by Aaron Hodges
No, she would have to disappear.
Thankfully, the bounty on Eric’s head would go a long way towards accomplishing that task.
Fifteen
Eric hesitated before the gates of Chole, shrinking back from the great stone walls. The giant blocks of granite stood stark and forbidding, a grim reminder of the fate waiting for him within. Behind him, Laurel gave him a shove, propelling him through the open gates. Enala walked beside him, head held high as she returned to the city of her birth.
Inhaling, Eric struggled for calm and forced himself to continue. Tears leapt unbidden as memories of Inken rose in his mind. It was here they had met, here where he’d first discovered his love for the feisty bounty hunter. Their first kiss had not been far from this very gate. Now five hundred miles separated them and for all he knew, Inken was already dead.
He rubbed his eyes to wipe away the hot tears, determined to hide his weakness from Laurel. Sniffing back his sorrow, he forced down the memories. They had other things to worry about now.
Even so, Eric could not help but pause again as they emerged from the shadow of the gate, overwhelmed by the change a few weeks had brought to Chole. This was a different city from the one they’d left behind. Everywhere he looked shoots of green now sprang from the earth, where before there had been only dust. Grass grew between the street tiles and vines dangled from drainage pipes, swaying in the breeze. A drizzle of rain swept through the streets, sending people scrambling for shelter.
Eric blinked, seeing then the other change to the city. Before Chole had been empty – the Dying City people called it – and all but the hardiest of men stayed clear. The city was left to the desperate and the criminal.
Now, everywhere Eric looked people moved through the streets, hurrying about their business. Even here by the gates, in what had been the poorest districts, civilisation had returned. It seemed news of the rain’s return had spread fast, and many a brave soul had decided to gamble on the city’s resurrection.
“So it’s true,” Eric turned at Laurel’s words. “I could hardly believe the stories, but the rain has returned.”
“It has,” Enala’s voice cracked with emotion and Eric saw the tears in her eyes. “It has changed so much, in such a little time. I only wish my parents had lived to see it. Thank you, Eric,” she smiled at him.
Eric nodded and flashed a smile back.
“This was you?” Laurel asked, raising an eyebrow.
“A first step in a long journey,” Eric shrugged.
Laurel shook her head and Eric thought he glimpsed a flash of compassion in her eyes. Then she turned away. “Come, we need to move. With all these people you might be recognised. I wouldn’t want someone else trying to claim your bounty.”
Eric sighed, glancing at Enala. They were running out of time, but an opportunity to flee had yet to come. He reached within, but his magic remained tantalisingly out of reach. They were powerless against Laurel.
Laurel led them through the bustling streets, her eagerness to leave behind the crowds betrayed by the pace she set. Eric searched for familiar landmarks as they moved, but the maze of Chole’s streets seemed to have only grown worse with the newcomers. At least he could see from Enala’s smile she at least knew where they were.
Laurel, however, was struggling. Baronians were not welcome in most cities, even one with a reputation like Chole’s. But Laurel must have been here at least a few times, as she finally led them into the more prosperous streets around the central square. The crowds grew larger and the streets bristled with street venders plying their food and wares.
“Don’t suppose you could spare me a last meal?” Eric asked, nodding towards a stand with chicken on the grill. His stomach rumbled; they had not eaten in days.
“No!” Eric looked up in surprise at the anger in her voice. He had missed the growing frustration in Laurel’s movements. “There’s no time. We need to get off the streets.”
Eric frowned as Laurel gave him a hard shove. What was she so nervous about? Surely she did not really think someone would recognise him. Unless he used his magic, there was nothing to mark him as the so called ‘demon boy’ of Oaksville.
No, it had to be something else.
“What are you running from, Laurel?” Enala asked from beside him.
“Quiet!” Laurel snapped. “I told you, I won’t have my prize stolen from me.”
“You don’t really expect us to believe that, do you?” Enala persisted.
Laurel spun, her hand drifting towards her dagger. “I warned you –”
“Laurel!” a shout from nearby cut her off.
Their captor spun at the sound of her name, hand switching from the dagger to the hilt of her short sword.
Eric looked across and saw three men muscling their way through the crowd towards them. Straggled beards covered their faces and scars crisscrossed their arms. Each sported a black arm band and held greatswords in their meaty hands. The thugs wore plain clothes, but Eric guessed their usual attire was the black armour of the Baronians.
“The Hawk would like a word with you, Laurel. About Thaster’s untimely demise,” the first of the men growled.
The blood fled from Laurel’s face. Whoever Hawk was, he clearly terrified her. Drawing her sword, she held it tight in front of her, hands trembling. She glanced at Eric and Enala, regret flashing in her eyes.
Then she vanished.
The men paused, and then started to laugh. “Well, well, look lads, I told you so. See the coward run?” they looked around the street, searching for the Magicker. “Or perhaps she just likes to fight dirty,” they laughed again.
Goosebumps rose on Eric’s neck as a dark light seeped from the man who led. “Come on then, Laurel. Come and get us. We shall see which magic is greater – the dark or the light.”
The men edged into a circle, blades out, the darkness encircling them. Their eyes roamed the street, searching for Laurel. Eric had no idea what dark magic they were employing, but he guessed its touch would leave a mark.
Either way, the men had not yet taken notice of Eric or Enala. They backed away together, trying to put the crowd between themselves and the Baronian thugs. They moved slowly, doing their best not to draw attention to themselves. When they reached a nearby alley, they turned and sprinted between the buildings.
Enala took the lead, Eric struggling to keep up as she raced through the twisting nooks and alleyways of Chole. Her knowledge of the city was priceless now – within minutes they had left the Baronians far behind. Eric glanced back as they ran, searching for sign of pursuit, but all looked quiet.
They raced on all the same, eager to extend their lead and lose any invisible followers.
Half an hour later they drew to a stop in the shadow of a library.
“Who were those men?” Enala asked.
“Baronians, I’m guessing. Laurel must have made a few enemies when she didn’t protect the Baronian camp from your magic. We’re just lucky they didn’t recognise us,” he paused and turned his mind inwards. His magic surged at his touch, free at last. “Speaking of which, I think we’ve lost her as well. My magic is back,” he felt a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving Alastair’s blade in Laurel’s hands, but he could do little about it now.
Enala grinned. “Well that’s something, because we’re now unarmed and alone in a city of thieves. A few weeks can’t have changed it that much. Where are we going?”
Eric quickly described what he remembered from Antonia’s vision: the steps down from the ramparts, the narrow path which separated the buildings from the city walls, and the vines that had covered the granite blocks, hiding a dark secret beneath them.
At the end Enala nodded. “I think I know the place, but last I heard the vines had withered and died. Although now that I think of it, they’ve been there as long as anyone can remember.”
“Hopefully there is still a way past them,” Eric whispered.
They started off again, moving at a slower place this
time, neither eager to reach the gateway and the cursed world waiting for them. Eric remembered all too well the deadly land beyond, and the creature lurking there. They still had no idea how to defeat it; he just hoped his magic would be enough.
It took half an hour to cross the city, but they managed it without incident. The streets grew quiet as they approached their destination, the citizens retreating into their homes to wait out the night. Whatever changes had enveloped Chole, the growing fear on the faces of passers-by suggested the night still belonged to the unsavoury.
They stood together beneath the wall, staring up at the ancient granite blocks. Vines hung from the battlements high above, but Enala had been right – they were long dead. Whatever magic had sustained them through the centuries, it had not been enough to save them from the drought. Yet somehow, their death did not seem to have been permanent. Fresh green shoots now sprang from the dry husks of the old vines, and white flowers sprinkled the wall. Their aroma drifted down, their rich honey-like scent lingering in their noses.
“What do we do?” Enala asked.
Eric leaned back, trying to see how high the vines went. “I’m not sure. Alastair said only those with Earth magic could control the vines. But maybe there is another way through.”
Enala gave a wry grin. “Like burning them?”
Chuckling, Eric shrugged. “Maybe, but we’ll use my magic for now. There is a lot you need to learn before you try to use your magic consciously. But we’ll save that lesson for another day.”
Lightning crackled as Eric drew a bolt of energy from the sky. It struck the vines with a crash and a roar. Blue fire raced along the half-dead tendrils, burning up browned leaves and new growth alike.
As the flames died out, the remains of the vines fell to ash around them. Beneath, the empty abyss of the portal beckoned. They bathed in its flickering glow, its light swirling away into infinity. The dark energy danced in their eyes, drawing them into its embrace. The power tugged at Eric’s soul, but remembering Antonia’s warning, he resisted.
Beside him, Enala leaned towards the portal. He grasped her hand and pulled her back.
“Careful, Enala. Archon cursed this place a long time ago. His taint is everywhere, do not let it tempt you, or you risk being corrupted.”
She gave a wan smile, her face pale. “Okay,” she looked up. “At least that was easy.”
Eric closed his eyes, summoning his courage. “No, this is just the beginning. Beyond, the real battle begins. Brace yourself.”
They leapt together into the abyss.
*************
Laurel watched as the two stepped into the portal, heart thudding hard in her chest. It had been no easy task following them through the city – in fact, she had lost them a few blocks back. Only the surge of Eric’s magic allowed her to find them again.
Now she wished she hadn’t. She could not believe what she was witnessing. The power emanating from the abyss reached her even in the shadows of the nearby alley. Its dark taint spoke to her, called to her. But she had overheard Eric’s words, and struggled to close herself to its power.
So they told the truth, Laurel could deny it no longer.
The truth of their tale stood before her – an ancient magic leading to the Gods only knew where. It changed everything. Perhaps she could find more than just gold on the other side of that portal. Whoever Eric and Enala answered too, they were obviously powerful. Powerful enough to resist the forces commanded by Hawk.
She needed protection now more than ever.
Unsure quite what she planned, but knowing she could not stay in Chole, Laurel slipped from the shadows. Moving towards the portal, Laurel saw the vines stirring, fresh shoots regenerating from the ashes. They crawled across the stony surface, covering the portal. In seconds it would shut, closing her off from the two young Magickers.
Taking a breath, Laurel dove for the portal
And the world began to spin.
*************
Caelin strode down the streets of Ardath, ignorant to the bustle of the city around him. Frustration bubbled in his chest. It had been two days since they had seen the king, two days spent petitioning to see the council again. But their every effort had been met by blank stares and stony silence. It was becoming increasingly clear the king and council did not wish to see them.
Swinging around a corner, Caelin picked up speed. Looking back, he caught a glimpse of the man following him. Today they had separated after leaving the inn, knowing their ghost could only tail one of them. There were people Caelin wanted to speak too, and he did not want anyone interrupting their conversation.
Outside the city the army continued to muster, but they showed no sign of being ready to march. The king had not even sent an advanced party out to reinforce Fort Fall. The standing garrison at the fortress was meant to keep out the banished and odd raiding party – it would stand no chance against an army. If something did not change soon, the Plorseans would arrive too late to make a difference.
Likewise, the situation in Ardath grew worse with each passing day. Fear spread through the city, infecting its citizens with a terror not seen since Archon’s war. All knew of the attack on Sitton, and many said in whispers it could only be a matter of time before the same fate befell Ardath. Even the city guards were affected, and whispers of the king’s isolation only made matters worse.
Caelin still could not bring himself to believe his king had been swayed to Archon’s cause. He had always been a good man, loyal to the Gods and his people. But there was no doubting it – something had changed in the man. Caelin’s homecoming still rankled him. He had expected disappointment from the king, not open scorn.
He broke into a run as he rounded the next corner, sprinting for the alleyway halfway down the street. Water splashed beneath his feet, the remains of last night’s rain. The wind whistled in his ears as he picked up speed, his boots thumping the bricked street. Leaning low, he ducked into the alleyway and out of sight.
Once hidden, he did not stop to check if the tracker had seen him. He picked his way through the alley, jumping over discarded garbage and a dead rat, before swinging round the next corner. Quickly, he made his way through the network of alleyways connecting the streets of Ardath, heading for a nondescript building where the others waited.
The owner of the building did not know he was coming.
When he emerged back into the open streets, Gabriel and Inken stood across the street waiting for him. The street was quiet, cast in the shadow of the city walls looming behind the houses.
Inken smiled when she saw Caelin and moved across to join him. “Looks like you drew the short straw.”
“I thought he might choose me. I’m the one they know. A good thing, since I know these streets better than either of you.”
“That’s a bold statement,” Inken laughed. “You’d be surprised where my hunts have taken me.”
“If you too are done competing with one another, shouldn’t we get this over with – before someone figures us out?” Gabriel suggested.
Caelin nodded and they moved towards one of the houses. At first glance the building looked non-descript, with plain stone walls and a tile roof. But as they approached, Caelin saw small hints of the owner’s wealth. Well-kept gardens suggested the house had full-time help, and the trimmings of the eaves were edged with marble. The door stood closed, the thick oak shining in the cool sun. An intricate mural dedicated to the earth had been carved into the wood, another sign of the occupant’s wealth.
Inside was the one councillor they knew more about than any other. Unfortunately, she was also the councillor whose loyalty they doubted more than any other.
The house belonged to Katya.
Raising his hand, Caelin banged on the door, and waited.
Silence came from within, followed by the creak of wooden floorboards and the faint shuffle of somebody moving inside. The sounds ceased when they reached the door, as the person inside placed their eye to the spyhole.
After several long seconds, there came a clack as the bolt was unlocked and the door swung open.
Katya stood in the door way, arms folded across her chest. She scowled at Caelin, eyebrow raised. She wore tight fitting clothing that hugged her supple frame and long black boots stretching up to her knees.
“Caelin, I wasn’t expecting you,” Katya growled. “How can I help you?” she stood stiff, clearly angry at the unexpected intrusion.
Swallowing his doubts, Caelin answered. “Katya, I know things went poorly with you and the king in the throne room. But I am here to ask you for another chance. Please, help us to see King Fraser, help me explain.”
“And why would I do that?” she snapped, one hand clenched on the door, prepared to slam it in their faces. “If you wish to go before the council again, you will have to book an appointment with the clerks.”
Caelin raised his hands, heart pounding in his chest. “Wait, don’t, please. Look, I know you don’t want to listen. I know you have a different plan. But at least hear us out first. Let us sit down like adults and weigh up the options. If yours is truly the better approach, then let the king see that for himself.”
Katya stepped from the house, anger flashing in her eyes. “You have no idea what the king is planning. Who are you, a mere sergeant, to advise him on the most sensitive of military matters?
Caelin stared her down. “I may be young, and only a sergeant. But I am no green kid enlisted in the army. This is my life. And I have seen the enemy, I have seen the power of just one of his servants. It is beyond anything I have ever witnessed from the Magickers at your command. Greater even than Alastair. And the demon grows stronger by the day.”
Katya paused, uncertainty flashing across her face. Then she bared her teeth, the steel returning to her eyes. “Even so, if you wish to see the king, this is not the way –”
“They have locked us out,” Caelin interrupted. “The clerks ignore our petitions and we are followed day and night. Someone does not wish us to see the king,” he paused, studying the woman before him, weighing her up. Could she be trusted, or was there more behind her anger. Taking a breath, he risked a gamble. “We believe there are traitors in the council; others like Balistor who have been turned by Archon.”