The coarse stones of the battlements pressed into Balfruss’s cheek. He didn’t remember falling, but now found himself looking up as a screaming comet flew off the battlements into the street below. The air inside his shield was almost gone and he was losing consciousness. Flames licked at his clothes, singeing his hair and beard and yet something inside him refused to yield.
Somewhere nearby a woman started screaming, then Balfruss saw a second blazing figure fall from the battlements. His will began to crumble, darkness pressing in on all sides. In the street below a group of men were throwing their cloaks on top of the burning figures, trying to smother the flames. It didn’t matter. Everyone would die very soon. With the death of the Battlemages the city would be left without any defence against the Warlock. Taikon would rule and the Warlock would tear the world apart with his experiments.
As Balfruss started to lose his grip on the last shreds of consciousness, his hold on the Source wavered and then evaporated. His shield disappeared and, much to his surprise, cool air washed over him. Taking deep wheezing breaths he gulped it down and the darkness slowly began to recede. Although the stones against his face were cool, he could still hear the crackle of flames. When the feeling came back into his limbs Balfruss pushed himself upright, leaning heavily on the wall.
Beyond the city wall lay two smoking piles of charred bones. Beside them were two human torches, burning with yellow and blue flames, but neither person made a sound as they burned to death. Without reaching for the Source Balfruss could feel a river of power flowing into the dying remains of the Splinters. All of their attention and the unnatural fire was focused on one point on the battlements.
A wall of white flames, the height of a man, standing atop the battlements. Staring at the fire felt the same as looking directly at the sun. Balfruss had to avert his eyes or risk going blind. Just before turning away Balfruss thought he saw a figure moving in the fire. The light sputtered and the flames died to reveal Finn.
He emerged from the fire unmarked and naked as if it had given birth to him. Finn glowed with so much power from the Source his skin shone like burnished steel. He strode along the battlements and came to a stop, staring at a particular point somewhere in the distance. The amount of power he wielded was so great, it made Balfruss’s back teeth ache and his skin prickle.
“You would burn me, with fire?” roared Finn in a huge voice. His words rolled out across the plains, echoing over and over.
Finn put one foot on the battlements and stepped off the city wall. Balfruss made a desperate attempt to grab him but was too slow. With a cry of desperation Balfruss pulled himself upright and peered over the wall, expecting to see the shattered remains of the smith’s body. Instead a naked, glowing figure streaked towards the ground, wrapped in a shell of blue fire like a blazing comet. Finn struck the ground with enough force to shake the walls, but seemed unharmed from the fall as he stomped towards the burning Splinters. With a casual wave of his hand and a twisting motion, the nearest Splinter exploded, scattering body parts in all directions. Balfruss could feel the Warlock’s grip on the Source lessen as another of his puppets was destroyed. Only one remained, and with a snapping motion Finn separated the Splinter’s head from its body. The tiny spark of life animating the body was extinguished and the last Splinter was finally allowed to die.
“Face me!” shouted Finn. Balfruss felt the ground shift beneath his feet again and looking closer at Finn he saw the reason. The smith was drawing even more heavily on the Source. The blue and white flames dancing over his body were now spreading, scorching the land around him in a growing circle. The grass burned to ash in an instant, the mud started to melt and then bubble, creating a sludgy quagmire. A black cloud of burning mud started to build up as Finn walked towards the enemy ranks.
“Show yourself, coward!” he screamed at the western army, but the Warlock did not come forward. Snarling and gnashing his teeth Finn kept walking forward until he was within range of their archers. Roaring like a wounded lion he lashed out, sending a wide bar of fire into a section of the army. The fire burned hotter than any flame and men were instantly incinerated. Flesh and metal were turned into greasy smears in the blink of an eye.
“Face me!” shouted Finn, before hitting another section of the army with fire, carving another chunk out of their ranks. More than a dozen men died, and with every passing moment that the Warlock failed to appear, Finn killed dozens more. The power coursing through him was immense, the breadth of his attacks was getting wider, melting more and more warriors.
Archers attempted to end his rampage as a shower of arrows descended towards him. Finn gave the deadly rain a casual glance, then flicked one hand towards it. All of the arrows were burned to ash in an instant. The western army started to withdraw, first in formation and then running for their lives as Finn continued to turn men into slag. Even though Finn was moving away from the city, the build-up of energy in the air was so strong that Balfruss felt the hairs stand up on his arms. There was also a change in the air, a tang and sour smell, and he felt warm air on his skin.
“No, no, no,” shouted Balfruss as he realised what was happening. With his eyes on the flaming figure of Finn, he tried to reach for the Source. Something red and painful lanced along his veins and he fell to his knees, gasping for air and vomiting on the stones. Once his stomach was empty Balfruss tried again, but every time the result was the same and he experienced a violent physical response.
The river of power flowing into Finn was growing, and any attempt to reach for the same energy felt like sticking his hand into a furnace. The Source was an endless pool of power. Every teacher had always told Balfruss this, but now he wasn’t sure.
Finn wasn’t tapping into the Source; he was channelling it.
The flames around Finn’s feet spread even further, scorching the earth black and then blistering it until it cracked and melted. The clouds started to thicken, then swell until they turned grey and black. Thunder rumbled and a light rain began to fall, but no echo of lightning followed.
The western army was in full retreat, but they couldn’t run fast enough to escape Finn’s reach. There were so many men they kept falling over each other in their desperation. Men were trodden underfoot and left in the mud by their comrades. Finn swept both arms wide and a wall of fire rolled towards the soldiers. The fire quickly gathered momentum, easily outpacing them. Their screams and cries for mercy went unnoticed as entire units were consumed by the flames. Balfruss heard a brief fizzle, a snap and a hiss, as fat was burned up in the fire and a hundred men were obliterated. Flinging his arms left and then right Finn effortlessly killed scores of men before they had a chance to scream.
The sky blackened and the rain became heavier but it felt warm. Thunder continued to crack and rumble again and again, but still there was no flash, even a spark of lightning. When the rain landed on his face Balfruss tasted something bitter and greasy like ashes.
Something flickered at the corner of his eye and turning his head towards the source, Balfruss saw the flames rising from Finn’s body were reaching higher and higher. The fire turned white and the clouds started to churn above his head.
Finally, a red-cloaked figure emerged from the shattered ranks of the western army. The concentric rings of fire spreading out from Finn immediately disappeared, leaving a blackened swathe of land in his wake.
Despite the distance between them, Balfruss heard the cry of pain and anger Finn directed at the Warlock. It was the sum of all his loss and rage at having his life irreparably changed by a gift he didn’t want. He should have been living a quiet life, working in a forge during the day, going home to his loving wife at night. Instead he was standing naked on a bloody battlefield, bathed in living fire. Despite everything Balfruss had told Finn about it being a gift, he knew the smith still resented his power and would’ve done anything to be rid of it.
Behind Finn’s scream came a river of power, forged into a single hammer blow that slammed into the Warlock
. The force against his shield was so strong the Warlock was thrown backwards through the air. The flames rising from Finn’s body swelled until they touched the clouds above, setting them on fire. The sky turned purple, then black as thunder snapped and thumped like an erratic heartbeat. The Warlock was just picking himself up when another strike hit him. This time the force drove him down into the earth and he disappeared from view. The land cracked for fifty paces on either side of the impact point, opening a giant fissure.
A terrible scream ripped across the plain as Finn stumbled to one knee, still wreathed in fire. Gritting his teeth against the destructive energy rampaging through his body, Finn forced himself to stand. He wobbled and it looked as if he would fall, but with grim determination he slowly walked towards the Warlock. But every step became increasingly difficult. Channelling an enormous amount of power from the Source was always hard, but Finn had pushed himself beyond the limits of any man. Balfruss had no idea how he’d managed it for this long, but Finn was losing control.
The muddy figure of the Warlock clambered out of the crater and dragged himself onto the ground. He lay there breathing heavily and seemed utterly exhausted. The sight of him spurred Finn on as he took another step forward, even as his flesh began to blacken and then crisp. Tiny pieces blew away like leaves on the wind and immediately were drawn upwards towards the clouds bunched together overheard.
The pressure in the air increased and Balfruss could hear a faint whine amid the drumbeat of thunder. Finn refused to surrender, taking another step forward although the pain must have been agonising. The Warlock was prone and defenceless with Finn only a few steps away. Even as he dropped to his knees Finn reached out with one hand towards the Warlock, but it wasn’t enough. All of Finn’s flesh turned black then began to blister and peel. Cracks appeared across his whole body and a blinding light shone out from inside. The smith turned his face towards the heavens, there was one final rumble of thunder, and then the lightning finally came. Finn’s scream was lost as bolt after bolt of raw elemental power struck the ground where he was standing. The sky split with purple and red forks of energy and it kept falling over and over again, dancing on the area where Finn had fallen. The Warlock was thrown clear of the blast and Balfruss lost sight of him. The lightning storm continued, a wholly unnatural barrage on the same area, as the built-up energy was finally released.
Slowly, the lightning began to ease and the rain slackened with it. The thick knotted clouds started to unravel and a small patch of blue appeared amid the black. After a few minutes the thunder and lightning had stopped, the clouds drifted apart and the rain tailed off completely.
Balfruss stared at the spot where he’d last seen Finn, hoping to see something of the man. The lightning had ripped up the ground, blasted holes and scorched the earth, but nothing remained of the smith. The Source had consumed him.
CHAPTER 41
That evening when Talandra met with her Generals the mood in the room was very sombre. She knew the events of the day would be spoken about for many years. The bravery of their warriors and the heroics with steel and muscle were already being forgotten in the wake of what had happened with the Battlemages. No one spoke about the lives saved or the tragedies averted on the walls by their warriors through skill or sheer luck. All talk had become of magic.
Two of the Battlemages had fallen from the battlements completely aflame. Even now Talandra couldn’t dislodge the images from her mind. They’d reminded her of straw effigies burned at the end of autumn to give thanks for a bountiful harvest. But these had been flesh and blood, not corn and wheat.
Beyond those tragedies all talk was about the man everyone now called Titan, the Battlemage once known as Finn Smith. She remembered seeing him for the first time in the throne room a few weeks ago. Her first impression had been of a large and clumsy man out of his depth, unfamiliar with court politics, being thrown into a position of power. Now, when people spoke about him it was with a mix of awe and fear.
Outside the city walls the land in all directions was burned and broken for miles. Even those who had not peered over the walls had witnessed the unusual storm and heard the endless thunder. It had seemed to roll for hours before the lightning finally came, with tragic consequences. Some claimed the white light that fell from the sky was not lightning, but the fire of creation.
Ultimately there would be a lot of questions about what it meant to the war, to the western alliance, and what her warriors should do tomorrow morning. She knew part of her responsibilities to the people was to come up with answers. Over the years her father had faced many challenges and been forced to make many difficult decisions. Even so she was confident he’d never been required to have a conversation such as the one she now faced. Once again she turned to the wise counsel of her Generals to help her decide what they should be doing next.
Vannok Lore had been the last to arrive and before they began discussing their plans, she turned towards him.
“How is he?”
Vannok looked exhausted, and she knew not all of it was from the physical hardships of the day. “He’s barely spoken since they fell.”
Talandra hated to ask, but needed to know because thousands of lives depended on it. At present, Balfruss was the only Battlemage who could still fight. Whether it was a blessing or a curse she didn’t know, but, unlike Thule, Eloise had survived her fall from the battlements. “Is she still alive?”
“Barely,” said Vannok with a long sigh. “The surgeons don’t know why or how. Her burns are severe and cover most of her body. They don’t expect her to last through the night and Balfruss won’t leave her side.”
Talandra wished she had something wise to say, some words of condolence to offer, but she didn’t know where to begin. Grief for her father still filled the forefront of her mind and thoughts of him still caused her physical pain. Any words she might conjure up in an attempt to offer some comfort would be a hollow lie. She had no idea how to come to terms with her loss and would not presume to tell others. Grief was not a standard measure a person could squeeze into a cup. In a way the war was a good distraction as it gave her no time to sit and think about what she had lost. There would be time for mourning later. Right now she needed to focus on protecting the city and the people depending upon her.
Clearing her throat she turned to Graegor, but he didn’t seem to hear her. Physically the one-eyed General sat in the room, but his mind remained elsewhere. He’d barely spoken a word since sitting down and had not even poured himself a drink.
“How are our defences?”
It was Vannok who spoke up, filling in for Graegor’s silence. “The city is still secure and the walls will hold. There are fractures in places, but they’re not severe. They will need close attention in the future.”
“And the men? Are they able to fight?”
Vannok shrugged. “Before the fight between the Battlemages there were casualties, but nothing we weren’t anticipating.”
Talandra raised an eyebrow at Vannok’s reluctance. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Many of the men are asking if the war is over. They want to know if they still need to fight.”
“The western army is still out there,” said Talandra. “All they need to do is look over the walls.”
“The news about Shael has reached the front lines,” said Thias. She hadn’t anticipated that. Officially trade channels with the west were still closed, but one or two of the messages she’d received via her network had not been by raven or bat.
“There are stories about the people of Shael butchering the Vorga who held them prisoner,” said Hyram, somehow making it sound like a question without trying.
“I’ve seen a couple of reports to that effect,” said Talandra, trying not to let her thoughts linger on Shani. She was performing her job admirably as head of intelligence and Talandra didn’t have any cause to complain. However, Shani had been distant while delivering her reports, talking as if they were strangers. Despite being the o
ne who had ended their relationship, Talandra still had feelings for her, but it appeared as if Shani didn’t any more. Either that, or she was better at hiding them.
Talandra shook herself, bringing her mind back to the problem at hand. “The western alliance is crumbling. Shael is fighting for its freedom and my agents in Yerskania have been orchestrating an uprising. Any day now I expect to hear from Gunder about the liberation of the capital, Perizzi. Once the Queen is safe, the rest of the nation will follow. Zecorria is teetering on the brink of civil war and the Morrin are turning their gaze inwards. All of this is good news, but none of it changes the facts. Tomorrow the sun will rise and the western army will still be sat outside our walls. Even if an order were sent to disband the army, it would not happen immediately. We need to make preparations for tomorrow as normal.”
“We will see to it,” said Vannok, exchanging a look with Hyram.
“We’ve received a few requests for sanctuary through unofficial channels,” said Thias. “I’ve also witnessed units of men deserting the western army.”
“Now is the time to show mercy,” said Talandra. “We can’t open the gates, but pass word to those who have asked. Anyone who doesn’t fight tomorrow will not be attacked. Make sure the order is clearly understood by every man in our army. I won’t have anyone who seeks sanctuary being cut down. That kind of behaviour will not be tolerated and the punishment will be severe. We will need as many friends and allies in the west as we can get, not blood debts and vengeance. The fewer bodies we have to fight, the quicker this will be over.”
“Is it over?” asked Hyram.
She knew what he was really asking, but didn’t answer. No one had mentioned the Warlock and the threat he still represented, even without his Splinters. It wasn’t an obstacle she or anyone else could really understand or oppose. The only person capable was sat at the bedside of a dying friend.
Battlemage Page 35