Chaosmage

by Stephen Aryan

  When he made it back onto the street he was limping badly on his left side and shaking with anger. In contrast Balfruss felt calmer than ever before and faced his enemy with an icy detachment. Without realising, Balfruss found himself smiling, not at the injury he’d inflicted, but at the ghosts of yesterday. Finally he would be rid of the Warlock’s shadow that had lingered, long after his death. With the death of Kaine there would also be no more Flesh Mages. Others might rise in time, but the root of so much pain and suffering would at last be at an end.

  Kaine raised a hand to the sky and started to summon a storm, pulling wisps of clouds together from nothing. With a negligent flick of his hand Balfruss severed the skyward threads of power, quickly dispelling the clouds. When he tried to summon more ice Balfruss nudged over a nearby wall, sending it toppling towards Kaine. With a squawk of surprise he dropped the ice shards and focused all of his energy on reinforcing his defences. The slabs of stone shattered against Kaine’s shield and blue sparks erupted on impact. The weight of the wall drove him to his knees, burying him up to his shoulders. Once the stones had settled he emerged again unhurt, though covered in dust and dirt.

  Balfruss was surprised at how ineffective Kaine’s attacks had been so far. They were more like those of a student than someone who the others had called Master.

  “Enough games,” spat Kaine. With one hand he started to weave something small in the palm of his hand while the other maintained his shield. Instead of reinforcing his own, Balfruss focused on the air immediately surrounding Kaine’s shield.

  Summoning more power from the Source he drew moisture and heat from the air, drawing it towards his outstretched hands. As the energy accumulated, an icy dome began to form around Kaine. He screamed something but his words were swiftly cut off as he was sealed inside and disappeared from view.

  Balfruss pulled more heat towards him and the ice prison around Kaine changed colour from white to a deep ocean blue. Blue fire kindled around Balfruss’s hands and arms as the ice continued to grow in thickness. He kept drawing energy from the Source, taking all of the heat from the surrounding air until his breath frosted and a localised shower of snow began to fall in the square.

  Finally he released the Source and waited to see what happened as the magical fire around him began to disperse. As the seconds ticked by, he wondered if Kaine was already dead as the ice prison around him would be air tight. After another few minutes, Balfruss ventured closer, but not before he wove a dense shield around himself so that he wasn’t caught unawares.

  A loud crack rang around the square and a tiny fissure started to run up the ice from the bottom. As Balfruss backed away the ice split further until it was covered with a network of tiny veins. With a loud detonation, a section of Kaine’s ice prison burst open and he slumped forward and slid to the ground.

  Lying on his side Kaine glared up at Balfruss and unleashed the full force of his will. It was fashioned as a crushing force that sought to squeeze the life out of Balfruss and rip his body apart at the same time. It seemed as if Kaine had run out of tricks. Now he had made it into a simple battle of willpower. Balfruss tried to force away Kaine’s attack while he set about trying to strangle the life out of his enemy.

  The two stumbled back and forth, gasping and choking, while flinging each other around with jerky motions like puppets with severed strings. All thought of Kaine’s crimes were driven out of his mind as Balfruss fought to keep himself whole. There was no time to think, or even get angry. All he could do was hold on to the image of himself as he struggled to pull Kaine apart.

  Drawing more energy from the Source Balfruss clamped his teeth together and pressed forward, stretching himself to his absolute limit. Kaine was straining to keep him back, but very quickly Balfruss felt him begin to buckle under the strain. They balanced on the edge of the razor together for a second, with Kaine teetering towards destruction. With a final surge of effort it was over. Kaine’s scream was lost as Balfruss’s will crushed him under a massive hammer made of pure force.

  Kaine was driven into the ground and flattened as if he’d been stepped on by a giant. His skull cracked open, his brains leaked out and both eyes burst like grapes. Ribs were compressed and driven into his internal organs, which exploded from the pressure. He had no time to scream and was dead in an instant. The only noise in the square was a quiet trickling sound as a slow river of blood began to spread out across the stones from the flattened corpse.

  CHAPTER 39

  Zannah watched as Balfruss shuffled down the street, slowly making his way back to the winery. When he eventually made it to the gate she threw down the rope but he just stared at it for a minute in silence. Eventually he gripped the rope with both hands but made no attempt to climb. When he looked up at her from the street below she saw fatigue etched into his features.

  “Hold on. I’ll pull you up,” said Zannah, and he nodded, as if speaking was too taxing. Balfruss wrapped the rope around his waist and held on with both hands. Working hand over hand she pulled him up the wall by herself. The others on the wall watched in silence but made no attempt to help until he reached the top. Then two women pulled him over the lip and supported him down the stairs, one under each arm.

  A few minutes later Monella came up the stairs to the top of the wall. She stood a short distance away from Zannah and just stared out at the desolate city.

  “The Sorcerer is exhausted. He practically fell asleep standing up.” She spoke quietly, as if talking to herself or praying, and didn’t turn her head. It wouldn’t do for others to know she was talking to Zannah. “Do you know what happened?”

  “No,” said Zannah, which made Monella frown, so she added. “He went hunting another wizard. Maybe he found him.”

  Monella harrumphed, spat over the wall and turned to head back down the stairs. Their eyes met for a second and Zannah was surprised to see a mix of emotions behind the old woman’s remaining good eye. The cloudy one told her nothing, but the other showed glimmers of anger and hate, which were familiar, but also something new and alien. Regret. Monella was gone before Zannah had a chance to say anything.

  With little activity during the day to interrupt her thoughts Zannah sometimes lost track of time. Hours would pass by unnoticed as she stood and stared and thought about the past. If not for the unpredictable nature of the nights, her whole life could have been a reflection of this moment; standing atop the wall at her post, waiting for something to happen.

  It was some time later when Alyssa, Tammy and the mercenaries returned. A ragged figure walked with them and it wasn’t until they came closer that she recognised the stranger. Roake. There had to be a good reason he was with Alyssa, let alone that she was speaking to the creature, but Zannah couldn’t think of it. Zannah wanted to ask Alyssa, or shoot Roake full of arrows to drive him away, but instead she said nothing and threw down the rope.

  Alyssa climbed up first and then the mercenaries, one by one, until only Tammy and Roake remained in the street. Some of the others on the wall had noticed him too and were visibly disturbed by his presence. As if Alyssa sensed the unasked questions, she moved to Zannah’s side.

  “We need him,” was all she said, and the clench of her jaw told Zannah that nothing would change her mind. Roake’s arms were so weak they lacked the strength to climb the knotted rope. “Haul him up,” commanded Alyssa. For the second time that day Zannah dragged someone up the wall by herself, but this time the burden was far less. Roake weighed little more than a child as there was so little meat left on his bones. His skin was rotting and discoloured in places. It was as though he were already dead as the stench was like an open grave. When he reached the top of the wall no one rushed to help him over the top. Some of the defenders even moved back or covered their noses and mouths because of the smell.

  As Alyssa descended the stairs Monella came into the courtyard. Surprise and horror warred on her face at the sight of Roake. “What is that creature doing here?” she asked.

  “We
need him and he’s our guest. Find him somewhere to sleep.” Alyssa’s voice carried to everyone on the wall and once more her tone was commanding.

  “You cannot let that inside the building,” argued Monella.

  “Then find him an alternative. That’s your job.” Alyssa went inside without another word, leaving the older woman staring at the grinning corpse. In the end, one of the storage sheds in the courtyard was cleared out. One of Monella’s people swept the room and covered the floor with a couple of colourful blankets. The woman shoved another into Roake’s arms and quickly fled, gagging at the smell.

  “Was it something I said?” he asked. Monella wasn’t amused and just pointed at the shed. With a grisly sneer Roake obediently shuffled inside and closed the door, reducing the fetid cloud in the air.

  An hour after midday and another bowl of rhubarb stew, Alyssa joined Zannah on the wall. Her eyes were red, probably from crying, and she said nothing for a long time. Other people wanted her favour, but they could see she wanted to be left alone and for once they honoured her wishes.

  “We visited the remaining camps,” said Alyssa, running a hand over her freshly shaven scalp. “Another fell in the night and there was nothing left. It was as if no one had ever been living there.”

  It was just as they’d experienced in the past. Long before coming to the winery, they’d seen buildings hollowed out and every person living inside seemed to just vanish. No one had known where they’d gone or had seen any strangers in the area. They had just disappeared. When it began to happen more frequently, one house at a time and then whole streets, the survivors started grouping together.

  The early camps had been little more than enclosures with temporary walls made from overturned carts. For a short time, the semblance of normal life continued within these small cities. But when guards started to vanish at night they knew it wasn’t enough. Fortified areas followed but then fighting broke out over food and fuel to get them through winter. Separate camps followed shortly after, but over and over again they were driven from safety by a growing number of Forsaken.

  The winery and any remaining camps were the last line. Everyone knew they would not fall back to a new base this time. The whole city had become like a carcass picked clean of meat. The stones would not feed or keep them warm. This was the end.

  “I appealed to those who were left to join us, but I have my doubts they’ll listen. Pride, or perhaps taking orders from a woman, stops them. They can see what’s happening and still they ignore it.”

  Zannah knew Alyssa was the best person in their camp to lead and so did the others. That was all that mattered. Humans puzzled her sometimes.

  Alyssa started to say something else and then stopped, briefly resting a hand on Zannah’s arm. Grief and sadness clung to her like a cloak. Once again Zannah was reminded of how small and frail Alyssa seemed at times.

  “You want to tell me something that I will not like to hear.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then say it,” said Zannah, looking up at the cloudy sky. Perhaps it was her yellow eyes, but Alyssa and the others found it easier to say difficult things when she looked elsewhere.

  “We visited the remaining camps, including the old temple.”

  Zannah remained silent and waited for the words that Alyssa was struggling with. There was a blade hidden among them and Alyssa knew it would cut her. It would hurt either way but Zannah always thought it was better to be quick than slow.

  “It was empty. They’re all gone. Roake told us what happened. Fenne was starting to lose control of his people. Their fear of him was diminishing.” Alyssa bit her lip before continuing. “He made a deal to save himself. He opened the gates and sacrificed everyone to the Forsaken. I’ve just had to tell Rheena, the girl Tammy rescued, about her father. Some of the others had relatives inside the temple.”

  It was one thing to hear that relatives were dead. That was difficult, but eventually it came to everyone. The pattern was as old as time itself. People had learned how to cope, but it never became an easy thing.

  To be taken, hollowed out and remade into something else that wore your skin, was a difficult idea to hold in the mind. To see what looked like your family, walking and talking, had fooled many. Those people who welcomed their former kin with open arms were then dragged away and the betrayal they felt cut deeper than any blade.

  “Soon they will rise again. We have a little time yet.”

  “It was two or three nights ago,” said Alyssa.

  A thought occurred which Zannah puzzled over, trying to see it from Alyssa’s point of view, but finding no answer she eventually had to ask. “Why did you hesitate to tell me?”

  “I know you hunted down your people who stayed behind after the war.” She was trying to speak gently but there was no way to soften such things.

  “That is true.”

  “And Fenne escaped. Since then he’s done many evil things. I didn’t want you to feel guilty for those taken from his camp.”

  Zannah checked to make sure this was not a joke, but Alyssa’s expression remained serious. Her shoulders slumped in submission and she cowered, as if expecting to be hit. Perhaps she was supposed to be angry at what Fennetaris had done because he was also a Morrin.

  “His deeds and his crimes are his own. Not mine.”

  “But if you’d caught him, those people might be alive.”

  Zannah shrugged. “Perhaps. But Fennetaris is rotten inside and his heart is black. I do not share the blame for who he is and what he has done.”

  This time Alyssa looked closely at her to check that she was not joking. Despite all the time they’d spent together, Alyssa and the others sometimes baffled her. When Alyssa was satisfied she offered a weak smile and her shoulders rose until she stood proud once more.

  “Were you a tailor?” asked Zannah, more out of habit than anything else.

  Alyssa smiled and shook her head.

  Any further conversation was halted as a figure suddenly appeared at the end of the street. Zannah recognised him immediately. There was something familiar about him that spoke of home. As he came closer, the others on the wall started to panic, calling for weapons and reinforcements. Zannah ignored the bustle of activity while Fennetaris sauntered closer. Soon the wall was bristling with people, all of them armed and many pointing arrows at the lone figure. There was no sign of the Forsaken, but Zannah had no doubt they wouldn’t be far away. They were probably watching to see how he performed. This did not feel like an attack though. He was up to something else.

  When Fennetaris finally stood in the street below they stared at each other in silence for a long time. This was the first time in months, perhaps years, since they’d been face to face like this. He looked older than she remembered. Some of the colour had faded from his hair and beard. And though he did his best to hide it, she could see he was tired and afraid.

  “Speak,” Zannah said, but at first he remained silent. Instead he stared at the people on the wall, one at a time, as if memorising them. All knew who he was and had heard the stories of his crimes. Many could not meet his gaze, but others stared back, angry and defiant. The grin he used on them was a brittle mask but some were still intimidated by it.

  Finally his gaze rested on Alyssa. “You lead them, yes?”

  Alyssa drew herself up and stared down her nose at him. “I do.”

  “And they listen to you? To your orders?”

  “This is not the army. I guide them.”

  Fennetaris considered this for a moment. “If your people were walking towards a pit, would you tell them to keep walking and trust you?”

  “No. I would tell them to stop.”

  He gestured at the city around them. “Stopping in one place has not worked very well.”

  Alyssa would not be baited, but she played along with his game. “Then I would tell my people to go around the pit.”

  “A wise decision. But you cannot go around what approaches. You cannot avoid it. You can stop and wa
it, but the ending will still be the same. It will only be more painful if you fight. All will be Embraced.”

  A faint smile lifted the corners of Alyssa’s mouth. “By your masters?”

  “I have no masters.”

  “All I see is a servant and mouthpiece for someone else.” Alyssa waved him away, dismissing him like a lowly subject in her court.

  Fennetaris snarled but there was little he could do. The time when he could beat to death those who disagreed with him was at an end. He might not wear a lead but he was a servant, nonetheless, of those more powerful than him.

  “I am here to offer you one chance for a peaceful solution. If you resist, then many of your people will be injured. Some may even die.”

  “And that would displease your masters, yes?” said Alyssa, copying his way of speaking.

  “You dare mock me?” said Fennetaris. Bowstrings were pulled back and a dozen arrows pointed at his chest. He glared up at Alyssa as if totally unaware of the odds. “I will kill you with my bare hands. I will crush your skull and—”

  “You will do nothing. You are nothing.” Alyssa’s words cut Fennetaris off as if she had slapped him across the face. His mouth gaped but no more words emerged. “You have no power over me or anyone else,” continued Alyssa. “In fact, I pity you.”

  To be loathed and feared were things he was used to, but to be pitied was more than he could bear.

  Fennetaris glared up at her. “I offered the other camps the same deal,” he snarled, “but there will not be an Embrace for you. Tonight will be your last as individuals. Tomorrow all of you will be taken and changed by the parasites against your will. There will be no balance, only slavery.”

  Zannah called out to him. “Even if everything you say comes to be, it will not change what you are.” His head snapped around and she leaned forward, hands on the wall, glaring at her former countryman. “You will always be a coward, Fennetaris.”