need my help, send word to the Red Tower. I will be there.”

  Balfruss gathered his belongings, went down to the courtyard and said his final farewells before setting off for the heart of Shael and the Red Tower. Tammy couldn’t help smiling as she watched his progress through the streets by tracking his brightly coloured hat. Eventually he turned a corner and was lost from sight, but her smile remained.

  “Are you ready to go home?” asked Kovac, coming up the stairs. Once the final battle against the Forsaken was over most of the mercenaries had disappeared before old scores were settled. A few, like Kovac and his friends, had remained behind and they would travel with the local people until they reached safety.

  “I think so, but I have a feeling I won’t be staying in Perizzi for long.”

  “Not quite ready to settle down, then?”

  “Are you?” she asked.

  “No, but maybe one day,” he said, sharing a smile with her.

  Tammy went down into the courtyard and led the survivors out of the winery and out of Voechenka, towards new lives and a new future.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  The story started with me but once again getting this book to the finish line was a team effort. I have to thank Juliet Mushens, for her remarkable patience and enthusiasm. The Orbit team, for helping me bring this trilogy to a close in a way that was hopefully satisfying and rewarding for dedicated readers.

  I also need to thank Team Mushens for their friendship and support, in particular, Den, Jen, Peter and James.

  extras

  meet the author

  Photo Credit: Hannah Webster

  STEPHEN ARYAN was born in 1977 and was raised and educated in Whitley Bay, Tyne and Wear. After graduating from Loughborough University he started working in marketing, and for some reason he hasn’t stopped. A keen podcaster, lapsed gamer and budding archer, when not extolling the virtues of Babylon 5, he can be found drinking real ale and reading comics.

  He lives in the West Midlands with his partner and two cats. You can find him on Twitter at @SteveAryan or visit his website at www.stephenaryan.com.

  introducing

  If you enjoyed

  CHAOSMAGE,

  look out for

  THE SUMMON STONE

  by Ian Irvine

  The Summon Stone is the first novel in a new duology by Ian Irvine.

  The Merdrun, cruel warriors blooded by thousands of years of slaughter, are gather in the void between the worlds.

  Their summon stone is waking, corrupting good people as well as bad, and turning arcane places into magically polluted wastelands. If it is not destroyed it will create a portal and call this marauding army out of exile.

  Sulien, a nine-year-old girl endowed with untold gifts, sees the Merdrun leader in a nightmare–and he sees her.

  Karan and Llian must stop the greatest warrior in the void, to save their daughter and their world.

  1

  The Evil Man Saw Me

  No!” the little girl sobbed. “Look out! Run, run!”

  Sulien!

  Karan threw herself out of her bed, a high box of black-stained timber that occupied half the bedroom. She landed awkwardly and pain splintered through the left leg she had broken ten years ago. She clung to the side of the bed, trying not to cry out, then dragged a cloak around herself and careered through the dark to her daughter’s room at the other end of the oval keep. Fear was an iron spike through her heart. What was the matter? Had someone broken in? What were they doing to her?

  The wedge-shaped room, lit by a rectangle of moonlight coming through the narrow window, was empty apart from Sulien, who lay with her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around them, rocking from side to side.

  Her eyes were tightly closed as if she could not bear to look, and she was moaning, “No, no, no!”

  Karan touched Sulien on the shoulder and her eyes sprang open. She threw her arms around Karan’s waist, clinging desperately.

  “Mummy, the evil man saw me. He saw me!”

  Karan let out her breath. Just a nightmare, though a bad one. She put her hands around Sulien’s head and, with a psychic wrench that she would pay for later, lifted the nightmare from her. But Sulien was safe; that was all that mattered. Karan’s knees shook and she slumped on the bed. It’s all right!

  Sulien gave a little sigh and wriggled around under the covers. “Thanks, Mummy.”

  Karan kissed her on the forehead. “Go to sleep now.”

  “I can’t; my mind’s gone all squirmy. Can you tell me a story?”

  “Why don’t you tell me one, for a change?”

  “All right.” Sulien thought for a moment. “I’ll tell you my favourite–the story of Karan and Llian, and the Mirror of Aachan.”

  “I hope it has a happy ending,” said Karan, going along with her.

  “You’ll have to wait and see,” Sulien said mock-sternly. “This is how it begins.” She began reciting: “Once there were three worlds, Aachan, Tallallame and Santhenar, each with its own human species: Aachim, Faellem and us, old humans. Then, fleeing out of the terrible void between the worlds came a fourth people, the Charon, led by the mightiest hero in all the Histories, Rulke. The Charon were just a handful, desperate and on the
edge of extinction, but Rulke saw a weakness in the Aachim and took Aachan from them… and forever changed the balance between the Three Worlds.”

  “I’m sure I’ve heard that before, somewhere,” said Karan, smiling at the memories it raised.

  “Of course you have, silly. All the Great Tales begin that way.” Sulien continued: “In ancient times the genius goldsmith Shuthdar, a very wicked man, was paid by Rulke to make a gate-opening device in the form of a golden flute. Then Shuthdar stole the flute, opened a gate and fled to Santhenar… but he broke open the Way Between the Worlds, exposing the Three Worlds to the deadly void.

  “This shocked Aachan, a strange world of sulphur-coloured snow, oily bogs and black, luminous flowers, to its core. Rulke raced after Shuthdar, taking with him a host of Aachim servants, including the mighty Tensor.

  “The rain-drenched world of Tallallame was also threatened by the opening. The Faellem, a small forest-dwelling people who were masters of illusion, sent a troop led by Faelamor to close the way again. But they failed too.

  “They all hunted Shuthdar across Santhenar as he fled through gate after gate, but finally he was driven into a trap. Unable to give the flute up, he destroyed it–and brought down the Forbidding that sealed the Three Worlds off from each other… and trapped all his hunters here on Santhenar.”

  “Until ten years ago,” said Karan.

  “When you and Daddy helped to reopen the Way Between the Worlds…” Sulien frowned. “How come Rulke was still alive after all that time?”

  “The Aachim, Faellem and Charon aren’t like us. They can live for thousands of years.”

  Sulien gave another little shiver, her eyelids fluttered, and she slept.

  Karan pulled the covers up and stroked her daughter’s hair, which was as wild as her own, though a lighter shade of red. On the table next to the bed, moonbeams touched a vase of yellow and brown bumblebee blossoms and the half-done wall hanging of Sulien’s floppy-eared puppy, Piffle.

  Karan stroked Sulien’s cheek and shed a tear, and sat there for a minute or two, gazing at her nine-year-old daughter, her small miracle, the only child she could ever have and the most perfect thing in her life.