Thorne Grey and the City of Darkness

by Farrell Keeling

  An odd whirring sound and Thorne jumped back in surprise, as the wall vibrated slightly, releasing a cloud of dust. It began to move back and slowly shift aside, revealing a glow of light.

  Once the gap was wide enough to squint through, Thorne could see the back of something. He squinted and quickly realised that it was a throne, the same one in which Xalem had sat. The passage led to the Hall of Light!

  He shivered, feeling the bite of a cold wind on the back his neck. He glanced behind him seeing the glow of torches down the stairs extinguishing quickly.

  Thorne pushed the slab of the wall, but it refused to move any faster. Only a few more centimetres and he could escape!

  ‘Coming for you,’ the cold air behind him whispered.

  The pair of torches behind him extinguished, immersing the staircase in complete darkness. Thorne backed against the wall and closed his eyes, praying that his end would be quick.

  CA-CHUNK!

  Thorne fell backwards through the open section of the wall, tumbling painfully to the floor with a grunt. Quickly gripping the throne, he pulled himself to his feet and began sprinting again towards the towering open doors and the safety of the city beyond. He was almost there, he could virtually feel the air on his face.

  A dark shape flew past him and the doors slammed shut. Thorne carried on running to the doors, slamming his fists but to no avail against the thick wood. He slumped to his knees and banged the back of his head against the doors in defeat. So, this was it, this was all his journey had amounted to. This was the end.

  Thorne was filled with a familiar sense of dread, as the flames of each mounted brazier and candle was extinguished, one after one, in rapid succession. The entire hall was now immersed in darkness. Again.

  ‘Gods… help me, please,’ Thorne muttered under his breath, knowing that no such help would arrive this time.

  Thorne took a deep breath and held up his hand. He snapped his fingers, the spark creating a weak flame in the palm of his hand, illuminating a small circle around him. And, sickeningly, the face of the Steward, right in front of him.

  Thorne did not scream, but he felt the blood drain from his face and his hand began to shake.

  ‘Boo!’ the Steward cackled, before blowing out the flame.

  Thorne felt the vampire grab the front of his robes, before launching him into the air. He fell heavily, sliding across the floor, his head colliding with one of the legs of the throne. Lights danced in front of his eyes.

  Another cold, mirthless cackle. He heard the footsteps of the Steward echoing around the room, but it was impossible to tell from where.

  ‘It has been so long!’ Xalem chuckled, ‘so long!’

  Thorne turned his head from left to right and back again. It was as though the man’s voice was coming from everywhere at once.

  ‘What should I do, I wonder? Kill you now? Quickly? Or slowly? Choices, choices!’

  A rush of wind and Thorne could feel the man’s icy breath on his neck. ‘So many choices,’ he whispered, ‘but it’s so hard to resist… I can hear your blood calling to me, begging me to taste its delights. Perhaps I should indulge myself now just this once–’

  BANG!

  The Steward disappeared with a gust of wind.

  BANG!

  ‘Who dares disturb me!’ Xalem growled, ‘who dares!’

  A door flew open, light flooding inside the hall and two figures burst in. Torches held in their hands.

  Hoods obscured their faces, but Thorne instantly recognised one of them, dark hair spilling out the man’s hood and across his chest.

  ‘Zaine!’ Thorne cried in delight.

  The Hunter turned towards him and drew back his hood, as did his companion, long blond hair falling across her shoulders. Thorne realising with surprise that it was the Regal – Illumina.

  ‘Thorne stay where you are!’ Zaine commanded, drawing his sword.

  ‘So, you have provided me with a feast. Thorne,’ the Steward chuckled, ‘how touching!’

  The Steward launched himself at the pair. Shadows whipping through the air. Before he could watch the ensuing fight, Thorne’s vision suddenly turned white. And, again, the light faded onto a different scene.

  His eyes were fixed on three men, one of which lay on the floor. Thorne recognised him instantly by his bright golden armour, Fierslaken.

  ‘Vigil,’ Thorne said weakly, ‘what’s going on?’

  ‘There is something I must show you.’

  The warrior lay unmoving, oblivious to the two men who stood either side of him. They were talking so discretely, Thorne had trouble discerning what they were saying.

  The man to Fierslaken’s left, Thorne recognised as the Steward, Xalem. He had a bored expression on his face and his fingers drummed impatiently on his arms.

  ‘So, you wish me to use the artefact to imprison his soul?’ Xalem asked.

  ‘His soul only, nothing else vampire,’ the other man growled. He was a balding man with a squashed sort of face, and a thick brown moustache that drooped down the side of his face. Thorne noticed, with surprise, the sparks of a Majik Master.

  ‘The soul?’ Xalem repeated.

  ‘Yes. We will keep the body’ the man replied.

  ‘And what will you do with his body?’ Xalem said, with hunger in his eyes.

  ‘Burn it, we needed the information, not the man.’

  ‘He would not reveal the Old Ones location?’

  ‘No. Evidently taking his own life was a more appealing option. A waste but no matter.’

  ‘Do you seriously believe he will decide to give up this information while he’s in the painting?’ Xalem said with a sneer.

  ‘Perhaps not, but it is my people’s only hope.’

  Xalem narrowed his eyes, unfolded his arms and shrugged, ‘very well then. And the city?’

  ‘It shall be yours, as you asked,’ the man replied, adding darkly, ‘providing you control your thirst.’

  Xalem’s lip curled and then he turned back towards the golden armoured warrior that lay before him.

  White light blazed across his eyes and Thorne was thrown back into the normal world. He gasped, breathing in and out deeply.

  ‘Woah,’ Thorne muttered.

  Bam!

  Thorne’s eyes darted upwards, seeing the limp form of Illumina slide across the floor to the wall.

  ‘Illumina!’ Thorne gasped, jumping to his feet and dashing to the Regal’s side.

  ‘Ah Thorne!’ the vampire chuckled, ‘glad you could join us! Once I’ve finished with the Hunter, I can thank you personally!’

  Zaine leapt forward plunging his sword into a cloud of shadow. The vampire had disappeared. The Hunter rushed towards Thorne and grasped his shoulder.

  ‘Are you alright?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’m… I’m–’

  ‘You’re what?’ Zaine said, glancing around them.

  Thorne looked up into the Hunter’s eyes, ‘I saw Fierslaken… I saw a Majik Master… my people… they made an agreement with that… that thing.’

  Zaine’s mouth thinned, but he did not stop Thorne mid-speech. If anything, he appeared to encourage Thorne to continue.

  ‘But earlier I saw him Zaine! He was alive! Or at least he seemed to be… He said I was the Phoenix… what did he mean?’

  Zaine laughed, albeit haggardly, ‘of course, it makes sense now.’

  ‘What does? What about any of this does?’

  ‘Don’t you see Thorne? You’ve been given a gift! You’re the Phoenix now!’

  ‘I have shown you the path, Thorne. You must choose to take it.’ Vigil spoke.

  Upon the words being said, a flash of images burned across Thorne’s mind. Two men crouched together on the floor of a small house. One of them held a baby. The other, he realized with surprise, was a Warlock. Not only a Warlock, but Master Farholm, albeit much younger.

  ‘This one is special,’ Farholm said, his eyes fixed upon the child.

  ‘Your name is Thorne Grey.’ />
  His vision disappearing in a cascade of flames, Thorne returned to the world, his knees collapsing beneath him. He was the Phoenix.

  ‘Thorne, breathe, the vampire will be back. We need to go!’

  A flash of shadow, and Xalem was flying across the air towards them, fangs arching against the corners of his mouth.

  And then Thorne understood.

  Thorne got to his feet, feeling sudden waves of Majik rushing through him. Now tapping freely into seemingly limitless reserves he thrust his right arm forward and a bolt of pure flame burst from his open palm, slamming into the vampire and sending him flying across the room. The vampire held out his arms like a pair of wings, slowing his descent and then furiously patted against the embers burning on his chest.

  Unrelenting, Thorne cast fine streams of white flame, like molten iron, from both his hands, binding the vampire in coils of fire. Thorne raised his hands upwards, in a rapid motion, sending Xalem flying into a chandelier on the ceiling. Then, bringing his hands rapidly down, Thorne slammed the vampire onto the floor; the chandelier following and falling on top of Xalem, with a crash.

  With a primal scream, the vampire leapt to its feet, grabbed the remains of the chandelier, and hurled it at Thorne. Thorne pushed his hands out in front of him, palms up, and a wall of dense flame erupted from the ground. Each piece of the chandelier disintegrated before it could reach him.

  ‘This is impossible!’ Xalem said, staring at Thorne, ‘Fierslaken is dead. The line of the Phoenix is dead!’

  The vampire whipped his hand in the air and a shadowy tendril smacked against Thorne’s chest, throwing him through the air towards the wall. Thorne threw his arms out sideways, cast a wave of flame; slowing the impact against the stone. Dazed and winded but alive, Thorne stumbled to his feet.

  ‘Now, you die!’ the vampire screamed, hurling tendril after tendril in Thorne’s direction.

  But Thorne was ready this time. With a sweep of both hands, flames enveloped and consumed the shadows, their remains fluttering to the ground like ash.

  Thorne clapped his hands, and in a burst of flame, he suddenly appeared next to the Steward. Before the stunned vampire could move, Thorne seized his arm and hurled him, as if he were a small rock, into one of the large doors. The force of the impact left a large dent in the wood and the vampire sprawled on the ground.

  Xalem pushed himself to his feet, as Thorne approached, and launched a fistful of shadows at him. Thorne waved his hand once and the shadows were engulfed in flames.

  ‘Enough!’ Xalem screamed.

  More shadows spiralled around the Vampire’s arms but, instead of launching them at Thorne, Xalem directed the darkness at the door behind him. With a bang, both doors blew off their hinges and moonlight flooded into the Hall. A hoard of skeletons burst past the cackling vampire, their bones scraping and screeching across the floor. The vampire’s cold laughter echoing across the walls.

  Thorne glanced at Zaine, and then turned to where Illumina lay.

  ‘Keep them away from her!’ Thorne bellowed.

  Zaine nodded, his sword smashing a skeleton’s skull, as it ran towards the Regal’s body.

  The vampire narrowed its eyes at Thorne, then sprinted out the Hall. Thorne caught the vampire before he could set one foot into the night, and sent him flying into the door again, with such force the wood cracked from top to bottom. The vampire crumpled to the ground. Thorne crouched, placing his fists on the cold marble, his eyes fixed on the centre of the cracked door. Cracks in the marble slabs spread from Thorne’s fists, which had started to glow a brilliant white. The cracked door shook and began to form multiple fissures, spreading from the centre. Then, with a deafening CRACK, it collapsed. The vampire didn’t even have time to scream, before massive slabs of wood collapsed on top of him.

  Their master defeated, the skeletons paused in unison. Without warning, bones dislocated and collapsed, crumbling to the ground.

  Thorne sighed and walked over to the crumbled remains of the door. Thorne was amazed to see that, somehow, the vampire had survived, its head jutting out behind a slab of wood, struggling and failing to prise it away.

  Thorne’s hands became alive with fire.

  ‘No! Wait!’ Xalem pleaded when he noticed Thorne.

  ‘Why?’ demanded Thorne.

  ‘If I’m going to burn, then so should he,’ he spat.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Watch,’ the vampire cackled.

  He took a deep breath and then suddenly he was seeing a room, as though from the vampire’s eyes.

  The man in front of him wore a black hooded robe and had an aura of command about him. Indeed, there was something familiar about him that Thorne couldn’t quite place.

  ‘Your hood, remove it,’ he heard Xalem say.

  The man’s hands reached for his hood, pulling it down to reveal his face and the sparks of his white toga underneath the robe.

  ‘Ah. So, it all makes sense now, Warlock,’ the vampire said.

  ‘No,’ the man replied curtly, ‘call me Master. Master Vey.’

  The scene faded and Thorne found himself sitting face level with the sneering vampire lord.

  ‘The Shadow is one of us?’ Thorne whispered, shaking his head.

  ‘Of course! So you see, child,’ Xalem said, ‘even your own kind conspires against you!’

  Thorne stared at the vampire in shocked silence. ‘They’ve known I’ve been here all along!’ Xalem said, continuing bitterly ‘but it seems they were playing the both of us.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Teeth thick with blood, the Vampire grinned, ‘they knew what you were from the start. Why do you think you, a mere child, were sent here? Looks like I won’t be the only one meeting a sticky end.’

  Thorne saw the dark tendril just in time and dived out of the way, as it lashed out at him from under a wooden slab. Thorne leapt forward, placing his hands firmly on top of the Xalem’s head, and letting the Majik flow through his fingertips and explode into the vampire’s body.

  Xalem screamed, his eyes and mouth alight with fire. The vampire rose in the air, arms and legs spread out. Beams of light perforated the vampire’s pale skin, illuminating the entire entrance to the Hall. Then with one pitiful shriek, he exploded in a shower of shadowy sparks.

  *

  ‘Thorne, I–’

  ‘For the last time, Zaine, I don’t have time to explain... I need to get back to Dalmarra and… I need to take care of something.’

  Zaine opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself and moved aside.

  ‘Thanks,’ Thorne muttered.

  Zaine didn’t reply, shaking his head solemnly as he watched the Warlock stride away. He had changed, it was not just how he acted, the Hunter could see it in his walk as well – how he carried himself with such solemnity, as though he now bore such a terrible burden.

  ‘So, the Phoenix has returned,’ Zaine murmured to himself.

  Illumina watched Thorne silently, as he clambered down the stairs to the town, and right up to the moment he disappeared within the crowd that thronged the streets.

  People stared and pointed at the wrecked entrance to the Hall of Lights. Murmurs slipped from a mass of lips, the air now heavy with rumours. It would not be long before the land was awash with tales.

  Chapter 26

  He paused, his hand brushing against the marble handle of the door and listened. Thorne could hear the rustle of pages and the sound of a man humming. Thorne took a deep breath, twisted the handle and pushed open the door. The man inside spun sharply as he approached, mouth agape, the piece of parchment he held slipping through his fingers.

  ‘Thorne?’ said Master Vey.

  ‘Master Vey,’ Thorne replied coldly.

  Vey frowned, shook his head and then returned to sifting through piles of parchment.

  ‘I assume your return heralds the dismantling of the dark point?’ Vey muttered.

  ‘Yes, that is correct,’ Thorne replied.


  Vey dropped the parchment he was holding and turned to face him, his arms crossed by his side as his eyes scrutinized Thorne.

  ‘So, he gave you his power?’ Vey sighed.

  ‘Fierslaken?’ Thorne replied, ‘No, I’m pretty sure I always had it, he simply… made me more aware of it.’

  ‘Marvellous, another Phoenix to contend with,’ Vey snorted, ‘then I imagine you know everything now.’

  ‘You never even bothered to tell me, why?’ Thorne demanded, ‘were you scared? Why didn’t you just kill me before I left?’

  ‘We didn’t fear you! Or wish your death!’ Vey said, tugging uncomfortably at his collar, ‘we had no choice! The fate of our order – the very world – was on the line!’

  Thorne narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, ‘what do you mean?’

  Vey sighed, ran his hands through his hair and took a step towards the window. ‘Majik is leaving this world, it’s hard to admit it, and even harder to know why, but it’s happening nonetheless.’

  ‘What does that have to do with anything?’

  ‘Don’t you see Thorne?’ Vey span round, hands closed together, imploring Thorne, ‘we’re becoming irrelevant. Everything about us revolves around Majik! And what is this land without us to protect it?’

  ‘And for that you thought it would be a good idea to sacrifice us both?’

  ‘You survived, did you not?’ Vey scoffed, ‘as for Rozenhall, well, he should have known better than to risk the Silent Forests.’

  With that, Vey made a move for the door.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Thorne inquired, putting a hand out before the Majik Master could go past him.

  ‘I have business elsewhere, as I imagine you do as well.’

  Thorne bent his head in closer so that the tip of his nose was a few inches away from the man’s face. ‘It’s time to lift away these lies,’ he whispered, ‘I know who you are, Shadow.’

  Thorne backed away, but not before hearing an intake of breath from the Majik Master and a sad sigh.

  ‘Meddling in matters of our order is one thing,’ he said, ‘meddling in mine is a different thing entirely.’

  ‘I just got back after burning your vampire to ashes, I’m not in the mood for threats,’ Thorne said quietly.