‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Though of course they’re not candles.’
‘What are they?’ Lorenz asked.
‘I wish I knew,’ Araddh admitted. He tutted. ‘I know we wizards have a reputation for wisdom, but we don’t know everything.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Lorenz whispered to Karra.
‘Life would be very boring if one knew everything,’ Araddh went on. ‘There’d be no point getting up in the morning, would there?’
‘Gold, jewels,’ Kveldulf suggested. ‘Those are worth getting up for.’
‘For you, maybe.’ Araddh led us through a maze of open rooms, occasionally requesting or handing me a scroll or piece of impedimenta. Eventually we came to a wider central hall with a sunken floor. A large stone hatch cover was in the centre of the depression. ‘All the researches I’ve conducted over the last six moons have led me to conclude that this vault contains a treasure worth getting up for: the sands of time themselves.’
‘The what?’
‘Gold dust, silver, platinum, and more,’ Araddh said. ‘They were stored for use in horological devices, such as timers, by the greatest chronomancers of the lost age.’ He turned to me. ‘Have you prepared the spells I instructed you about?’ I nodded and handed him the appropriate scrolls.
‘The lock will only open at certain times, but we have no way to know what those times are,’ I told the others. ‘Master Araddh has prepared a means to trick the wards into releasing.’ As I spoke, Araddh was incanting, and placing little cogs and gears in the air at the appropriate points. As always, it was a joy to watch him work, and I felt honoured to be apprenticed to him.
As the spell ended, the great stone slab crumbled into dust, as if millennia had crushed it, all within a few seconds. We all stepped forward – none of us could help ourselves – and immediately regretted it.
Instead of the sheen of precious metals, viscous tentacles burst forth, sweeping across the hall! We leapt back, the warriors drawing their weapons, as ever more thin and whippy tentacles lashed out. Whatever it was, it was incredibly fast and strong, and already a whip-like limb had wrapped around Kveldulf’s squire. Hairs like fine teeth dug into his flesh as it dragged him towards the hole in the floor. Kveldulf’s axe bit into the tentacle, and it fell to the flagstones, already melting into ichor.
‘A guardian!’ Araddh exclaimed. Two more had grabbed his squire already, and then the boy was gone. Everyone was fighting now, hacking with sword and dagger and axe, but the enemy, whatever it was, was somehow just filling the room with ever more arms. I began to wonder if it was even a single creature, or actually a nest of serpent worms. Fallen ones dissolved into sickening slime, but there were always more as we withdrew towards the corridor. ‘We could use an army,’ Karra shouted.
Araddh pushed me aside, into an alcove, just in time – more writhing serpent things were already whipping across the entrance to the corridor. He drew his sword, a rare sight for him, and held out a hand. ‘The Time Walk page,’ he snapped, ‘Now. It’s the only way to be quick enough to cut a path to safety through these things.’
I searched my satchel desperately, while Karra fell back into the alcove to catch her breath. ‘It’s impossible! Even with Time-Walking, there are too many of those things, and they’re too quick.’ She had a point – they were filling the hall like thick hair in a cat’s throat.
‘If being twice as fast as the fastest man isn’t enough, then what more can be done?’ I asked.
‘Nothing,’ Araddh snapped; he clenched his fists. ‘But we must... ’
Karra grabbed his shoulder. ‘Wait, if a spell can make you twice as fast, can’t another spell make you even faster? I mean, can’t you just cast it twice?’
‘Chronomancy doesn’t work that way,’ I said. ‘The incantations are so precise and complex that, even when Time Walking, it would be impossible to re-cast before the Walk ended.’
Araddh hushed me. ‘There is a way. Use two incantations.’
‘But Time Walking doesn’t work that way... ’
‘Storing time does. Now, don’t ask any questions. Just prepare the scrolls.’
I had no choice. ‘Yes, master.’
Araddh began to focus immediately, incanting the words and sounds recognised as the spell for Time Walking. Before he could disappear from view, which he would, I cast the same spell upon myself.
The world slowed around me, and suddenly even the ebon cords from which our enemy was made were drifting gently as if in a breeze. Our warriors moved so slowly that it seemed impossible that they could complete a step. Only Araddh and I were moving normally, so I could pass him the impedimenta needed for his next spell. As I stepped towards him, I saw a tentacle perilously close to his foot, and sliced it away with my dagger. It stayed floating in mid-air as I handed him the appropriate pieces from my satchel.
He then began to focus his skills on the spell to store a moment of time for future use, and, when that was completed, I heard him begin the Time Walk once more.
Then he was just a blur, as the world reasserted itself, and serpentine tentacles lashed at me. I reached for the sword that my master had put down while casting his spell, but it was suddenly whisked away by a blur. Our comrades rallied, as the serpent things began to fall, and black ichor splashed across the floor. My master had done it! I couldn’t even see him, but he was cutting a path back towards the corridor.
Kveldulf’s axe, and the swords of the others helped as well, as the forest of deadly limbs thinned out under steel. Then the spell wore off, and Araddh skidded to a halt with a pop of displaced air. His face was grim and determined, but he nodded to us, and raised his sword. At which point, Araddh skidded to a halt with a pop of displaced air.
‘What in the name of the gods... ?’ Kveldulf exclaimed. Lorenz and Karra exchanged astonished glances.
Araddh himself – themselves – looked confused, but his expression cleared quickly into one of eagerness. ‘Of course! This will be most useful... ’ Confusion returned as Araddh skidded to a halt with a pop of displaced air. And again. And another. They all looked as confused as the original.
Karra blinked. ‘I said we could have done with an army, but... ’ She stepped backwards to make room for more Araddhs, who were milling around, reading from scrolls, and gesturing as they incanted, while others cut and jabbed with their swords.
‘What happened?’ Lorenz shouted.
‘I have no idea,’ I lied. I had an idea, a theory. The two spells had clashed. That much was obvious. One spell doubled time – or halved it, from another’s view – while the other held time for later. Held a doubling of time, half of which held a store or a doubling, half of which held a store of... My blood chilled. Already there were twenty, or even thirty, of Araddh fighting the creature of limbs.
‘How many of them will there be?’ Kveldulf shouted.
I didn’t want to think of the possible answer. ‘Please, just get my master out of there!’
‘Which one’s actually Araddh?’ Karra called.
‘Gods’ teeth, that’s a point!’ Lorenz said. ‘Which of you is the original Araddh?’ he shouted.
‘I am!’ every single one of the fifty yelled. The pop of air was coming constantly now, and so were the screams of dying Araddhs as the press of bodies pushed others into the path of the lethal tentacles. Already the rest of us were edging along the walls, trying to avoid being trapped and crushed between them.
I began to feel as if I couldn’t breathe, taking a shorter gasp every time an Araddh bumped against me. At the same time I tried to cut at the enemy with my dagger. My foot bumped a fallen sword, and I stooped to grab it. As I did, Araddh – one of them - stumbled and fell, tripping several around him. I stooped to help one up, but Kveldulf grabbed my shoulder and dragged me away. ‘What are you doing?!’ I roared over the pops of appearing Araddhs, and the screams and babble.
‘Run! Or drown in wizards!’
I glanced back, seeing a jumbled mass of tumbling arms, legs,
and heads, all flailing and yelling. There were far fewer tentacles now – even they were outnumbered – but there were far too many of Araddh to count. His faces filled the room like a cloud of locusts. The same face contorted in uncountable expressions. I reached momentarily towards the approaching morass of robes and faces, but my legs were already moving, picking up speed as I stumbled forward alongside Kveldulf.
Lorenz and Karra had already darted along the corridor ahead, and I tried to think as I ran, to find a way to save the right Araddh. Then there was moonlight in our eyes, and air as cold as the light from the stars above, and the ground was shaking.
Ice and earth rattled down over our heads, and, as I looked back, the huge stone lintel over the chamber’s entrance cracked and fell. A tower overlooking the path was already crumbling with a roar, rubble falling across and over the lintel like a blizzard. Heavy blows hit us, but we didn’t stop running. Not yet.
Suddenly we were in a courtyard strewn with pebbles and hailstones, and we were no longer alone. We pulled up sharply, barely avoiding running right into a group of helmeted and mail-clad warriors. There was no time to get into guard stances or fighting crouches, as the warriors already had their swords and shields in position.
Kveldulf and Lorenz let their hands fall by their sides, but kept a grip on their weapons. The rest of us just opened our hands, showing we were unarmed, if not necessarily unthreatening. If it came to it, swords and armour conducted lightning very nicely.
The expressionless helmets swivelled back and forth, from us to the hallway that was now blocked by the landslide and rubble, and back to us. Then they stepped slightly aside, allowing a tall woman to step through. She wore thick layers of sky-blue doublet and hose, with a deep midnight cloak, and deep bronze tattoos flowed not just around her wrists and hands, but across her forehead as if she were wearing a circlet. ‘A witch,’ Kveldulf muttered under his breath.
‘Wizard,’ she said cheerfully, and Kveldulf scowled. Even Lorenz looked at her askance, and I had to smile inwardly. Either she had very good hearing, or had heard that assumption enough times to expect it.
‘With mastery of the elements,’ I said.
She nodded. ‘Fortunately for you and us. Only earth and rock will keep that army from swarming over the whole world.’ She looked at me the way a judge might, before pronouncing sentence. ‘You’re a wizard?’
‘Apprentice. To Master Araddh’
‘Is he still in there?’
‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Lorenz said. I merely nodded. The tall Elementalist walked around to the landslide, where the last trickles of soil and grit had finished falling. I couldn’t help but follow. The others came too, her soldiers a little more relaxed, while Kveldulf, Lorenz and Karra were showing their tiredness from their exertions.
She put on one boot on the rubble just below the largest part of the fallen lintel stone, and bent to listen. I did too, and I wish I hadn’t.
There were shouts, and yells and screams from deep inside the earth, all in the same voice, all in terror and agony that people usually describe as being unimaginable. I could imagine it too easily; I could see it in my head. There were other sounds too; wet popping sounds. The crack of bone and the slither of blood. I jumped back, almost falling, and tried to listen to the winds, or the blood rushing through my ears, or my own breathing, or anything but what I could hear beyond the landslide.
‘Then you’re a wizard now,’ the tattooed woman said, returning to her soldiers.
‘And your rival, I presume,’ Kveldulf said, tightening the grip on his axe.
She stifled a laugh. ‘Rival for what? Rival for what’s in there now?’ She shook her head. ‘I just came to save the world. You’re on your own now, lad.’ With that, she and her retinue simply walked away.
With that, I knew I would never be a Chronomancer. Never by choice.
David A. McIntee has written many tie-in novels in such franchises as Doctor Who, Star Trek, Final Destination and Space 1999. He has also written comics adapting the work of Ray Harryhausen, William Shatner and John Saul. He has been a regular features contributor to many genre media magazines, and has written academic studies about the Aliens and Predator series, Blakes 7, and others. He has also run re-enactment demos of Ancient Egyptian events.
THE COLDER STARS
Duncan Molloy
Sigurd climbed the stairs two a pace, angry with the girl, her father and himself. His men followed, keeping wisely silent. The door at the top was locked and he slammed his palm into it in frustration.
‘For the gods’ sake, Aen!’
There was silence. She must have been feeding it. Thunk thunk thunk, the butt of his fist into the woodwork.
‘Let me in Aen, this has been ordered. Aen!’
Thunk. He rested his weight against the door jam.
‘I’d really prefer not to break down this door.’
Sigurd heard the slow rattle of a bolt being pulled out of a lock, and his shoulders sagged just a little. He quietly told his men to remain where they were and stepped into the room. Aen had withdrawn into the corner and was suckling the child, stroking its cheek with her finger, eyes wet, hands trembling.
‘He was a handsome stable boy, was he?’
She didn’t respond.
‘I bet he was, the little bastard.’ Sigurd glanced at the child. ‘Sorry. Your father has managed to keep this from everyone, but he is not happy. Hand me the child.’
She seemed to shrink into the corner, wrapping herself around the baby like a shroud. Sigurd sighed wearily, heavily. He motioned to his men who pinned her by the arms and carried the baby out of the room and away from the tower. Aen looked so small. He softened.
‘I swore that I would protect you from harm. I swore that... Your father has commanded you to join the religious orders. This won’t be a bad life, Aen. I’ll stay with you. I’ll take care of you. I made a promise.’
He bundled her into his arms as he had done when she was very young, and walked out of the room. That was how Aen, the second daughter of the local lord, joined the Order of the Distant Prophets.
* * *
From afar the city of Frostgrave looked like a jagged claw rising from the frozen ground, but as they grew closer it looked like a slow wave, inevitability surrounding them until it swallowed them whole. Caelum ran a fire spell in his closed fists to fight off the cold in his fingers. His master would flog him for wasting magic, but there were more pressing concerns. He kept a close eye on the banks as they crept along the surface of the river. Master Dox walked ahead, focused on his ice spells, ensuring that the surface remained frozen despite the weight of their men. For such a rough looking bunch they were remarkably nervous about the ground beneath them, impassive as it was to a blade and a sneer.
A warning cry from one of the men to his left: a lone ghoul had spotted them and was stumbling its way down the bank towards them. This would be their seventh or eighth so far. He’d seen undead before, had even trained against a reanimated skeleton, but these were worse. The cold had kept their flesh from decaying. It hung on their bones, old killing wounds exposed, frozen eyes staring straight out of open sockets. The flesh of this one’s upper arm was torn away where it had frozen to the bicep.
He shook his shoulders and focused his gaze. The hired hands were reminded to save their crossbow bolts. Caelum carefully raised his hands and the ice around the ghoul shimmered as it suddenly melted. Before it could let out a moan it slipped into the river below. A shout went up, followed by several whispers to hush. Four more ghouls had stepped out from the wreckage and were making their way towards them. Caelum drew his hand across his chest and the first two dropped away. The third followed and there was a loud crack from the ice.
His eyes widened and everyone stood still. The ghoul raised its head and bore directly towards him. Caelum shifted his feet slightly and the ice beneath him groaned. Slowly, delicately, he focused his attention on the ground in front of the last ghoul. It slipped i
n the slush and fell face forward. Caelum turned his palms towards the sky and froze the monster in place, sealing the holes beside it. Dax nodded at him, and continued forward.
The biggest of the hired thugs laughed and hocked back as much phlegm as he could. He had scoffed when everyone else had armed themselves with crossbows and insisted on taking a mace. It rested over his shoulder now as he strode towards the trapped ghoul. Leaning back pointedly, making such a show of it he seemed almost like a travelling jester, he spat at the ghoul. Caelum flicked his wrist and a sudden gust blew the yellow lump of spit back into the man’s beard. Caelum quickly put his hands in his pockets. Yellowbeard’s curses were quieted by distant barking, and the crew hurried on their way. They had much ground to make up, and little time.
* * *
Caelum hadn’t seen her in many months, but it was still a shock when he heard that Aen had joined the Order. He had followed her out of duty, a broken heart, and a lack of anything better to do. He followed her on the long trek to a distant city in the north, only to be stopped at the final hurdle. The Order had not laughed at his request to be inducted. They’d been incredulous, as though the thought of common blood learning the Prophets’ secrets was beyond even comprehension.
He seethed with impotent rage. Everything had been denied to him: love, a child, the promise of a better life. He didn’t return home after his pilgrimage to the Holy Citadel. He sat in a stupor, spirits darkening his own dark spirit, until a cock-sure local gave him a chance to exorcise some of his rage. Caelum had been remarkably steady for someone so port-filled. Used to wild horses, he knew how to duck a wide swing, when to avoid momentum, when an animal was ready to be broken. He broke this one’s face on the corner of a fireplace and let the man’s coat sleeves act as kindling. Dox had grabbed him and huddled him away as his rage cooled and horror set in.
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