Children of Fire

by Drew Karpyshyn

  “Sit down,” she said.

  He obeyed without question, his eyes those of a lost little boy.

  “Haven’t you ever killed anyone before?” she asked sympathetically.

  “I have killed more trespassing humans in these woods than I can count,” the young Danaan had replied in a dull monotone. “Any who work the patrols are intimately familiar with death and killing.

  “But you’ve never had to kill one of your own, have you?”

  He shook his head.

  “Drake was my mentor,” he whispered. “He was my teacher. He was like a father to me.”

  An hour ago the prince had been in high spirits, the prodigal son leading them to the capital of his people. Now he was banished, an outcast with the blood of his mentor on his hands. Scythe knew what it was like to lose everything in a sudden cut of fate’s cruel blade; she knew what it was like to suddenly realize you were alone in the world.

  “You had no choice,” Scythe assured him, hoping at least to ease his guilt. “You were forced into this. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “He couldn’t bring himself to kill me,” the prince said after a long silence. “Even when he attacked me, he was holding back.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked gently, hoping to help him work through this.

  “Drake was the greatest swordsman in the kingdom. His prowess with a blade was legendary. Everything I knew, every move and every counter, I learned from him,” he said slowly, his mind struggling to form coherent thoughts. “I should never have been able to beat him. He let me win. He let himself die rather than kill me. Why? Why would he do that?”

  “Destiny,” Jerrod called out, still poised at the fallen wizard’s side. “Keegan is meant to be our champion, he is meant to have the Ring. Those who oppose us must fall.”

  Scythe shot a wicked glare back over her shoulder at him. The Danaan was in a vulnerable state; his world had just collapsed around him. This was not the time for the monk’s stupid prophecies!

  Fortunately, the Danaan was stronger than she thought.

  “No,” Vaaler said, rising to his feet and turning to face the others. “This wasn’t about destiny. This was about a good man trapped in a terrible situation.”

  He took a deep breath and exhaled, collecting himself before continuing.

  “Drake knew my mother’s command was born from her illness. He knew it was wrong: I could see it in his eyes. But he had been raised all his life to obey the will of the Monarch. Duty was everything to him.

  “He could not disobey her command, even though he knew it was wrong. And he couldn’t bring himself to kill me, either. For him, death was the only honorable way out.”

  “Duty and honor are fine things,” Scythe commented, “but I can’t ever imagine a situation where I’d be willing to die for them.”

  “I can,” Norr said unexpectedly.

  She glanced over at him, but he turned away and couldn’t meet her eye.

  “Is Keegan okay?” Vaaler asked suddenly, noticing for the first time his friend lying on the ground.

  Scythe was relieved. The best cure for one’s own grief and pain was worrying about the well-being of someone else.

  “I’m fine,” came the tremulous reply. “Just a little weak. Summoning the Chaos took more out of me than I thought.”

  “You should know better than to try and cast a spell without invoking the proper enchantments first,” Vaaler said, walking over to crouch down and check on his friend. Jerrod stepped aside wordlessly and let him approach. “Even I learned that much during my apprenticeship.”

  “I figured if I started waving my arms around and chanting strange words those archers would have killed us all.”

  “Of that I have no doubt,” was the grim reply.

  The Danaan extended his hand, and Keegan reached up to grab it. Jerrod swooped in to seize the mage’s other arm and the two of them helped him back to a standing position. He swayed unsteadily but managed to keep his feet by leaning on his staff for support.

  “This changes things,” Jerrod said. “The Danaan know we are coming. We can’t fight our way through a whole army to reach the capital.”

  Vaaler frowned, his brow wrinkled in deep thought.

  “No,” he said at last, “I don’t think they do know. My mother would have tried to keep my banishment secret. She believes our kingdom is teetering on the edge of destruction, and she cares too much about her people to make things worse with a public schism between the Queen and her only heir.”

  “Are you saying nobody else knows?” Jerrod pressed.

  “She sent Drake and his patrol because she knew they could be trusted not to say anything to anyone. She must have wanted to keep it secret even from Andar—the High Sorcerer—or she would have instructed him to send some of his war wizards with Drake.

  “There may be a few among her personal guard who know of her decree,” Vaaler concluded, “but I doubt it is common knowledge, even among the staff of the castle.”

  “Then there is still hope for us,” Jerrod said.

  Vaaler nodded.

  “But if we enter the city together they are sure to report it to her. There hasn’t been a human in Ferlhame since before the Cataclysm.”

  “But you could go in alone. The prince returning to the castle won’t draw any undue attention,” the monk pressed. “You could slip in, seize the Ring, and bring it back to us!”

  “Hasn’t he been through enough already?” Scythe objected, jumping into the conversation.

  “He’s right,” Vaaler said with a shrug in Scythe’s direction. “Drake’s death changes nothing. Keegan still needs the Ring, and I can still get it for him.”

  “Don’t do this,” she pleaded, suddenly certain the plan would be a disaster. “Don’t let all this talk of dreams and prophecies turn you against your own people!”

  “I’m doing this for my people … and for their Queen,” he replied calmly.

  Scythe found something about the prince’s sudden serenity disturbing.

  “I have seen what the Ring has done to my mother,” he explained. “It will destroy her completely unless I do something. This is my only chance to save her.”

  “This goes far beyond your mother’s fate or the borders of the Danaan kingdom,” Jerrod reminded him. “We are on a quest to save the entire world.”

  Scythe didn’t even bother to glare at the monk this time. Vaaler had found a way to deal with his grief; he’d made his choice. And like everything else that had happened since she and Norr had been swept up in this mad quest, there was nothing she could do about it.

  Keegan was worried about his friend. In the hours since the slaughter of the Danaan patrol, Vaaler had spoken little, though the wizard knew him well enough to sense his inner turmoil. But there was little he could say to help the prince cope with everything that had happened.

  Besides, Keegan had problems of his own. He was still weak from summoning the Chaos. He’d been able to draw upon the power of Rexol’s staff in lieu of a charm, but being unable to invoke any kind of incantation to direct the power of his spell, he’d been forced to use himself as a conduit. And while his will was strong enough to withstand the ordeal, the toll on his physical form had been high.

  When they found the horses of the patrol tethered a mile away from the ambush, he had been able to ride without slowing the group down, Rexol’s staff lashed across his back. By the time they stopped for the night, though, he was ready to collapse from his saddle in exhaustion.

  But the weakness of his body wasn’t his primary focus. During the ride, he’d sensed that he had been fundamentally changed by all that had happened. He’d been transformed in some subtle yet meaningful way.

  The Chaos was stronger in him now. That much was undeniable. He had felt it ever since waking from his coma; the force of the magic he had unleashed during the attack only confirmed what he knew to be true. But he had lost something, too.

  The heat of the flames coursed through his
veins, but beyond that he felt little else. Part of him sympathized with Vaaler, but he felt no real grief or sadness. His concern for the prince was strangely muted, as if it were coming to him across a great distance.

  As he mulled over his altered state he realized that even his reaction toward Scythe had been affected. He still knew the Island girl was exotically beautiful, but it stirred up no emotion in him. No lust, no passion, no desire. Nothing. He felt dead inside; empty; hollow. Numb to everything but the ever-present Chaos burning inside him.

  “We’re only a league away from the city, and the Queen might have set up patrols around the perimeter,” Vaaler said once they had finished setting up the camp. “We’ll wait here until nightfall, then I’ll go on alone.”

  Keegan closed his eyes to help himself concentrate, focusing his attention on the strange hyperawareness he had been experiencing ever since waking up in the enchanted forest. Another change, though Keegan suspected this second sight was merely a response to the Chaos that hung like a thick fog in the woods.

  He cast his senses out like a net, searching for signs of the Danaan patrols. He scanned the area around them, inspecting every branch and leaf for a full league in every direction. It took him less than a second.

  “There’s nobody around. Not for miles.”

  “Then we’ll stay with you right up until the edge of the city,” Jerrod said. “Your destiny is tied with Keegan’s now, Vaaler … just like the rest of us. I don’t want to separate the group any longer than we have to.”

  Scythe gave him a strange look but didn’t say anything. The prince just nodded.

  Once it was dark, they broke camp and pressed on until they were within sight of the city’s edge. Keegan sensed their destination long before they actually reached its borders. The magic was strong in the Danaan people, he could feel the pulse of their collective energy coming from the capital. And he could sense the Ring, calling to him. Even so, when they emerged from the obscuring tree line he couldn’t help but be impressed by what he saw.

  Ferlhame had been founded in the center of a large clearing—or perhaps the clearing had been the result of harvesting the trees to create the massive city. In many ways the architecture resembled that of Torian: tall, elegant towers in orderly rows. But the Danaan capital had a more natural feel to it, as if order and symmetry had not been imposed upon the city by regulations and building codes but had evolved organically over the centuries.

  Everything in the city was built not from mortar, stone, or brick but rather wood, furthering the natural aesthetic. To the wizard’s eye the towers and buildings reaching up toward the night sky had obviously been created with magic, the lumber shaped and reinforced by the power of Chaos during the construction so each structure would be as stable and secure as any edifice made of more conventional materials. However, despite the changes wrought by the spells bound into their surface, the buildings were still unmistakably made of wood.

  “No human has looked upon this place since it was founded seven centuries ago,” Vaaler said, his voice so soft Keegan thought he must be speaking to himself. “And now the isolation is broken by a small group of thieves in the night.”

  Keegan wasn’t sure if his friend sounded resentful or just sad.

  “We can go no farther together,” he said more loudly. “I can approach the castle without drawing attention. You humans cannot.”

  “We’ll wait here with the horses for you to bring us the Ring,” Jerrod agreed.

  Scythe laughed.

  “You make it sound so simple. Like he just has to go into the Queen’s jewelry box and pull it out.”

  “It won’t be in any jewelry box,” Vaaler said flatly. “She wears it on a chain around her neck, even while sleeping. She never takes it off.”

  “Even better,” Scythe replied. “You really think she’ll just hand it over to us? After what happened with Drake? Am I the only one who sees how foolish this all is?”

  “I have no choice. The Talisman has taken control of my mother’s mind; it uses her own visions to bind her beneath its spell. Unless I free her from it, she is doomed. We all are.”

  “So how do you plan to get it from her?” Scythe asked. “I’ve lifted my share of necklaces without getting caught, but this isn’t like clipping the chain from an unsuspecting mark in a crowd.”

  When Vaaler didn’t immediately respond she added, “How do you even plan to get close enough to try and steal it? You’ve been banished—remember?”

  “I doubt anyone but Drake and my mother’s personal guards knows anything about that,” he reminded her. “No one will challenge me when I enter the castle.”

  “Okay, so you get inside the castle,” Scythe conceded. “Then what? How are you going to get close enough to the Queen to pull this off?”

  “I know a way,” was all he said.

  Giving up on the young Danaan, she turned to Jerrod. “Even if he succeeds, what are we supposed to do after we get the Ring? Do you even know?”

  “We follow Keegan’s destiny,” the monk replied. “Keegan’s visions will give us guidance when the time is right. For now we must concentrate on the task at hand. Once Keegan has the Ring all will become clear.”

  She threw her hands up in exasperation and spun to face Vaaler again. “Fine, go ahead. We’ll wait here for you. But if you aren’t back by morning, I’m gone.” She cast a quick glance over at Norr. “Even if I have to go alone.”

  “I’ll be back long before that,” Vaaler assured her, before disappearing into the shadows of the nearest building.

  Chapter 51

  It took Vaaler less than an hour to reach the castle gates. He kept his hood up while walking through the streets to hide his face, not wanting to draw any extra attention. Not one of the citizens he passed recognized the heir to the throne. However, once he reached the gates he knew he would have to try a different approach.

  “Who approaches at this hour?” a guard called from within.

  Throwing back his hood he said, “Open the gates. Drake is expecting me to meet back with his patrol before the dawn and I have no time for formalities.”

  It was a plausible lie. He had told himself over and over again that the guards wouldn’t know of his banishment yet. All they would know was that Drake and his patrol had left suddenly on an urgent errand. It would make sense that the Queen’s son should also be involved in this mysterious business. But these constant reassurances couldn’t keep his heart from pounding. If he was wrong—if they knew the truth—they would seize him and throw him in the dungeons … if they didn’t just kill him.

  He heard the sharp twang of a bow being fired and flinched, then realized it had only been the creaking of the gates hinges as one of the guards opened it up to let him in. The men on watch saluted him and he returned the gesture in kind without even thinking.

  “Her Majesty is asleep,” one of the guards informed him. “Shall I send a request that one of her attendants wake her, my prince?”

  “No time,” he replied with a shake of his head. “And no need. Tomorrow, tell her I was here. Tell her I met up with Drake. She will understand.”

  The guard saluted again and Vaaler turned away, disappearing into the castle’s halls. He made his way toward the eastern wing, the seat of the administrative branch of the city’s government. Here in the various rooms and chambers the daily business of running the kingdom was conducted. During the day it would have been bustling with functionaries ranging from pages and low-level clerks all the way through to the various ministers, including the High Sorcerer. However, at this time of night the place was completely deserted.

  He reached the council chambers and found them empty, just as he had been hoping. He glanced around again to make sure nobody was around then began to feel along the edges of the large tapestry set into the far wall behind the Queen’s seat. The tapestry had been sewn to a thick wooden frame, and the frame itself had been set into the bricks and stones of the castle wall.

  He picke
d and worried at the edges of the frame and the seams of the stitching until he was able to pop a few threads loose and work his fingers through to the other side. Then he gripped the tapestry and tore it loose, revealing a small, dark tunnel behind.

  Almost every room in the eastern wing had such a tapestry, and behind every tapestry was a long-forgotten tunnel. Vaaler suspected they had once been used to keep tabs on the various branches of government operating within the castle walls. Agents working for the ruling Monarch could spy on any of the ministers and civil servants—there were even tunnels running to and from each of the private rooms of the royal family. But whoever had ordered their construction had also managed to keep them very, very secret. As far as the prince knew nobody was aware of their existence anymore, not even the Queen herself.

  Vaaler couldn’t remember how he had discovered the castle’s network of hidden passages, but he had used them often as a child. Sometimes he had even crept carefully from his bedchamber through the winding tunnels only to stop at this very room, where he had sat safely out of sight in the hidden alcove behind the heavy tapestry and eavesdropped on his mother and her council. Other times he had crawled to the tapestry of his mother’s room, frightened but curious, drawn by her cries and screams as she had suffered through one of her terrible visions.

  He had always considered the tunnels to be something special and private; something that had helped make up for the fact that he had been born blind to the Sight. It had been his secret and his alone. One he had carefully guarded.

  His secret wouldn’t last much longer. In the morning someone was sure to notice the tapestry on the floor and the rather obvious opening behind it, but Vaaler planned to be far away from the castle by then.

  Taking a deep breath he stepped into the darkness, the familiar musty smell of the air inside stirring up the memories of all the time he had spent in the dark maze of passages as a little boy. He was a grown man now, and he had to crouch down to avoid the low ceiling. By the time he had gone twenty feet in it was black as pitch and he was forced to move by shuffling slowly forward, feeling with his hand along the wall to guide him. Fortunately, he knew the tunnels well enough to navigate them even in total darkness.