Sanctuary

by Nally, Fergal F

  "Never thought I'd see you again Elias. What're you doing here? I thought you had unfinished business?"

  "It's over now. I heard about what happened at Nictiam and knew that's where you were headed. I thought I'd come and see if you needed help. It's worse than I feared. The whole of the ninth army is holed up there. It looks grim. Rogue angels and plague do not bode well for us or the Erthe."

  Luana looked at Elias. "I do believe that's the most I've heard you say since we've met." She allowed herself a slight smile.

  Elias looked at her for a moment without speaking. Then he too smiled. "I like it that you can smile when the whole world is falling apart. You've done well to get this far."

  Luana drew close to Elias and looked beyond him at Spirit. "I see you've a new horse, a beauty. Why don't you join Moose and me for some breakfast?"

  "Now that's a good idea, I'll bring Spirit. Lead on."

  Luana waited until Elias had untied Spirit, then she led the way through the trees to their camp.

  Moose heard them approach and let out a whoop when he saw Elias. "That was more than five minutes Luana, but I'll allow you to be late if this's what you bring back." Moose strode forwards and offered his hand to Elias. "Well met Elias, good to see you're still in one piece my friend."

  Elias took Moose's hand and slapped him on the shoulder. Then Elias tethered Spirit and sat down beside Luana at the fire. They shared a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon and bread. Elias told them of his journey and Luana gave him an update of their progress.

  "What next?" Elias asked.

  Luana looked down and was silent. Elias and Moose waited. The fire crackled.

  Moose spoke. "Tell him."

  Luana looked up. Elias was surprised to see tears on her cheeks.

  "What is it?"

  Luana took a deep breath. "Moose and I, we're… dead. We were killed in the avalanche. What you see and hear is not real… somehow. I've had visions, dreams. Even last night. I'm supposed to go to Echo Island to contact an archangel…"

  Elias looked at her in disbelief. Moose raised his eyebrows. She told them of her dream. She explained to Elias how she heard the voice in her head explaining that she and Moose had unfinished business on the Erthe.

  "I don’t understand it myself but I now believe it's what I must do."

  Moose lent back. "Well, we were going to Echo Island for sanctuary. So now, we've one more reason to get there. What about our diversion to the north? The frost giants? I thought we were going to try and make contact."

  Elias lent forwards and let out a low whistle. "Well, now I've heard it all. You're both dead and you're actually going to seek out frost giants? There's something not right here. If you're dead, I'm a badger's arse. Granted, I take your point about not leaving footsteps or not having a shadow but who knows what sorcery may be behind this? I've seen some strange things in my time, believe me. I think you're being played."

  Luana looked sceptical. "By who? Why?"

  Elias grunted. "That's the golden question. I'm afraid I've no answer but I smell a rat."

  Moose spat in the fire. "Well, we may find answers on Echo Island."

  "How to get there is the problem. Passage on a boat at Nictiam isn't going to happen now. We'll need to search further north for a vessel to take us there. We need to get away from this plague." Luana looked up at the sky as if for inspiration.

  "So that's our plan? A loose one at that. We may end up in giant territory after all," Elias declared. "Still, I think your strategy to reach high ground and push north is a good one. This plague will spread to the smaller settlements all along the coast. We need to out run it… find something well clear of here."

  They fell silent and watched the flames flicker. After a while, Luana stood up. "Well then, let's be off. I'm keen to find answers. We won't get any sitting around here."

  They stood and made their preparations for the road. Elias would scout ahead on Spirit finding the best route for them to take.

  Luana watched Elias setting out. It was good to be moving again. It was comforting to be near Elias once more. After their conversation, she felt uncertain.

  Was Elias right? Was she being played? Who or what was pulling her strings? These thoughts played on her mind. Moose kept up with her, lost in his own world.

  ~

  Calim Dove returned the creed stick to its holder. He had been successful in directing the fugitive slave and her companion until now. He felt a shift in her conviction. He picked up her doubt and suspicion the moment he handled the creed stick. Something had changed. He would have to tread carefully. She was wary.

  His first dabbling in thrall magic had led him to this backwater of influence. Yes, thrall magic had been a great success and the Magisters had been pleased. They had used it to control the angel host and had captured a great many of them after the battle of Jaylin Bridge. The fact that so many were kept prisoner in thrall did not trouble him. The Magisters had pacified him. He felt no emotion.

  Then he discovered the creed stick. He could steer the destiny of others by subconscious suggestion. He was still learning, it was a process of trial and error. He had chosen Luana's name from a list of suitable candidates. Her spirit had shone brightly; the creed stick was attracted to her. Her circumstances were ideal. No connections, a fresh start, a fugitive on the run. It had all fallen into place.

  He had guided her mind gently at first. He had reinforced the idea she needed to reach Echo Island. That was where the portal was for the archangels. They were the only power that could possibly take on the Magisters. He had researched the scrolls in the royal libraries on their history.

  Persistence, he told himself. It would unfold as he intended. There would be twists and turns along the way but he was going to see it through. Perhaps then he would have closure and deep peace over his parents' memory.

  Calim Dove returned to the seeing wall and connected with the Magisters' consciousness. They opened to him; he allowed them to use his second sight. The situation in Nictiam had worsened and the ninth army had been routed. The fools had unleashed the plague and an angel had gone rogue. Calim sighed; his second sight gave the Magisters the information they sought.

  It was strange, he mused. They only accessed his mind to look forwards. If they searched his past, they would see the treachery lying there. They would see betrayal. But they never looked back. Calim Dove reflected on the blindness of power.

  His plan would gather momentum, it was meant to be.

  ~

  Travin felt as if his head had exploded. He saw nothing but white light. He felt searing pain. He fell to the ground and lost consciousness. Frai rushed to his captain, concern etched across his face. Frai did not see the shapes approaching; he did not hear the net as it flew towards him.

  It caught his legs; he tripped and fell just short of Travin. The shapes came silently from the darkness and claimed their prize. Frai struggled briefly but was unable to break free from the net. A club struck his arm; he felt a sickening crunch. Pain exploded within him and he blacked out.

  The infected swarmed over Frai's inert form and dragged him away. They reached a long narrow pit full of soldiers' bodies. Something thrashed around under the dead. Body parts were ripped off by whip like tendrils from beneath the surface. They disappeared deep into the plague pit. Something dread was at work. Frai's body was thrown into the pit to join his dead brothers.

  Travin's unconscious form was passed over, ignored. He was lost in his own world of torment. A change dwelt inside him. The fallen angel's blood had claimed him. It carried an essence from another world that sought deliverance. The change was at work, within his spirit. He was powerless to resist.

  He felt the angel's anger at being imprisoned by thrall magic. He felt the angel's rage at being forced to do things against its will. He felt its hunger for revenge. He was not held in thrall, that domination had ended when the angel had died.

  Travin, captain of the ninth army, carried the rogue angel's essence. H
e was free. He would pursue retribution. His revenge would be sweet. He was kin to the Seven and had recollection of a past winter; memories of frost giants and their mammoths. They would recognise and welcome him back. His strength would return, he would bring the fight from the north to the Magisters.

  His heart raced and changes took his body. Muscles appeared and developed. Feathers and bone grew from his back. His clothes tore and fell away. Rain beat down on his battered form under the night sky. From the bloody spike, Severin's dead eyes stared down at Travin's transformation.

  Some time later, Travin regained consciousness. He ached. He lay in a pool of rainwater. Cold and hungry. His body was different, he felt strong. He tested his arms and legs, pulled himself up, and stood. He looked up at the sky and let out a howl of rage. Memories flooded his mind and he recalled his fallen angel self; Satkir and Satkir's plan to escape north.

  He lent forwards and opened his wings for the first time. They quivered and felt strong; their power stunned him. He flapped the wings and rose into the air. At first unsteady, clumsy; a fledgling. Then instinct took over and he gained height. A flash of lightening lit the sky, silhouetting his new form. Travin rose and disappeared into the violence of the storm.

  His old life was a distant memory.

  CHAPTER 8

  Creed

  The Magisters gathered around the molten pool. The Creed was all important; it had spoken to them in sighs and whispers. The lava was livid like blood. Black crusts of rock formed when it cooled at the edges. The heat was intense, the air thick with foetid gases. The hooded Magisters walked towards the pool.

  Sorcery protected their skin. Silver scales appeared covering their arms, legs and faces. Their eyes glowed from the depths of their cowls. They followed a woman, her face alabaster, expressionless. She stepped into the molten rock. Her robe disintegrated in flames revealing the scaled body underneath. Her lithe form seemed to rejoice in the grip of the living rock. The others followed, surrounding her in a great circle of flames.

  She held up her arms and lifted her head, a cruel smile flickering across her face. "The Creed is everything. The Creed will lead us to the one truth. We take this Erthe power from the rock and channel it to our will. Our enemies will falter and fail. We will survive and bring all those that stand in our way into thrall."

  The circle of scaled Magisters lifted their arms as one and raised their heads. A low sound came from their throats as they joined in a low chant. The molten rock at their feet flushed in response to their song. The rock spat, bright flecks filled the air sizzling and crackling.

  The woman looked down at the lava flowing around her legs. It reached mid-thigh. She was in a trance. Without warning, she fell into the lava and disappeared beneath the surface; molten bubbles were all that remained. The circle endured unbroken, the chanting continued, becoming stronger. Lava at the centre of the circle pulsated, its colour changing from red to amber to gold.

  A fiery, golden shape exploded from the centre of the circle. The form grew, changing in the oppressive heat. It drew strength and substance from the lava beneath. Its shape became recognisable as a golden winged phoenix. It flapped its fiery wings and rose above the group. The chant soared, becoming a heavy pulse, which filled the air. Erthe magic blossomed, fanned by the phoenix’s flaming wings.

  Hundreds of leagues away in the east, something stirred in the desert night. Beneath the sands, deep in Raven territory, a huge bulk shifted, fed by Magister sorcery. Nearby Raven nomads woke to the shuddering earth. The ground buckled and rose up around them, their tents and fires disappearing down great fissures in the earth.

  Those quick enough ran, grabbing their children. It felt like an attack. This should not be possible; they were secure within their own homeland. Who would dare do this? There was no time to think, only act…or die. Only a handful of nomads escaped the fractured, heaving ground. The moon shone down silver and cold, they looked back not believing their eyes.

  A gigantic head and shoulder of rock had risen from the sand. It was followed by a hulking body possessing huge arms and hands. The rock golem emerged from the desert, tearing itself from the very bedrock. The birthing process was painful; it let out a deep, rumbling roar. Why had it been awoken from its slumber? Who had demanded its presence?

  The Raven survivors fled into the desert night. One man and his daughter managed to harness their camel and flee. The noise of the monstrosity behind them filled the desert air and their hearts. They raced away from the devastation and headed towards the spice route that would bring them to the great Raven capital of Eleanir.

  Behind them, the rock golem stood towering over the desert, green eyes burning deep within its sockets. Anger and rage coursed through its body, it wanted to destroy all the wounded and dying beneath it. It needed to return to the oblivion and peace of its slumber. It looked at its own fingers and hands slowly opening and closing its fists in puzzlement.

  A woman’s voice exploded in the golem's consciousness. "My beauty, welcome back to the light. We have work for you. Once this work is done, you may return to your rest and you will be at peace. Follow my instructions; I will lead you to your task. I want you to go to the Raven city, Eleanir. There you will breech their walls and allow my soldiers in. Then you will do the same to the citadel gates. Once this is done, I promise, my beauty, you will be released. Do this and I will be pleased."

  The golem felt a compulsion to obey the voice. He took his first step and heard his rock legs grind and crunch in response. He nearly fell; it had been so long since his spirit had moved in this form. He managed to steady himself, then moved his other leg. With a great rending his foot broke away from the mother crust below.

  He heard feeble cries as he stepped on the wounded. His strength and balance grew as he marched. It slowly returned to him; the posture, the weight, the poise. He turned his head towards the spice route. Voices whispered directions and soothing promises deep within his head.

  The golem pulled himself up the slope and began scaling the sand dunes that flanked the spice route, west to the city of Eleanir; the heart of the Raven empire.

  The Magisters fell silent. Lava flowed around their leg scales. The flaming phoenix shimmered and disappeared. Moments later the scaled form of a woman emerged from the lava pool.

  "My work is done. The Creed has spoken and the tide will rise against the Raven. Once they have fallen, we can take their power and soon, north, south, east and west will be ours. The Creed will have no boundaries, for the Creed cannot be constrained. The Creed will be free and have absolute reign."

  The other Magisters lowered their arms and embraced their leader. For the briefest of moments, they seemed as one then they separated and withdrew from the molten pool. Their scales vanished; they picked up new robes, each going their own way, departing the chamber through separate doors.

  Their leader stood unmoving, her eyes bright in the reflected glare of the lava. It was only when she was alone that she allowed her guard to slip.

  "I will have revenge my love, I will bring you back from across the divide. We will be united once more and we will rule together. It is just a matter of faith… and the Rhapsody Spell weave."

  She turned and approached her door. Her eyes flicked over the runes in the sequence that would transport her back to Numibar. As she passed through the portal, she did not notice a slight movement in the shadows to her left.

  Calim Dove stepped out from his hiding place. His form was draped in shadow. Connections with the thieves' alliance in Numibar had paid dividends; their cloak of shadows had concealed him well these last few nights; he had been busy.

  He now knew the Magisters’ plans; he would play his part in the tapestry of deceit. He drew the cloak around him and approached his mistress’s door. His eyes scanned the runes in a different pattern and in a heartbeat, he found himself back in his own chambers in Numibar.

  ~

  Luana trudged wearily along the ridge. They had been lucky with the weath
er the last two days. Elias had done a good job in scouting the way; they had even heard from a roving trader that the Towers of Numen were free from plague. The towers were ten leagues from their current position. Their plan was to drop to the coastal plain that led to the towers and then somehow, gain passage to the deeper reaches of the Storm Sea.

  The three Towers of Numen were pure white and built on a small bay on the storm coast. They looked west out to sea and to the east they kept watch on the Jagged Spine Mountains, which marked the boundary between the known lands of the south and frost giant territory to the north. The towers had been built generations ago by master stonemasons and had withstood time and the extreme weather that regularly battered the storm coast.

  The towers were made from marble and were seamless on their seaward side. Life crystals from the Snowy Mountains crowned their tops. The crystals absorbed light by day, releasing it at night, acting as a landmark for ships at sea. Originally, three families had watched over the towers, but now the towers were left, abandoned and empty.

  Every now and then ships would pull into the bay to stock up on fresh water from the river. If they could catch a ride at the towers, that would be their best bet this far north, Luana mused. A flawed plan but the only option, now that plague had claimed Nictiam to the south.

  Different things had occupied Luana's mind. Saphine, her childhood friend was looming large in her heart. Saph, she had fought with, stolen with and survived with on the streets of Numibar. At one point, they had the whole of the narrow section of the city in their hands.

  They knew every lane and doorway of that place. They came out at night, stalking the rooftops of the richer quarters; mostly houses belonging to merchants and traders. They would slip into the shadows barefoot and steal money, jewellery and even food.