by James Duvall
Joshua started toward the sound, a vague sense of dread creeping into his mind like the coming frost. Something felt unnatural about the place he was in, something beyond the strange nature of his arrival. There was no snow-laden sidewalks, no apartment, no gloomy winter sky, no sign of Tarus or Brian.
The shouts were growing louder now, the voices more distinct.
“That won't hold for long!” someone shouted urgently, his voice near panic. “Do it now!”
“I'm tryin'!” a low voice shouted back.
“Now!”
A soft whistle cut through the air. It zipped past Joshua so quickly that the quarrel looked like a shimmering black blur until it skidded and bounced along the ground like a rabbit running for its life. Near the end of its journey it bounced off a small rock, arched a foot or so into the air, and then dropped point first into the ground at the foot of a tree. The quarrel exploded in fiery glory, sending Joshua scrambling for cover beneath a hailstorm of rock and splintered wood. The tree shuddered, rotating sluggishly as it started to fall. Joshua ran, angling himself away from the tree's base and eventual destination. He was saved only by the good graces of the forest's own density, slowing the fall and redirecting the tree until it came to a stop on the ground near two other evergreens, both ruined beneath the first.
“There's someone over there! Watch your aim!”
Joshua was closer to them now, his hands trembling, eyes wide and searching with unnatural rapidity. Adrenaline pounded through his veins like a rock concert on fire at the end of the world. He could hear the quarrel's explosion reverberating off distant hills, a high whine rising above the tumult in his head. The voices around him came muffled and distant. He took cover behind a large heap of rocks, placing it between himself and the source of the quarrels. The world seemed to move so slowly around him.
“Kid! Get out of the way!” Joshua could see him now. He was a tall, skinny man with a hooked nose and clad head to toe in dark leather armor.
“Stay away from it!” another man warned, also in armor. He was much larger than his companion and had a club with cruel metal spikes all along it. With an outstretched arm, he pointed the crude weapon at the Joshua.
Joshua wheeled around, searching. “From what?” Then his aegis of protection shifted, the land rising up, leaving him on unsteady, trembling ground. As the creature rose it turned, facing him.
Ah, that's what he was pointing at.
Joshua barely took notice of the lumbering body, instead finding himself transfixed upon the monster's face. It had no eyes, only two cavernous hollows with pupils of red fire glaring down at him in hatred. Joshua stumbled back in shock, one hand reaching to ward off the monster as the other groped behind him for a rock or a stick or something, anything, to throw. A quarrel whistled through the air. Joshua threw himself to the ground, covering his head. This one was much closer than the last, the sound of its impact reverberating through the forest like the crack of a rifle. Bits of rock and dust scattered over him, biting into his skin like wind-driven sand. Fiery heat washed over him like the desert sun. He started on his hands and knees, scrambling forward over uneven and smoking earth.
From behind a tree he could see clubman running toward him and the monster. The club-wielding man interposed himself between Joshua and the monster with only the grisly club to ward off the stone creature. The hook-nosed man let another quarrel fly. This one took the creature's leg off, bursting in another shower of debris. It toppled, bracing itself with an outstretched arm to keep from going all the way to the ground.
The clubman lunged onto it, bashing an arm off with a high, arching swing. The other arm followed with practiced efficiency. The downed monster struggled, growling low and long. Clubman threw his weapon aside, catching a pickaxe thrown to him by Hook-nose. He attacked with a savage fury, hard and fast and without hesitation. Rock shattered beneath every jackhammer blow.
The hook-nosed man came to watch, standing only a few feet away with his crossbow pointed at the ground.
“Come on out, kid, it's good as dead.”
The monster did not move again until the clubman knelt down and pried something from its chest. It twitched once and then unceremoniously fell apart. The rocks settled in a loose heap on the grass, rolling around a little as whatever force that had been holding them together simply let go and let gravity do its work. Joshua found himself feeling just a little bit better seeing it happen; this was the normal behavior for rocks.
Clubman stepped down, panting and sweating. For the moment his prize and his weapon were forgotten in the grass. The ruby, if it was a ruby, was the size of a man's fist and easily the biggest gemstone Joshua had ever seen. It was glowing when first pried it loose, but the light faded quickly.
“Whoo! That was a big one!” Clubman proclaimed. He stripped off his breastplate and fell back into the cool grass, staring up at the sky with a look of simple satisfaction on his face.
“That was... uh... yeah it was big,” Joshua agreed numbly, realizing he had no idea what to compare it to, whatever it was.
“What're you doin' out here, kid?” the hook-nosed man asked. “This isn't a safe place. Ain't civilized out here on the Banidan front.”
“He don't have a weapon,” the man on the ground said.
“Yeah, he don't...” his companion agreed, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Start talking, kid. “Are you with Silverwind? You don't look like a mage to me but you're certainly dressed like an imbecile, so it's hard to say.”
The big man stood up, retrieving his club. He didn't even look angry but at his size it was an effective enough strategy; already Joshua felt compelled to talk.
“No, no I'm just lost. I don't know any Silver-whatever's. I'm trying to get a... what was it called... I'm from Ashcrest. Have you heard of Ashcrest?”
Puzzled expressions told him they had not.
The hook-nosed man scowled. “What do you think, Hoggs?” he asked, looking up at his towering companion.
“Doesn't have a weapon. Looks scared out of his head. I think he's a mage. Never seen clothes like those before... Mages wear funny things.” He nodded with a satisfied smile, as though this logic were unassailable.
The clothes he was referring to were Joshua's denim jeans and a gray sweatshirt that said Northwoods University in fading red letters.
“I'm Joshua Woods. I'm not a mage. I'm on a mission. I'm supposed to find a charging focus, to run a portal. Do you know where I can get one?”
“Yeah?” Hoggs asked. “Where's Ashes Crest?”
Joshua struggled for an answer, but found any explanation hard to begin and unlikely to find purchase. “It's... uh...”
“Joshua was it?” the hook-nosed man asked. “I'm Lieutenant Thacker. This good ol' fellow is Hoggs. Now, what are you doing out here?”
“I'm from Ashcrest, he answered. “We're sort of like... a colony... I need to get back, and I need to take a charging focus with me.”
“Never heard of the place. Sorry, kid,” Thacker said, and shrugged. A brief glimmer of sympathy sparked in his eyes and faded just as quickly, putting Joshua ill-at-ease. “You're in Arcamyn. A good day's hike from Tavyn. Which I imagine you've never heard of. Does that about sum it up?”
“I haven't,” Joshua agreed. He dug into his pocket and fished out the silver coin. It felt good to know it was still there. It occurred to him that it might very well be his only way back.
“Let me see that,” Thacker barked, holding out his hand, palm up. “Is that how you got here?”
Joshua eyed Thacker warily, wishing he'd had the foresight to keep such a valuable item hidden. “I'll want it back...” he said, carefully, then handed it over.
“How did you know it brought me here?”
Thacker held it up to the light, turning it slowly betwixt two fingers. The lion sparkled brilliantly, casting soft blue light onto the man's armor. “This is the top of an anchor stone,” he explained with the easy authority of a man who had seen much of his wo
rld. “Important for teleportation.”
“Yeah, that's about what I figured,” Joshua answered. “I will be needing it back...”
Thacker arched his brow, chuckling. “This thing yanked you halfway from somewhere to nowhere and you want it back? Maybe you're as crazy as you look.”
Thacker tossed the coin back and Joshua quickly stuffed it back into his pocket, out of sight but still well in mind.
“Keep it,” Thacker said. “I don't want it anywhere near me. Wretched magical thing. With my luck I'd end up in the Cold. With your luck... well you'll probably end up there too. Where were you tryin' for anyhow?”
“Camden or Andrlossen.”
“Camden or Andrlossen?” Thacker asked. “Now those are places I have heard of.”
Joshua heaved a sigh of relief, feeling tension flow out of his shoulders. Finally! Common ground!
“What now, Thacker?” Hoggs asked.
“We'll take him with us,” Thacker said, then looked to Joshua. “You're lucky we found you kid. Not a good place to be after dark. Not a good place to be when it's light.”
“Better than the Cold...” Hoggs offered.
“Marginally,” Thacker grumbled.
“So, you can get me to one of those places?” Joshua asked.
Thacker shrugged noncommittally. “We'll see about it. No promises though. Now let's move.” Before Joshua could think to protest, Thacker was on the move and Hoggs was not far behind.
Joshua followed them down a well-worn path, not eager to be left behind. “So what was that... that thing?”
“So golems,” Hoggs began, “are big giants made of rock, with fire for eyes and fists the size of boulders.”
“Another wonderful invention of the mages,” Thacker said with a sneer of contempt. “And of course their fists are the size of boulders. They are boulders.”
Thacker spat on the road, then continued. “They were for farming, mining, that sort of thing. Useful enough for a while. But then things went wrong – like everything the mages come up with. They hadn’t thought it through at all. They worked fine for a few months, just long enough for them to become widespread. Then the memory started to go. They’d march straight through a farmhouse rather than go around it. So the whole lot of them got drug down to Naveria here and dumped to rot. One too many buildings stomped into little piles of rubble I guess, or maybe only the wrong person's house. Not that the mages care.”
“So, you go out and find them?” Joshua asked. He studied a few loose rocks along the path, wondering if these had once been part of a similar monstrosity.
“Yeah, that's where we come in,” Thacker said, quieter by then. “Stone's got a way of lasting.”
For a moment there was only the quiet sound of boots trudging through the underbrush. Thacker had a faraway look in his eyes when at last he spoke again. “How many of them are there, Hoggs?”
Hoggs answered in a heavy voice. “One less.”
The day dragged on with no sign of further golems. Darkness slowly enveloped the forest until Joshua could barely see Thacker only a few paces ahead. Whenever Joshua's strength would flag, Hoggs would urge him forward. The first sign of Fort Lockworth, a ragged cloth tent, badly leaning, gave Joshua some respite from his aching feet. Tents and campfires haphazardly dotted the landscape, all resting in the shadow of a fortress and its walls. Only half built, its monolithic towers jutted into the evening sky like jagged stone spears.
“Wait here,” Thacker instructed with a tone that brooked no argument. “Hoggs, make sure he doesn't wander off.”
The restraint was unnecessary; Joshua had no intention of leaving the only people he knew and losing himself in the malaise of tents. Ryvarra's moon had captured his attention. He was vaguely aware that something was different about it when the day had first started to close, but beneath the cover of the trees he thought it had to be some sort of trick of the light or perhaps the exhaustion he could still feel gnawing at his senses. The trees surrounding Fort Lockworth had all been felled and put to use toward its construction, affording him his first clear view. A luminous sapphire orb dominated the night sky, bathing the fortress and the campground in silver-blue light. Joshua could only gape at it as he struggled to come to grips with this newest slight against reality. He barely heard Thacker leave and would have missed his return also, had it not been for Hoggs' heavy hand landing on his shoulder.
“Tent's this way.”
“We're taking you to Tavyn tomorrow,” Thacker explained. “The mages will probably want to work out how you got here. Then, if you're lucky, they'll find a way to send you back.”
Sleep came with great difficulty. The hard ground provided an unwelcoming bed to his sore muscles and every time his eyes opened, even for a moment, he could see the soft blue glow of the otherworldly moon through the canvas. Ryvarra's moon. Not Earth's moon. It was hard to grasp and the thought kept him awake. He felt like he had traveled only a few feet but somehow he had come out in another world.
Abandoning the effort, Joshua emerged from the tent and into the bracing night air. He found a place to sit on a log by a barely-burning fire. Hoggs was still awake, or perhaps he too couldn't sleep.
“Hey,” Joshua said, giving him a tired wave.
“Feeling okay?” Hoggs asked. “It was a long march for someone what ain't used to it.”
“I can't remember the last time my legs were this sore,” Joshua admitted, stretching them. “I'll be alright though.”
“Medic can cook up a potion for you if you need it,” Hoggs offered.
For a brief, insane moment, Joshua almost accepted, if only to see what might be produced. Only the hazard of being expected to actually drink some strange concoction kept his curiosity at bay. Instead he found some solace studying his father's coin. It had brought him here; it could get him home.
“Still got that bit of anchor stone?” Hoggs asked.
“Yeah. My dad... It was my dad's.”
A sound like rolling thunder came across the camp, bringing a quiet stillness in its wake. Here and there soldiers abandoned hushed conversations and turned their gazes toward the south. Another roll of thunder, the sound of breaking trees. High on the fortress wall someone shouted.
“What's that...?” Hoggs asked, his voice hushed.
Men shouted from the distant walls. A horn sounded, long and deep. Soldiers came running out of tents half-dressed, scrambling for armor and weapons. The south wall shook, stone crashing against stone. A few heartbeats of silence and then the massive wall shuddered again, stones tumbling down along jagged cracks that coughed dust with every successive slam. Then it happened, the wall surrendered, tipping precariously and then breaking into several large chunks that all came tumbling down in a slowly building roar, drowning out the shouts of officers and screams of dying men.
Dozens of pairs of glowing, flame-lit eyes peered in through the gap. Golems began to clamber through, tearing at the walls and heaving rubble at fleeing soldiers. Joshua stood, frozen. He didn't have a weapon, but even if he did he wasn't convinced he could bring any real threat to this army of giant monsters.
Thacker spun him by the shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. “We have to go. Fort ain't going to hold.”
Hoggs balked. “But... the others?” He had already found his weapon and pulled on his jerkin.
“Captain's orders,” Thacker said, holding up a bag of missives. “Someone's gotta tell the tale.”
“But...”
“Move!”
Chapter 6
The Philosopher of Ashes
Naveria Forest, Arcamyn
When the magus awoke, he found he had only a candle to light his way and the world about him was utterly changed, grown cold and dark as the grave.
Ashes fell like snow from a gray and gloomy sky. The air was warm and wet, warmer than it had any right to be for the early autumn. There were few leaves left of any color. The trees in this part of Arcamyn were reduced to jagged black sticks, the bar
e bones of a forest charred to its core.
Rickthicket picked his way carefully through the ashen desolation. For three days Naveria Forest had been burning and every living thing with sense and the strength to do so had long since fled. Ash covered Rickthicket's clothes, soiling his bright red hat and cloak with a dull gray that matched his fur. This was a good thing, he reasoned, as it made him more readily blend with the ashy ground. He was a mouse and though he was much larger than the ordinary field mouse, falcons were not known to be discerning.
Rickthicket's destination was a clearing over a hundred yards across, forged anew from what had once been a lush, high altitude canopy thick with pine. Smoke poured eternally from furrows made by claws and deep pits gouged into the land by an even greater force than those. The trees were reduced to little chunks of broken wood here and there, burnt and crushed and broken like the flotsam of a shipwreck, left to sink into a tumultuous sea of chewed up earth and ash.
Near the center a dragon lay on his back, dead. A stone spire jutted out of its unbreathing chest like a knight's lance. Though he had perished days before, his glassy yellow eyes were fixed forever in hatred on his long-vanished killer.
The dragon's body was missing many scales. Dark, burnt blood marred the pattern of oranges and reds. One wing looked broken, bent at an impossible angle. Ash, earth, and blood sullied the lifeless sails.
By his boxy muzzle and mountainous stature, Rickthicket judged the dragon to be a guardian. The red's muzzle was curved on the corners and shorter in comparison to the rest of his gargantuan body than most breeds. There was the size, too, of course. Rickthicket had heard of slayers that had grown quite large, but this would have been beyond exceptional for that sort. Indeed, the dead guardian was so large that Rickthicket nearly overlooked the night slayer standing on the other side of him, peering down at the mortal wound with a face placid in deep contemplation.
Carefully Rickthicket made his way around the perimeter of the battlefield, trying to get a closer look at the dragons without being seen. Normally a mouse would not do this, of course, but Rickthicket was on a mission and that meant facing things he would rather not. This was what it meant to be a Silverwind mage, and he was unwilling to go back to being anything else, anything less.