Bringers of Doom

by Blake Arthur Peel

  I have to find him, I think to myself, politely extricating myself from the people around me. I have to tell him how I really feel.

  Hiking up my cumbersome robes, I make for the exit of the raising chamber, searching through the crowds of people for the ranger's apprentice.

  The hallway outside the chamber is wide and austere, lit by natural light from the large windows set into the far wall. My footfalls echo on the polished marble, mixing with the chaotic sounds of people talking and jesting with one another.

  I cast my eyes about, looking for him amid the throngs of mages and aristocrats, and finally spot him a little way down the hall, looking very out of place.

  As soon as I see him I feel myself start to grin like a fool. Of all the people who came to see me raised, he was the only one I cared about. The fact that he came to support me, despite feeling like a fish out water in this great city, means the world to me.

  And that is exactly what I am going to tell him.

  I make my way down the hall, walking at a brisk pace despite the ceremonial robes about my shoulders. He looks up at me as I approach, and I am pleased to see the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile, mirroring my own.

  Something in the back of my mind nags at me, picking up on something in Owyn’s expression that seems a little off, but I ignore it.

  Right now, it feels like there are butterflies in my stomach.

  “Hello, Owyn,” I say breathlessly, brushing a stray hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ear. “I'm glad you were able to make it.”

  His smile widens, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Zara, congratulations. Truly I – you look so.... I’m happy for you.”

  I laugh, and I can see his cheeks start to grow red.

  “This is all so unbelievable, isn’t it? I mean, I knew that Elva had wanted to raise me, but to have the High Magus organize it so quickly... and the amount of people! I honestly did not think so many would care to see me raised, since I am so young.”

  “I can believe it,” Owyn says softly, his eyes looking deep into mine. For a moment, it’s as if he is peering straight into my soul, and I find myself unable to speak under that gaze. “You’re one of the most amazing people I have ever met,” he goes on, his voice sounding a little pained. “If anyone deserves this kind of attention, it is you. You are going to accomplish so much, Zara.”

  Without thinking I reach out and take his hand in mine, squeezing it gently as we stare into each other’s eyes. It feels as though the entire world around us melts away, and it is just me and him, alone in our own world.

  “Owyn, I... I'm so happy that you decided to come to the ceremony. I know that we've only known each other for a short time, but I want you to know that I care about you so much. I very much look forward to spending more time with you."

  He holds my gaze for several heartbeats, squeezing my hand with his calloused fingers, but his expression suddenly fills with sadness. He abruptly lets go and takes a step back. "I care about you too, Zara. But I won't be staying in Tarsys."

  The world around us abruptly comes roaring back.

  It feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on my head.

  "You're leaving?"

  He nods, green eyes brimming with sorrow. "Today. I have been summoned to return to the Grand Lodge, the rangers' headquarters."

  He gestures behind him and for the first time I notice a woman leaning against the wall near a window. She wears a ranger's cloak draped over tight-fitting leather armor, a golden braid pulled over her shoulder as she watches us curiously with piercing hazel eyes that remind me of a hawk.

  Jealousy suddenly stabs my heart like a dagger.

  A flood of thoughts runs through my head. Who is this woman? Why is Owyn leaving me? What a fool I am for allowing myself to be so vulnerable in front of him. All I manage to get out, however, is a despondent, "Oh."

  "Zara," Owyn says, bringing my attention back to him. "I'm so sorry. I want to stay, to be with you, but my oath–"

  "It's fine," I interrupt, carefully smoothing the lines on my face and adopting an emotionless mask. "I completely understand. Your duty first and foremost is to the protection of the realm. If you are called, then you must answer."

  An awkward silence settles between us, and Owyn's eyes drop to the ground.

  "Zara," he pleads, much more quietly this time. "There's really nothing I can do."

  Sadness and bitterness wage war in my heart, but something unexpected bubbles to the surface, completely overcoming every other emotion within me.

  Anger.

  "Go," I say, my voice icing over like a stream in the depths of winter. "There is nothing for you here anyway. I'm a full mage now, and I have a job to do."

  For a moment he looks stricken, as though I had physically struck him with my words. His eyes widen and he blanches, but it only lasts a second. The stoic demeanor of Elias Keen appears on Owyn's face, his gaze hardening into stone.

  "Goodbye, Magus," he states coldly, bowing his head ever so slightly. "I wish you well on your future at the Conclave. Perhaps one day our paths will cross again."

  I nod my head in return, holding his gaze and refusing to break it. "Farewell, Ranger Lund. May the Light bless you on your journey."

  He stares at me for a moment, and I catch a faint glimmer in his eye, as if he is hoping for me to say something else and not let this moment end on such a distant tone. But after a few heartbeats it disappears. I watch him turn on his heels and approach the female ranger, his back to me like a wall separating us.

  "Are you ready to depart?" The woman asks, her voice measured and professional. She at me over his shoulder and arches an eyebrow.

  "Yes," he declares, putting a hand on his hatchet like he always does.

  "Then we will return to your room and gather your things. We can probably put a few leagues between us and the city before nightfall."

  They depart without another word, but before they disappear into the crowd I see Owyn take one last glance at me.

  And then they are gone.

  As I make my way to my new chambers I feel like I am in a daze. My feet glide weightlessly as I exit the Pillar of Radiance and make my way to the Azure Tower next door, carrying me as if they belonged to somebody else. I feel numb, emotionless, as if I am floating in a dream, and before I realize it, I am standing outside of my residence, robes hanging heavily from my shoulders.

  Numbly, my fingers reach up and grasp the latch, pulling down and pushing the unlocked door inward.

  Chambers are given to every newly raised mage that are far more lavish than anything at the Academy. Inside, I see that in addition to a bedroom and cooking area, there is a sitting room, a study, a lavatory, and a storage closet. Everything a new mage would need to start their life at the Conclave.

  Right now, however, I find that my awe is muted, my excitement snuffed out like a candle.

  Stepping inside I close the door behind me and wander to my bedroom, finding my plush mattress made up with fresh blankets and sheets. A wide window gives me a breathtaking view of Tarsys, lighting the room in sunlight, but I completely ignore it.

  I shuffle over to my bed and fall face down on the mattress, letting the soft goose down envelop me.

  Then I begin to cry.

  My eyes burn as the salty tears flow, slowly at first, but quickly gaining speed and intensity. I sob into my pillow, not caring that my ruined makeup is staining the clean fabric as I cry.

  This is supposed to be the happiest day of my life, I think bitterly to myself and I weep. I am the youngest mage ever to be raised in the Conclave's history, and yet all that I can think of is that stupid boy.

  I find myself aching for his presence, his absence feeling like a literal pain in my heart. How quick he was to leave me, I think, struggling to gasp for breath as I cry. How quick he was to leave my side. He was all too happy to go. Why should I care so much for him? I barely know him at all! He is just some boy that I met once on a trip, an
d we had fun flirting with each other. That's all. There are plenty of others in the city that would love to get close to me on that level.

  But why then does this one make me hurt so much?

  I lay there for what seems like hours, crying and sniffling like a heartsick girl, but eventually it stops. Sitting up in my bed, I stare sullenly out the window with puffy, red eyes.

  It feels like there are simply no more tears to shed, like my body has been wrung out.

  I wipe my nose with the sleeve of my ceremonial mage robes I take in a deep, haggard breath. "I'm such an idiot," I say to the window, brushing a tangle of hair out of my eyes. "There is so much at stake right now, and you are upset over some boy. Eleven Hells, you were never even romantically involved!"

  Staring out at the sprawling city in front of me, I make a silent vow to lose myself in the work of being a mage. For one reason or another, I have been given an opportunity to make a difference. I now have access to limitless resources and actual authority. Whatever forces are seeking the destruction of the kingdom, I now have the power to investigate and stop.

  Strangely, the thought makes me feel better.

  Turning to look at myself in the mirror on the far wall, I grimace. I look positively dreadful. Sliding off the bed, I move to clean myself off and change into a new set of clothes. There are still several hours left in the day, and I have still yet to discover what my responsibilities as a mage entail.

  Forgetting about Owyn and my fatigue, I decide to get to work.

  Chapter Eleven

  Owyn

  Leaving Zara feels like having my heart ripped out.

  Her reaction was so unexpected, I find myself thinking as the ranger woman and I exit the Pillar of Radiance. I expected surprise, sadness even, but hostility? I don’t think I’ll ever understand women as long as I live.

  The mages all give us a wide berth as we stride out into the open courtyard. The ranger woman wears her weapons proudly, like a badge of honor, and she walks with the easy grace of a trained killer, her movements both lithe and determined.

  Next to her, I must look like an untrained child.

  “Are you at least going to tell me why we're going to the Grand Lodge?” I ask quietly, keeping my voice down to avoid attracting any more attention. “You’re taking me against my will, I deserve to know that much.”

  She halts in mid-step and whips her head around to regard me. Her withering stare makes me want to retreat into the crowd and never look back.

  “Let’s get one thing clear, apprentice,” she snaps, leveling a finger at me. “You don’t deserve anything. Your duty is to listen to orders and to follow them to the letter. Understand? Apprentices do not live on their own, away from their post, rubbing shoulders with mages! If I tell you to come, you come. If I tell you to go, you go. There is not going to be any negotiation involved.”

  The ferocity in which she berates me is so intense that it leaves me momentarily speechless. I stand there, mouth agape, as she continues to glare at me, the onlookers around us picking up their pace, no doubt so that they can avoid her wrath.

  Finally, when I find my voice again, I nod my head and meekly say, “Okay.”

  “Good,” she replies curtly, turning away from me and continuing her brisk walk through the courtyard. Over her shoulder, as if it were a side note, she remarks, “You are going to report to the Master Warden directly. He will be interested to know exactly what you told the High Magus last night. From there, we will decide what sort of discipline we should pursue.”

  If I had been surprised before, now I am completely and utterly shocked.

  Somehow, I have the sense to continue following after her, but my body seems to be moving of its own accord. My mind is still reeling from everything that's happened.

  First Warden Moyle, one of the most renowned rangers in the world, is escorting me to meet with the Master Warden himself? Light almighty, I think to myself as we cut through the courtyard. What have I gotten myself into?

  The Wardens are among the highest-ranking rangers in Tarsynium. There are four in total, one of each quadrant of the kingdom, and Tamara Moyle is the most famous of them all. She has fought in dozens of battles against bandits and rebels but is primarily known for slaying some of the fiercest beasts the wilderness has to offer. Master Warden Thorne, on the other hand, is a bloody legend. The eldest of the rangers, he has led the organization for decades, fighting on nearly every front and training an entire generation of rangers in the ways of combat. His prowess and knowledge of the natural world are well renowned.

  All things considered, these two are not the sort of people I want as enemies.

  We make our way to the guest tower where I slept the night before. Compared to the Pillar of Radiance, it looks like nothing more than a small pile of stones, though it truth it is still quite formidable. We go to my floor in complete silence, climbing the winding stairs rather than taking the lifts, and when we enter my room she stands in the doorway, arms crossed sternly in front of her.

  “Don’t take too long,” she snaps, staring daggers at me. “I want to be out of this blasted city as soon as possible, and we still need to find you a horse.”

  “I have a horse,” I say, walking over to my bag and stuffing my meager supplies inside of it.

  Tamara shakes her head, which causes her braid to dance on her leather armor like a golden snake. “We will find you a new one. Those carriages you arrived in belong to the Conclave, and getting them out would require a mountain of paperwork. I’m not dealing with any more mages or their bureaucracy today.”

  I bite back a remark as I continue to hastily pack, not wanting to provoke her ire any more than I already have. I can almost feel her eyes on me as I strap my bedroll to my bag with flaxen chords. Part of me wonders if the First Warden herself has ever had an apprentice. If so, I pity the miserable soul.

  It doesn’t take me long to finish putting my things together, and soon I am standing in front of her, bag on my back and bow slung over my shoulder.

  “Ready,” I say to break the uncomfortable silence of the empty room.

  “Good,” she replies, turning around and striding down the hall without looking to see if I am following.

  Taking a deep breath, I move to go after her.

  Her stoic demeanor and lack of conversation reminds me of Elias, and for the first time today I am reminded of hollow emptiness that not having a master has created within me. I wonder idly if he will know where to find me now that I am leaving the city. I'd ask Tamara, but her current mood seems to invite little to no questions.

  Is it a requirement for rangers to be so impassive all of the time?

  We descend through the tower and come out the bottom, veering away from the Conclave and into the city itself. If I had thought that Tarsys was impressive at night, it was nothing compared to how it appeared in the revealing light of day.

  The entire city appears to be white, constructed almost entirely out of granite and white marble. It slopes down like a mountain from the cluster of towers that make up the Conclave, sprawling out into the Heartlands in all directions in a veritable sea of buildings. For a moment I gape in awe at the sight in front of me. Great domes and steeples dot the landscape in front of me, crisscrossed by streets of all sizes and a wide range of houses, churches and tenements.

  I am shaken from my reverie by Tamara’s harsh voice. “Apprentice,” she barks, already almost lost in the crowd ahead of me. “Keep up!”

  I shake my head, trying to focus on the task at hand, but I still find it difficult not to stare at everything around me. Shifting the pack on my shoulders, I hurriedly walk over to where she is standing in the middle of the road, watching me with thinly veiled impatience.

  Our walk to the edge of the city is long but rather enjoyable, despite the circumstances. It reminds me of the first time I saw Elias fight – awed and amazed, and also a little bit frightened. So many people in one place makes me nervous, and in a flash I am reminded of t
he attack on our caravan out on the road.

  Assassins could be lurking in every corner and I would have no idea, I think to myself as we delve into a rather narrow side street. It is much less crowded than the boulevard we came from, but it seems to cut a more direct route to our destination. I only hope that Tamara is better at navigating this city than me. She certainly seems more comfortable.

  She moves like a wolf among sheep, her hand never straying far from the sword bouncing on her hip. Something about that comforts me, and it makes me glad that I am on her side.

  If I even am on her side, that is.

  As we near the edge of the city the buildings become less audacious. Humble homes and stone buildings are spaced out further and further apart, and soon we find ourselves in front of a wide stable built from wood and crumbling white stone. To my right rises the great capital city of the realm. To my left, the rolling farms of the Heartlands.

  Tamara steps up to the stable and raps her knuckles on the door three times.

  It opens, revealing a bent old man wearing a wool-spun tunic with trousers tucked into riding boots. He looks up at Tamara and a flicker of recognition flashes through his eyes. “Are you on your way out then?” He asks with a voice like creaking leather.

  “Yes,” she replies simply, producing a thick silver coin from somewhere within her cloak. She hands it to the old man, who pockets it without even looking at it.

  “Come on back,” he says, stepping inside and gesturing for us to come in.

  The inside of the building is simple, a fire pit for cooking in the center and a few odd bits of furniture. A single bedframe is pushed up against the far wall, and a half-eaten apple stuck with a knife rests on the small kitchen table.

  “This way.” He gestures to a door on the side of the room adjacent to us. “You’ll find that your bags are prepared and your horse saddled.”