Chaosmage

by Stephen Aryan

  CHAPTER 31

  Fenne stared at the distant wisps of smoke rising from the ruins of what had once been another mercenary camp. At first light he’d sent a dozen men to check the ruins for anything they could salvage. At first all they’d found were blackened stones, charred timbers and a few scattered lumps of bone and burned human meat. Every other body in the camp was gone. They’d left behind clothes, food, blankets and weapons, which his mercenaries brought back with them. Fenne had enough weapons to arm everyone in his camp twice over. Not that it would make a difference.

  This morning the sky was so blue it hurt his eyes and, even worse, there was no cloud or wind. The smoke from the fallen base hung over the city like a black cloud of doom that would not disperse. The air was bitingly cold and frost glittered on hard surfaces like a scattering of diamonds.

  As Fenne moved around the former temple grounds he noticed the changes in how people were reacting to him. Some were subtle, sly glances from eye corners, where before the local people had not dared look at him at all. Others were far more direct and showed a clear lack of respect. A few of the mercenaries didn’t stand up when he approached or even stop what they were doing and acknowledge his presence. Occasionally their answers to his questions were terse and bordering on insolent.

  So far, they’d continued to follow his orders, but he suspected it was only because they hadn’t decided how to get rid of him. He knew they were planning something. But in a city with few choices and little to gain from being in charge, no one was willing to take on his responsibility. Not just yet anyway. It would happen though, and very soon. Someone would step forward and try to wrestle control from him. Then they would have a target painted on their back.

  It had all started to change with that woman. The Seve fighter. Her victory and insolence in front of everyone had led to others thinking they could show him disrespect. Her presence had infected everyone, and some of the mercenaries, like that weasel Kovac and his friends, had supported her from the beginning. Perhaps they’d hoped she would end up in charge and make everything better.

  Fenne had done his best to stamp it out. He’d made a public spectacle when getting rid of Kovac, forcing him out as night fell to send a clear message to the others. They should have been more afraid of him after that, but for some reason it hadn’t worked. In fact, somehow, it made things worse. A lot of people had liked Kovac, although he didn’t know why. So far he’d not come back as one of the Forsaken, but it was only a matter of time. When Kovac tried to drag one of his old friends away they would soon forget.

  Fenne completed his circuit of the base and his eyes alighted on one of the local women. She was just skin and bone, they all were like that after being in the camps, but this one still held a vague shadow of beauty. When she saw Fenne staring at her she should have cowered or run away. She knew what was coming and should’ve been afraid for her life. Instead she lifted her chin and glared at him. She dared to openly defy him. Fenne was so surprised he turned away, pretending he hadn’t noticed her. Even the former slaves were rebelling.

  The war had been a glorious time. He’d indulged in such wonderful sport here in Voechenka, pitting the locals against each other for money. Feasting on the best food and wine until his stomach was swollen and his head swimming. At one point he’d fought and killed until he became lost in a blood haze, only to emerge days later to find himself surrounded by a sea of bodies. When the war ended he’d stayed behind and thought the best time in his life would continue.

  Now the country was a rotting corpse and he was just another maggot crawling through decaying flesh, looking for nourishment.

  Two bases had been destroyed in two nights and only four remained, including his. One of those was protected by that traitorous hag, Zannahrae. Fenne ground his teeth and spat, feeling his temper flare as he thought about her. She’d betrayed her country. She’d hunted down her own people, choosing to side with the yellow-skinned slaves. Fenne started to shake with anger as he remembered stumbling across the butchered corpses of his friends.

  Someone said something behind him and in a rage he span around and lashed out. It was one of the local women, offering him some breakfast as she did every morning. The woman went flying and so did his food, landing in the dirt.

  The woman’s wounded expression made him even more furious. It was almost as if she expected him to apologise. Drawing his axe Fenne brought it down on the woman’s head, splitting her skull open and spraying brains and blood everywhere. Howling in rage he hacked away at the woman but she’d been dead from the first blow. The fire was still burning inside and he didn’t feel satisfied. Even now, as he started to force himself to calm down, everyone was staring. Fenne was used to that, but he wasn’t used to seeing disappointment in their eyes.

  That doused him in cold water and helped make his decision. He cleaned his axe on the woman’s clothing and stormed back to his room. After pulling on his armour, he stalked towards the gate.

  “Open it,” he said to the men lurking nearby. When one of them hesitated, Fenne moved towards him, and the man quickly leapt into action. Another few seconds and Fenne would have thrown him into the pit.

  They were probably wondering why he was going out into the city. He’d not done it in weeks and never went alone. If they thought he was going to make it easy for them they would be sorely disappointed.

  “Do you want us to come with you?” asked one of the few who were still loyal.

  “No. I need you to wait here and make sure they let me back in.”

  Fenne didn’t wait for a response. It would be a sign of weakness and it was critical he showed none at this stage. He needed the mercenaries to think that he remained unaware of their disloyalty.

  The gates were cranked open and the gangplank laid out. Fenne walked across the pit as the plank was settling and marched down the street without looking back. He headed west to the end of the street and paused after turning the corner. In the heavy shadows between two tall buildings he took a moment to calm his frayed nerves and get his bearings. It had been some time since he’d last explored the city and several buildings had fallen down in the interim.

  He travelled east and stuck to narrow streets until he was certain no one from the temple walls could see where he was going. After that, Fenne strolled down once-grand avenues that were now nothing more than dirty and barren pathways that echoed with the sound of his footsteps. There was nothing else to hear in every direction. No birds or dogs barking. No merchants standing in doorways shouting about their wares. No priests on street corners bragging about theirs being the one true god. Not even the trickle of water in the fountains. They were empty, rusting and forlorn like everything else in sight. The whole city had become a ghost town that reeked of despair and abandonment.

  Further to the north-east Fenne smelled the lake, but he turned away from it and angled deeper into the city. No one had come to this area in months. There was no reason to come here. At least that’s what everyone said and what they told themselves. The rumours said this was where it had all begun. Where the first of the Forsaken had abducted someone during the cold winter after the war. Whether it was true or not, some sort of disease had swept through the neighbourhood and lots of people started to die and disappear. It seemed like a good place to start his search for them.

  After that many locals had fled the city, trying to outrun whatever stalked them in their homes. Others stayed behind and fought on but it proved pointless. They’d all died until no one wanted to live here. Until only death stalked the streets. Even the criminals moved out. It should have made a perfect hideout for them. An entire area with no patrols and no law, where they could live like kings in homes full of luxury. But even the rats knew when it was time to flee, and the killers and thieves had scurried away.

  Fenne stopped in front of a huge mansion with two columns on either side of the front door. This was where he’d lived for a time. Now it was a rotting husk, stripped bare of anything that could be sold,
burned or melted down. Glimpsed through the open doorway it now resembled a mausoleum.

  Without him realising it, his feet began to drag and a prickle of fear became something else. A cold hand on the back of his neck. A gnawing sensation, telling him to turn around and leave. Next came the smell. A sulphurous stench of rotting eggs, decaying flesh and rivers of shit. The further he went the worse it became until it clogged his senses and he felt as if he were tasting it with every breath.

  Finally his feet stopped of their own accord, as though he’d walked into a solid barrier.

  “I want to talk,” he tried to say, but nothing more than a croak emerged. Fenne tried to wet his lips but found his mouth was horribly dry. He couldn’t summon any spit and even though his heart was racing there was no sweat on his skin. All of the moisture in his body had abandoned him. He struggled to speak as the silence of the city pressed down on him. The stench filled his nose and mouth and all of his senses were screaming at him to turn back.

  He tried to cry out in defiance but made no sound. He would not turn back. He would not be bested by this sorcery. It was all in his mind. Going back would mean sitting and waiting to die. Waiting for someone to stab him in the back or cut his throat while he slept. He would not be hunted again. Zannahrae had stalked all of them, but only he had survived. He would not go back to living in fear like that.

  Pulling up his right sleeve Fenne bit into the flesh of his forearm until the blood flowed, wetting his mouth.

  “I am here!” he bellowed, his voice echoing off the stone façades of the once-great homes. “Here!” he shouted again. Blood trickled down his arm and dripped off his fingers onto the street. The arid ground greedily drank up his offering as the blood quickly disappeared into the cracks between the stones.

  The feeling of being watched increased and the stench of filth diminished slightly. He sensed movement at his left eye corner and turning that way saw something flitting around inside one of the buildings. There was more movement to his right and then all around as the itch between his shoulder blades increased. He was dimly aware that several pairs of eyes were staring at him.

  He licked the blood from his arm to wet his mouth before speaking again.

  “I’m here to make an offer.”

  “Why would we need anything from you?” asked a sibilant whisper. A golden-skinned local woman with short red hair sauntered towards him. She was plump with rosy cheeks and her lazy swagger showed how at ease she felt. Part of Fenne itched to take off her head to teach her a lesson. But he could feel the others watching even if he couldn’t see them.

  “I want protection. I want to live, without being changed.”

  The woman came close enough to touch him but Fenne didn’t flinch or turn his head as she circled him. He knew she was looking him up and down like a cow at the meat market, trying to assess his worth.

  “I should just take you now. Make you one of us.” Fenne said nothing and kept staring straight ahead, ignoring the rising tide of emotions the woman brought to the surface. Some of it came from him, but there was some outside force at work in his mind. He could feel it dragging its nails through the shadowy parts of his memory, pulling the worst to the surface for inspection. The woman chuckled at something and continued to walk around him, trailing a finger across his shoulders. Maybe she delighted in the things he had done, or perhaps she laughed because she thought him foolish. Without the others to protect her from his wrath she would not laugh. She would scream and beg him for mercy.

  “Once you feel the Embrace, you will thank me.”

  “I am here to make a deal, in return for my safety.”

  “Tell me, Morrin man, what do you have to offer?” asked the Forsaken. “What do you think you can give us that we cannot take?”

  Fenne’s sneer made her pause in her endless circuit. “How many die every night? How many heads do you lose?” The woman said nothing but he could see she was listening, her head cocked to one side like a stupid dog. She was that. A lapdog for whoever was really in charge. “In two nights you have taken two of the remaining camps. I wondered why at first, but the answer was not hard to find. The city is dead. There is nothing left to claim. Desperation forces you to attack. But the cost of taking each camp is high.”

  “We have enough to destroy you.”

  Fenne laughed in her face because he already knew he’d won. “No, you don’t. Or we wouldn’t be talking. You would have claimed me already.”

  The woman was quiet for a long time but eventually she stopped directly in front of him. There was now a stiffness to her posture and her eyes were pinched. “I am listening.”

  “You will not claim me. In return I will work with you.”

  “And what do you offer?”

  “My people. If we fight together we can take the other bases more quickly and fewer will die.”

  The woman moved closer and stood on her toes until her nose was almost touching his. Fenne’s instincts told him to kill her or run, but he fought both urges and remained, staring into her eyes. “And what do you get from this?”

  “You cannot stay here. Once the camps are gone you must move on. I want you to leave.”

  “Why? So you can remain and be the ruler of this city of bone and ashes?” Her tone was mocking, which made his hands twitch. Instead of reaching for his axe Fenne clenched them into fists. She saw the movement and grinned. “Do it.”

  He ignored her goading. “Do you accept my deal?”

  “No. I have a different offer to make.” The woman finally stepped back and made a series of flicking gestures with both hands, as if trying to shake the water from them. Boots scraped on stone and a dozen people walked towards him from all sides. They all looked well fed, rested and each carried a blunt weapon.

  The circle of bodies tightened slowly and this time he did draw his axe. He would kill them. He would not be taken. He would make them hurt him so badly he could not be turned and hollowed-out like the others.

  “Your offer is not good enough.” The woman’s voice drew his focus back to her face. “Your people could turn on us at any time. We cannot trust you.”

  Fenne licked his lips and tasted blood. “What is your deal?”

  “Your life for theirs. We will spare you, but in return we want you to give all of them to us. Every person in your camp will be Embraced.” The Forsaken stepped closer until they were just outside the reach of his axe. “Or we will take you now. Choose now, and choose wisely.”

  Fenne looked at the eager faces around him. None were familiar but all had the same eyes. Some thing lived inside them and he sensed that it was watching him. It had made them more and yet less than what they had been before.

  He knew they wanted him to fight. Hands tightened on weapons and eyes strayed to his axe, waiting for his first strike.

  “I accept.”

  The others were visibly disappointed but the woman seemed delighted. The circle of bodies immediately moved away, disappearing into the shadows, leaving him alone with her.

  “When?” he asked.

  “As soon as darkness falls. Open the gate and we will be there.”

  Fenne waited for her to say more but she just stared at him with those empty eyes.

  By the time he reached the temple gates he’d regained his self-control. The gates were closed and at first it seemed as if his efforts had been for nothing. They would leave him outside until nightfall. Then he would be taken instead and become one of the Forsaken.

  Slowly though, the gate began to open and Fenne did his best to hide his relief. None of the mercenaries spoke to him, but many who saw him turned their faces away. Part of their fear of him had returned. Perhaps it was the dried blood smeared across his face or the look in his eyes.

  When night began to fall he returned to the gates and stared out into the empty street. At first he thought the woman had lied but he could think of no reason why she would have done so. Then, although he could still see nothing, Fenne felt the familiar prickle of
someone staring and with it came the awful smell of rot and decay.

  “Open the gate,” he told those closest, as he went to stand in front of them. They hesitated and just stared. “New allies have arrived. Open the gate or I will kill you and do it myself.”

  Still they hesitated, casting fearful looks at the darkening sky overhead. The sun had not yet completely dipped below the horizon but it would not be long. Drawing his axe Fenne pulled back his arm and prepared to kill one of the men with it, which finally prompted them into action. The gate was opened and the plank laid out, but the street remained empty.

  Fenne had not counted to ten heartbeats when the woman appeared. Behind her came a few, then two dozen and then more. All of them were Forsaken. All of them had been tainted and transformed.

  As the woman crossed the gangplank and came into the grounds, he saw the confusion in the faces of those surrounding him. That changed into fear and then terror as the first person was clubbed over the head. The Forsaken began to flood into the temple grounds and the screaming began. Weapons were drawn and people tried to fight back but it was too late. There were too many of them and there was nowhere to run.

  Fenne watched as those around him fought for their lives against the inevitable tide. Clubs rose and fell, knocking people down until the ground was littered with a sea of unconscious bodies. The locals fell first as they had so little fight left in them. Soon afterwards, blood was spilt as the mercenaries fought back, but it was a retreating battle and eventually they too were outnumbered and pulled down.

  The screaming continued, on and on until Fenne thought it would never stop. Finally the last body fell to the ground. Silence should have returned but he could still hear them in his mind. Screaming and pleading for their lives.

  CHAPTER 32

  Balfruss and Tammy stood side by side on the wall, staring into the dark. Both were wrapped in silence, lost in their own thoughts.