Firestorm

by William Stacey

  A dense storm of fire swept down upon the young man. He looked up, seeming to meet Angie's eyes, and screamed. As he did, the fire swept down into his throat, just as it had done to her so many years ago in Char's sanctum.

  BUT HIS SOUL WAS ALREADY TAINTED BY HIS SAD LIFE, TWISTED BY ANGER AND GREED.

  Sand blew about her again, obscuring her vision once more. When it calmed a moment later, she saw the young man wearing beautiful robes, casting powerful spells. He stood alone against an army, casting flaming whirlwinds to scorch his foes. The arrows of his enemies struck the shield the Shade King erected, shattering in a shower of sparks. Sand whipped about her once more.

  HIS PEOPLE CALLED HIM A HERO BUT ONLY BECAUSE THEY HAD YET TO SEE THE DARKNESS IN HIS HEART.

  Now she saw the young man atop a white-marble throne wearing a crown of gold and rubies, attended by servants, a harem of beautiful naked women at his feet. She saw prisoners brought before him for judgment, which was always death, always beheading. At first, the prisoners were captured thieves, but later others ... political opponents, and then anyone who questioned his rule. Bronze axes fell, blood sprayed, and heads rolled.

  THROUGH ME, HE RULED AS A TYRANT. AND ALTHOUGH I ONCE AGAIN TASTED MAGIC, I BEGAN TO REGRET OUR BONDING. AND ALWAYS HE INSISTED I TEACH HIM MORE, HELP HIM FIGHT HIS NEIGHBORS. WHEN I REALIZED THE DEPTHS OF HIS CRUELTY, I HELD BACK THE GREATEST PART OF MY MAGIC, REFUSING TO TEACH HIM HOW TO PROLONG HIS FOUL LIFE. WE CAME TO HATE ONE ANOTHER—AS MUCH AS WE NEEDED ONE ANOTHER.

  Time passed, and the young man became an old king, his face lined with hatred and spite. The once-beautiful kingdom by the river was now dark with fear.

  I WAS TRAPPED, WATCHING HELPLESSLY AS HE COMMITTED EVIL ACT AFTER EVIL ACT. BUT AL-ADIN COULD NOT ESCAPE TIME, AND HE DIED—HATED AND FEARED. BUT I WAS TRAPPED WITHIN HIS DEAD FLESH. I HAD NOT THOUGHT SUCH A THING COULD HAPPEN.

  She saw the funeral, saw his old body buried within the bowels of a stone crypt.

  FOR YEARS, PERHAPS HUNDREDS OF YEARS, I LAY TRAPPED WITHIN HIS MOLDERING REMAINS. UNTIL ... ANOTHER CAME FOR ME.

  A young woman with long dark hair and even darker eyes broke into the crypt. She carried a lit torch, but like Al-Adin, she blazed with magical energy. She’s another source mage, Angie realized. The woman found Al-Adin's mummified corpse. She broke the bones apart, stuffed them into a wooden chest, and carried the remains of Al-Adin—along with the trapped Shade King—away from the crypt.

  BABI YAGHA, THE SWAMP WITCH. I DO NOT KNOW HOW SHE LEARNED OF ME, BUT WHEN SHE DID, SHE WOULD LET NOTHING STOP HER. BUT AFTER LIVING WITHIN AL-ADIN FOR SO LONG, I NOW RECOGNIZED THE SAME EVIL IN HER. I SWORE I WOULD NEVER BOND AGAIN WITH SUCH A CREATURE.

  I WAS A FOOL.

  Babi Yagha carried the box out of the desert and far to the west, to forested mountains wreathed in mist, and finally to a stinking, foul swamp. A small hut stood within the swamp atop wooden stilts like a dock rising from the sea. Dark fog wreathed the hut, and it seemed alive with menace. Skulls sat atop wooden posts. Many of the skulls were those of children.

  BABI YAGHA TRIED TO ENTICE ME TO BOND WITH HER, PROMISING ME GREAT MAGIC. I REFUSED. BUT BABI YAGHA WAS NOT WITHOUT HER OWN DARK ARTS, HAVING LEARNED TO LIVE AND WORK HER MAGIC WITHOUT THE HELP OF A SHADE. SHE WAS ONE OF THOSE RARE CREATURES, HUMAN MAGES WHO HAD SOMEHOW LEARNED TO WIELD MAGIC WITHOUT KILLING HERSELF.

  Angie saw the young woman use a stone mortar and pestle to crush the bones holding the Shade King. Then she mixed the powder with the blood of a child she had slaughtered. Horrified, Angie watched as Babi Yagha made an unholy paste and consumed it all, licking the bottom of the stone bowl when she was done.

  THIS TIME THE BONDING HAD BEEN FORCED ON ME—A CRUEL JOKE, DO YOU NOT THINK?

  "I'm ... I'm sorry. That's horrible."

  IT WOULD GET MUCH WORSE. ALTHOUGH BONDED WITH ME, SHE COULDN'T MAKE ME TEACH HER. WHAT SHE COULD DO, THOUGH, WAS WIELD VASTLY MORE POWERFUL SPELLS THROUGH ME.

  The vision before Angie blurred and sped up. She saw the woman casting fire spells, roaring tornadoes of flame that burned entire villages. The countryside around the swamp became desolate and abandoned. The Swamp Witch became infamous, with tales spreading far. Some challenged her, heroes who came to her swamp to destroy her, but they always died in fire. She grew old, living alone in her hut, and because she was so hated, when she became sick, there were none to tend her. She died alone, victim of a fever, and no one knew or mourned her end. The swamp became a foul, haunted place.

  AND SO I WAS TRAPPED AGAIN, ONCE MORE LOCKED AWAY WITH THE BONES OF ANOTHER DEAD MAGE. BUT OTHERS HAD HEARD TALES OF BABI YAGHA’S EVIL. OTHERS WHO DIDN’T FEAR THE SWAMP WITCH.

  A dozen forms moved through the swamp, approaching the witch’s hut. Angie stared, not quite sure what she was looking at. Then realization coursed through her: the figures were Fey, unmistakable now. Elven warriors accompanied a Fey woman with bark-like skin and hair so green that at first Angie thought she wore leaves in her hair but then realized the leaves were her hair. She was a dryad. Char had spoken of them, but never had she met one. The dryad walked with a long staff, her feet bare, unconcerned about the filthy swamp waters she traversed, and indeed, with every step, the waters became less foul around her. The Fey approached Babi Yagha’s hut, now fallen over and lying half submerged.

  THEY CAME TO END HER EVIL, NEVER REALIZING SHE HAD BEEN DEAD FOR MORE THAN A YEAR.

  They broke through the door, warped by water, and saw the rotted remains of the witch’s corpse. Even in death, Babi Yagha’s dark eye sockets glared at them.

  The Fey dragged Babi Yagha’s rotting corpse from her hut and burned it and then scraped her remains into a jar—a clay jar roughly a foot tall and covered in hieroglyphics, the same jar that had held the Shade King in Char’s sanctum a lifetime later.

  The circle of time had closed.

  THEY CARRIED ME BACK TO THE EAST FROM WHENCE I HAD COME. I HAD BEEN USED FOR SO MUCH EVIL THAT I VOWED TO NEVER LEAVE THE JAR AGAIN. THERE WERE NO SOURCE MAGES AMONG THE FEY WHO HELD ME—EVEN AMONG FEY, SOURCE MAGES ARE EXCEEDINGLY RARE. THEY STUDIED THE CHARRED REMAINS OF BABI YAGHA, SUSPECTING SOMETHING REMAINED BUT UNCERTAIN WHAT IT MIGHT BE. SOME SAID "DJINN," BUT IT WAS ONLY A GUESS. THEY HANDED ME FROM FEY TO FEY BEFORE, CENTURIES LATER, SENDING ME TO ONE AMONG THEIR KIND WHO COLLECTED MAGICAL ODDITIES—YOUR MOTHER, THE SUCCUBUS.

  "She … she thought the jar was empty," Angie said in a whisper.

  I SLEPT—UNTIL THE DAY I FELT YOU PROBE MY REMAINS. WHEN I FELT YOU, WHEN I TOUCHED YOUR SOUL—A PURE SOUL, ONE NOT TWISTED LIKE AL-ADIN’S AND BABI YAGHA’S—I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF. I DID WHAT I HAD PROMISED TO NEVER DO AGAIN: BOND WITH ANOTHER SOURCE MAGE.

  "But … you never spoke with me, never behaved like anything but another shade, not until the crash."

  THE DRAGON’S MAGIC WALLED AWAY YOUR MEMORIES OF TAKING YOUR FATHER’S LIFE, BUT THEY ALSO BARRICADED YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS FROM ME—UNTIL THE DAY YOU ALMOST DIED. I REALIZED IF I DID NOT HELP YOU, YOU WOULD DIE, AND I WOULD BE TRAPPED ONCE MORE. I BROKE THROUGH THE DRAGON’S BARRIER, REACHING OUT TO YOU. I WORKED MAGIC THROUGH YOU, KEEPING YOU ALIVE.

  "The people whose life force I took … the stable hand, the Tzitzime?"

  I AM SORRY FOR YOUR PAIN, ANGELA, BUT YOU ALREADY KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT. I CAN NO LONGER TOUCH THE MAGIC DIRECTLY. BUT SOMETIMES, WHEN THE NEED IS GREAT, I CAN WORK MY MAGIC THROUGH YOU.

  "Then it’s true. I killed those people." She felt as though the world sat atop her shoulders, threatening to crush her.

  IT HURTS BECAUSE YOUR SOUL IS PURE. NEITHER AL-ADIN NOR BABI YAGHA EVER EXPERIENCED A MOMENT OF DOUBT OR ANGUISH FOR THE LIVES THEY STOLE. ONCE YOU TOOK YOUR FIRST LIFE, TOOK MAGIC DIRECT FROM THE SOURCE, YOU BEGAN TO ACHIEVE YOUR POTENTIAL. YOUR SPELLS, THOSE PALTRY SPELLS THE FEY TAUGHT YOU, GREW A HUNDREDFOLD IN STRENGTH.

  "Why did you wait so long to tell me any of this?"

  FOR TWO REASONS. THE FIRST WAS BECAUSE I UNDERSTOOD WHY THE DRAGON HID YOUR PAST FROM YOU. YOU WOULD NEED
ONLY A PUSH TO SEND YOU INTO THE ABYSS, TO MAKE YOU LIKE AL-ADIN AND BABI YAGHA, SO I HID AWAY WITHIN YOUR PSYCHE BUT WAS ALWAYS WATCHING.

  THE SECOND REASON WAS BECAUSE I COULD ONLY BREAK THROUGH THE DRAGON’S BARRIER WHEN THE NEED WAS MOST DIRE—THE DAY YOU ALMOST DIED. BUT AFTER I BROKE THROUGH ONCE, IT BECAME EASIER. EVEN WHEN YOUR LIFE WASN’T THREATENED, I REACHED OUT TO YOU ON THE MOUNTAINTOP, SHOWED YOU THE HIDDEN ENTRANCE TO THE LAIR OF THE DRAGON.

  YET STILL THE DRAGON’S BARRIER IMPEDED MY EFFORTS.

  WHEN THE OTHER SOURCE MAGE, THE FEY LORD, SHOWED YOU THE PAST, HE RIPPED AWAY THE DRAGON’S MAGIC, REPLACING IT WITH HIS OWN CHARM SPELL. THE IRONY WAS THAT YOU WERE FINALLY FREE BUT DEAF TO MY WARNINGS.

  "And Lodin—he’s cast a spell over me to make me love him."

  YES.

  "Why? Why would he care about me?"

  HE DOES NOT CARE ABOUT YOU. HE FEARS YOU.

  "Fears me? He's a Fey Lord, king of the Hollows, another source mage, one who understands the magic far better than I ever could. Why would he fear me?"

  HE FEARS WHAT YOU MAY BECOME. HE KNOWS THERE'S SOMETHING DIFFERENT ABOUT YOU. HE CAN SENSE MY PRESENCE. BUT HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT I AM, NOT YET—ALTHOUGH HE BEGINS TO SUSPECT. EVEN IN HIS REALM, HE HAS HEARD THE TALES OF AL-ADIN AND BABI YAGHA. BUT HE KNOWS THAT IF HE COMPLETES HIS CHARM SPELL, HE WILL CONTROL YOU—AND ME THROUGH YOU. IF THAT EVER COMES TO PASS, HE WILL NEVER CONTENT HIMSELF WITH ONE REALM. HE IS A KINDRED SOUL TO AL-ADIN AND BABI YAGHA.

  "I ..." Lodin had cast a spell on her. She saw that so clearly now. The knowledge made her angry. She was tired of being played, tired of never knowing what was real and what was magic. First, the dragon-mark had drawn her and Tec together—but he had insisted it only intensified feelings that were already there, and she believed him—but this, Lodin’s charm spell, was completely different. Lodin's magic was much darker. She made fists of her hands, concentrated on her breaths. "Is he ... is it too late?"

  NOT YET. HERE, TIME HAS SLOWN TO A CRAWL, BUT IF HE CONSUMMATES HIS RITUAL, YOU WILL TRULY BE LOST, A THRALL BOUND IN CHAINS OF LOVE FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. YOU MUST AWAKEN AND FIGHT BACK.

  "How? If what you say is true, then it’s already too late. I’m not strong enough to fight him."

  I CAN HELP YOU, BUT YOU MUST GO BACK NOW. DO NOT LET HIM HAVE YOU. DO NOT LET HIM HAVE US.

  In truth, it was all too much, but she believed him—it—the Shade King. "Okay, send me back."

  Fires blanketed her. Just for a moment, she feared she’d burn. She didn’t.

  She opened her eyes to see Lodin looming over her, his face shiny with lust. She had no mana left, but Char had taught her students to fight with hexed swords or bare fists.

  STRIKE, ANGELA. HIS SHADE WILL NOT PROTECT HIM FROM ME.

  Angie made a knife of her right hand and struck Lodin in the throat with her fingertips. The look of profound surprise that filled his golden eyes was much more satisfying than sex with him ever could have been.

  Chapter 29

  Angie followed up her throat strike by kneeing Lodin in his golden balls.

  He fell away from her, curling into a ball onto the stone floor, a half wheeze, half moan slipping past his lips. She was on her feet in a moment and hurried to the stand upon which he kept his spear. She took the weapon in both hands, holding it like a staff. Lodin rose to his knees, his face red with pain, and tried to extend his hand toward her. She spun the spear, slamming the end of the shaft against his golden-blond head. The impact made a meaty thud, and Lodin dropped. She had been angry and had hit him a tad harder than she had meant to, but his chest still rose and fell. Just for a moment, she considered finishing him. She was pretty sure Erin would have, but she just couldn't bring herself to commit cold-blooded murder. She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. What do I do now? she asked the Shade King.

  ESCAPE.

  How? The tower is filled with his warriors. There are centaurs patrolling the perimeter.

  I WILL SHOW YOU THE PATH. BRING HIS WEAPON. YOU WILL NEED IT TO OPEN THE PORTAL.

  She dressed quickly, once more putting on her beautiful wedding gown. As with most Fey garments, the silver-and-blue gown was cut too low in the chest, the arms bare, and a long slit in the hem revealed most of her thigh, but it was better than nothing, and at least she'd be able to move and fight. Thank God these Fey don’t know about high heels, she thought as she put the soft slippers back on, wishing she had a good pair of combat boots. She hefted the spear. It was too heavy for her, but as with the gown, it was better than nothing.

  You'd better be right about this, she told the Shade King. It didn't answer. First things first: she needed to return to her own bedchamber. There was no way she was leaving without Nightfall.

  She left Lodin slumbering on the floor, a puddle of drool around his mouth. She stopped in the open doorway, turning to glare at him. "Sorry, but it would never have worked out between us. I don't like my men prettier than me." Then she slipped out into the dark passageway.

  Torches burned in wall sconces, and Angie slipped through the corridors of Lodin's fortresslike tower. She knew exactly where she was, although she couldn't say just how long she had been here: days, weeks ... longer? Lodin's spell was gone, leaving her head clear, and resolve filled her. She needed to get home, back to her own world, back to Tec, a man she did care for.

  A man she now suspected she did love.

  Was he even still alive? Damn Lodin! Maybe she should have killed him after all.

  She slipped down the stone corridors. Most of the guards were on the lower levels, not here near Lodin's personal chambers. There would be some, though, his very best ogden warriors. And even at night, there'd be servants. If they saw her—slipping away from the marriage bed—they’d be suspicious. If they saw she bore Lodin's spear, they'd raise the alarm for certain.

  When she heard movement in the corridor ahead, she slipped into an empty broom chamber and closed her eyes, casting out her life sense. Three life forms—elves, she thought—moved down the hallway, walking right past where she hid. She remained until they moved out of range and then opened her eyes and slipped out once more. She might have been out of mana, but she could still sense life. I could have a new career as a thief.

  She reached her own bedchamber. It was on the same level as Lodin's, which made sense; he'd want her close for his spell to work. Her door was closed, but she slipped it open and darted inside, closing it softly behind her.

  Maeve lay on her bed, naked, another satyr atop her, a male she had seen working in Lodin's stables. They were clearly in the throes of coitus, but Maeve's eyes widened when she spied Angie, grew even wider when she saw the spear in her hands.

  "Oh, shit," Angie said, her breath catching in her throat, but she lunged forward, swinging the end of the spear down on the back of the stable hand's head, hating herself for the solid "thwack" it made. Maeve's lover fell atop her, trapping her. Maeve opened her mouth to scream, and Angie, unsure of what else to do, dropped the spear and threw herself atop them, placing her palm over the satyr's mouth.

  TAKE HER LIFE FORCE, the Shade King urged.

  "I won't kill her," Angie said out loud, wrestling with the increasingly frantic satyr.

  YOU'VE NEVER HAD TO. A profound sense of regret coursed through Angie, emanating from the entity she shared her body with. THERE IS SO MUCH I HAVE YET TO TEACH YOU. LET ME START WITH MERCY. TAKE ONLY A FRACTION. I WILL HELP YOU STOP BEFORE YOU TAKE IT ALL.

  The concept of killing Maeve filled Angie with horror, but she knew that in another moment, the satyr would break free and scream, and if the guards captured her, Angie would never escape Lodin again. The thought of a lifetime enthralled to that golden freak panicked her. She opened herself up, willing Maeve's life force to flow into her. And as it did, Maeve froze, her eyes wide.

  But a heartbeat later, the Shade King helped her stop. ENOUGH.

  Angie gasped as she drew back, climbing from the two satyrs to stand at the foot of her bed, her breath he
aving. Mana flowed through her, energizing her, but Maeve still lived. Her eyes had rolled into the back of her head, and her small breasts rose and fell.

  "I ... I never ... Oh, god, why didn't I realize I could stop?" She stared in abject disbelief, once again seeing the face of the dead stable hand and then her father. All those lives...

  CONTROL COMES WITH PRACTICE. I ONLY KNEW IT WAS POSSIBLE BECAUSE BOTH AL-ADIN AND BABI YAGHA TORTURED HUNDREDS, TAKING A FRACTION OF THEIR LIFE FORCE AT A TIME TO PROLONG THEIR VICTIMS' DEATHS. THEIR INTENT WAS EVIL, BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN YOU CANNOT USE IT FOR GOOD. BUT HURRY NOW. YOU ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME.

  Her thoughts a tempest, she snatched Nightfall from the footlocker, strapping the sword around her hip. She froze when she saw the glint of glass in the depths of the locker: her watch, her father's watch. With fingers trembling, she took the family heirloom. As she held the Second World War–era observation watch, her emotions surged. It had been handed down from father to son until finally it had come to her—not, as she had always believed, from her father's hand but from Marshal's. Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she held it to her bosom. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

  THE FAULT WAS NEVER YOURS. THE SUCCUBUS KNEW THIS, AS DID THE DRAGON. YOU ARE A SOURCE MAGE. SOONER ASK A BABE TO NOT DRAW BREATH THAN TO EXPECT YOU TO NOT DRAW LIFE.

  "I killed him, my own father. I drove my mother and brother away."

  ANGELA, YOU MUST MAKE PEACE WITH WHAT YOU ARE. YOUR SECRETS ARE ALL GONE, THE PAST LAID BARE. ALL THAT REMAINS IS WHAT COMES NEXT. HONOR YOUR FATHER'S MEMORY WITH THE CHOICES YOU MAKE. MAYHAPS WE CAN BOTH MAKE AMENDS FOR OUR SINS. TOGETHER.

  She wiped angrily at her eyes but strapped the watch into place, a fierce determination replacing her anguish. Then she heard the cries of the guards as the alarm rose within the tower.

  HE AWAKES. HURRY!

  She darted from her bedchamber just as a trio of ax-wielding ogden guards in plate armor ran around the far corner of the passageway. They cried out and charged her. Angie cast Shockwave but aimed for the floor of the passageway in front of them. The force of the blast rebounded and knocked the guards down. They weren't her enemy and never had been, and she wasn’t about to start killing indiscriminately. She reached the stairs but heard the uproar from below. The entire tower was roused. I'll never get out, not now.