The Scorched Earth (The Chaos Born)

by Drew Karpyshyn

  “But Norr refused to play your game,” Shalana muttered wearily. “He left instead.”

  She wasn’t shocked by her father’s admission. She wasn’t surprised by his indifference to her feelings or his callous manipulation of her emotions. She wasn’t even angry. Too much time had passed for her to be upset by what he had done, too much had changed.

  I’ve become too much like him.

  “My plan still worked,” Terramon insisted, his voice smug. “When Norr left, you hardened your heart and became the leader we needed. You continued the work I began. You made the other clans bow down and fed the glory of the Stone Spirits.

  “Now that Norr is back,” he added after a brief pause, “I only hope you stay strong enough to defeat him.”

  Shalana snorted. “Did you see his leg? He can barely stand.”

  “Don’t underestimate him,” Terramon cautioned, leaning on his staff as he struggled back to his feet. Shalana made no effort to help him up.

  “Norr may appear vulnerable,” her father added, “but he consorts with Outlanders. They are devious people who have no honor. Beware of their treachery.”

  As he left the tent, the irony of his warning was not lost on Shalana.

  Scythe reached out a trembling hand and placed it on Keegan’s naked shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine. In the night shadows she was little more than a silhouette, but to the young man’s eyes she had never been more beautiful.

  Too overwhelmed to speak her name, he reached out and drew her naked body in close to his, his heart beating so fast it ached in his chest.

  “Keegan,” she breathed in a soft whisper, “can you hear me?”

  The question seemed odd, given the situation. It caught him off guard and caused his romantic anticipation to falter.

  A confused, “What?” was all he could reply.

  “Keegan,” Scythe said again, still whispering but louder and more insistent. “Are you up?”

  In an instant, the dream was shredded and torn apart, the pieces falling away like the tatters of an old blanket.

  Keegan rolled over, his eyes trying to pierce the darkness of his small tent as he pushed away the last vestiges of sleep. The hide flap keeping out the night’s chill was open, and by the dim light of the smoldering peat fire outside he could just make out Scythe’s lithe form crouched near the entrance.

  “It’s cold out here,” she said. “Can I come in?”

  The young man nodded and scooted over to give her room, grateful the darkness hid the bright red flush of embarrassment he felt crawling across his features.

  She doesn’t know you were dreaming about her. That you dream about her most nights.

  There wasn’t much room in the tent, and her leg brushed up against his as she crawled inside, causing his pulse to race. He felt a familiar stirring below his belt and began to blush even harder, praying to the Old Gods and the New that Scythe wouldn’t notice the effect her presence was having.

  It’s the middle of the night, he thought, trying to calm himself by keeping his breathing slow and steady. Why is she here?

  “It’s Norr,” she said. “If we don’t help him, he’s going to lose.”

  Keegan knew exactly what she was talking about. In two days Norr was scheduled to face Shalana in single combat, a duel to determine who would be Chief of the Stone Spirit clan. Immediately after the meeting with Shalana and her thanes, the big man had explained to all of them what was to come and what was at stake.

  Scythe had made it very clear she wasn’t happy about it, but there didn’t seem to be any other options.

  “I don’t think we’re allowed to help him,” Keegan said, his mind still groggy from being woken up in the middle of the night. “It’s a duel. Single combat.”

  “You don’t seem that worried about it,” Scythe said, her tone exasperated.

  Even if he loses, Shalana has promised to help us, he thought, but he knew better than to say it out loud. That wasn’t why Scythe was here.

  “He’s going to lose that duel,” she insisted. “And when he does, he’s just stupid enough to keep his promise to marry that spear-carrying cow!”

  Keegan wanted to put a comforting hand on her arm or give her a reassuring hug. But he didn’t trust his body not to betray him if he made physical contact. Instead, he had to resort to awkward, empty words.

  “Norr knows how to fight,” Keegan offered. “Maybe he’ll win.”

  Scythe gave a dismissive snort.

  “Not with that bad knee. That’s the only reason Shalana ever agreed to it. She knows he can barely stand.

  “And he hasn’t even picked up a weapon in five years,” she added. “I don’t care how great a warrior he used to be—he’s out of practice. He doesn’t stand a chance.”

  “We’ve been over this, Scythe,” Keegan reminded her. “Norr doesn’t have a choice. None of us do. He has to fight.”

  “Yeah,” Scythe conceded, “but he doesn’t have to fight fair!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know,” she said, and through the darkness he could just make out her silhouette holding up her fingers and twiddling them in the air. “Maybe you can cast a spell to help him out.”

  “Even if we could get the Ring away from Jerrod,” Keegan cautioned, “I think it’s too dangerous to use it for something like this.”

  “Not the Ring. Just you. You’re a wizard, right? You know how to do magic.”

  “Barely,” Keegan admitted sullenly. “I’m still an apprentice.” And now I’m a cripple, too, he thought as he rubbed the stump of his missing hand.

  “That storm that almost wiped out Torian wasn’t something an apprentice could pull off.”

  “That was different,” Keegan said. “I didn’t control that. It just … happened.” Because you poured a massive overdose of witchroot down my throat and almost killed me, he silently added.

  “Please,” Scythe implored, reaching out and placing a hand on Keegan’s bare shoulder, stirring up memories of his recent dream.

  Struggling to ignore his body’s eagerness to respond, he paused to collect his thoughts. Even if he wanted to help, there wasn’t much he could do. They didn’t have any witchroot to open his mind and they had no talismans or charms he could draw on. Plus, he had no idea what kind of spell or ritual would be able to shape the Chaos to help Norr win the duel without alerting the entire clan.

  And if Norr loses, we still get the clan’s help. He just has to marry Shalana.

  In some ways, that was the perfect outcome for Keegan. Scythe would be upset at first. But with Norr out of the way she might someday start to feel for Keegan what he already felt for her.

  It’s like fate is bringing us together. I just have to tell her there’s nothing I can do.

  Instead, when he opened his mouth he told her, “We can’t do this alone. We need to speak with someone who knows way more about magic than I do.”

  “I’m not a wizard!” Vaaler protested. “You know that, Keegan. We studied together for two years!”

  “And in that time you memorized everything Rexol taught us: every chant, every rune, every ritual.”

  It had been difficult to avoid physical contact with Scythe while the two of them shared Keegan’s small tent. Now, with all three of them crammed into Vaaler’s, it was impossible to avoid pressing up against her. But Keegan was excited enough about their plan to stay focused on why they were really here.

  “It took me weeks to learn a new spell,” he continued, trying to build up his friend’s confidence. “But you could do it in a single day. You know how to summon, shape, and control Chaos better than I ever will.

  “With Rexol gone,” Keegan concluded, “you probably understand the fundamental theories and tenets of magic better than any mage in the Southlands.”

  “But all that knowledge doesn’t help me,” Vaaler insisted, “because I’m not a wizard! I can’t summon Chaos!”

  “You don’t have to,” Scythe chimed in. “You just
have to show Keegan how to do it, then he casts the spell.”

  “If I’m ever going to learn to control the Ring, then I need someone to teach me all the things Rexol never got around to,” the young mage added.

  Vaaler was silent for a few seconds before trying another argument against them.

  “Scythe, you know that Norr doesn’t love Shalana anymore, right?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” she snapped, a bit too quickly.

  “If he marries her, it will be in name only,” Vaaler assured her. “It’s purely political. She just needs him as her husband to legitimize her claim as chief. That’s all it is. You two can still be together.”

  “You don’t know Norr like I do,” Scythe replied. “He’s got this weird, stupidly stubborn sense of duty. If he takes that marriage vow, he’s going to honor it. He won’t put it aside just so we can still be together.

  “And that heifer’s going to want him to stay here and become part of the clan again. Even if Norr was willing to keep me around as some kind of mistress or concubine, I can’t spend the rest of my life living with these people. Not even for him.”

  “I’m sorry, Scythe,” Vaaler said, shaking his head. “Even if I wanted to help, there’s nothing we can do. A wizard can’t do anything without taking some witchroot first. It opens up the mind so it can summon the Chaos.”

  “I dumped a whole bottle down Keegan’s throat back in Torian,” she said hopefully.

  “And almost killed him,” Vaaler reminded her. “Anyway, it’s cleared his system by now,” he added.

  “Maybe not,” Keegan said. “That overdose did almost kill me, but I survived. I was lost in the Sea of Fire, but I found my way back. The journey changed me.”

  “What are you talking about?” Vaaler demanded.

  “When that patrol found us in the forest,” Keegan said, speaking quickly as the vague idea that had been lurking in the back of his mind slowly began to coalesce, “I was able to use Chaos to warp their arrows and snap their bows.”

  “And that almost killed you, too,” Vaaler reminded him. “That one small act of magic left you huddled and helpless on the ground.”

  “But I did it,” Keegan insisted. “And I didn’t need any witchroot to make it happen.”

  “There still could have been some lingering traces in your system,” Vaaler objected. “And the Danaan Forest is special. The trees hold the power of Old Magic. It’s easier to summon Chaos there. That’s why the Danaan mages don’t need to use witchroot like they do in the Southlands.”

  Vaaler was right. The Danaan Forest was special; Keegan had almost been able to feel the power of Old Magic hanging in the air. That feeling had vanished once they left the forest behind. But that wasn’t the only time he’d summoned Chaos without the mind-altering effects of witchroot flowing through his veins.

  “I’ve done this before,” Keegan said softly. “The night my father died, I unleashed Chaos on the bandit who murdered him. Killed him instantly. That’s how Rexol found me and took me to be his apprentice.”

  Scythe didn’t say anything, but she reached out and placed her hand on Keegan’s shoulder from behind, giving him a gentle, consoling squeeze.

  “Remember what Jerrod told us,” Vaaler warned, still not convinced. “Chaos is thin here in the Frozen East. If he could sense that, then you can, too.”

  Keegan reached up and placed his hand on top of Scythe’s, still resting on his shoulder. He patted it twice and took a deep breath.

  “I have to try,” he said. “If I can’t even help one man win a duel, how can I save the world from an army of Chaos Spawn? Trust me, Vaaler. I can do this. I need to do this.”

  The Danaan reached up and rubbed the back of his neck as he thought it over, forcing Keegan to lean back to keep from catching an elbow in the side of his head. The movement caused him to release his grip on Scythe’s hand as it dropped from his shoulder.

  “If you can actually manage to summon Chaos without the witchroot, then you should be able to use Rexol’s staff as a talisman to channel and focus its power,” he mused. “We might be able to put some kind of curse or hex on her.”

  “Perfect,” Scythe said, leaning in close over Keegan’s shoulder in her exuberance.

  “It would have to be subtle,” Vaaler cautioned. “Something small so the Stone Spirits don’t know we cheated. Something to give her a little bad luck during the fight.”

  “Will something that small be enough for Norr to beat her?” Scythe fretted.

  “At least it’ll give him a chance,” Keegan said. “That’s more than he’s got now.”

  “It’ll be easier if we have something to use as a fetish,” Vaaler noted. “Something personal from Shalana. Hair or blood would work best.”

  “Could Norr get that from her without raising suspicion?” Keegan asked, turning back to look at Scythe over his shoulder.

  “Norr can’t know about this,” Scythe said. “He’d never go along with it. But I can get what you need.”

  “We don’t need much,” Vaaler said. “Don’t shave her head bald or slice off her finger or anything crazy like that. We don’t want to attract any attention.”

  “Nothing like that ever crossed my mind,” Scythe assured him, though Keegan got the sense she wasn’t being completely honest.

  “What about Jerrod?” the young mage asked. “Should we tell him what we’re planning?”

  “Not unless you want him to try to stop us,” Scythe shot back. “You really think he’d let his precious savior do something this risky?”

  “He can be a little overprotective,” Vaaler agreed. “But in this case he might be right. Summoning Chaos is always dangerous. Don’t take this lightly.”

  “I won’t,” Keegan promised.

  Vaaler let out a long, heavy sigh. “Okay, I guess that’s it. Let’s meet tomorrow night on the far side of the camp near the latrines after everyone else is asleep. We’ll want some privacy for this.

  “Now let me get some sleep,” the ex-prince said, lying back down and turning his back to them.

  Scythe backed out of the tent, then Keegan did the same, tying off the door flap. They stood up and he turned to head back to his own tent, but stopped when Scythe grabbed his hand.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, leaning in close so he could hear. “This means a lot to me, and I know how hard this is for you.”

  She squeezed his hand, then let go and vanished into the darkness, leaving Keegan standing alone in the night.

  Chapter 16

  THE NEXT NIGHT, Vaaler was already waiting for Keegan when he arrived. Inside the perimeter of the camp, peat fires and lanterns provided plenty of illumination and heat. Here beyond the edges, however, it was both dark and cold, and the young wizard used Rexol’s staff to help feel his way across the frozen, uneven ground.

  At least the cold keeps it from smelling too bad, Keegan thought, remembering the nearby latrines. The fact that they’d been built just west of the camp, so that the prevailing winds would carry the stench in the opposite direction, probably didn’t hurt either.

  “Any trouble slipping away?” Vaaler asked, as his friend approached.

  Keegan shook his head. Ever since Norr had challenged Shalana, the Stone Spirits had stopped treating the Outlanders like prisoners. There were no guards assigned to watch over them, and—as far as Keegan could tell—no restrictions on their comings and goings.

  He’d expected to be regarded with either suspicion or curiosity by the clan, but instead the barbarians mostly just ignored him. Few of them spoke Keegan’s language, or if they did they weren’t interested in making conversation. They weren’t even interested in making eye contact.

  Vaaler had already begun to make preparations for the ritual, tracing a two-foot diameter circle on the ground. Around it he’d inscribed several arcane symbols. Some of them Keegan recognized from his studies with Rexol, but others were unfamiliar.

  Let Vaaler worry about the symbols, he rem
inded himself. You just make sure to get the words right.

  He’d spent most of the day alone in his tent, memorizing and rehearsing the tongue-twisting syllables Vaaler had written down for him until he could recite them flawlessly. Fortunately, all the words were ones he’d used before, so he had some experience in saying them with the proper tone, inflection, and emphasis.

  Is that coincidence, or did Vaaler compose this spell using only words he knew I’d be comfortable with? Does he know enough about magic to actually alter and modify a spell to make it easier for me, or did he just grab a simple incantation that only uses the most basic verbal components to bind the Chaos?

  Keegan understood that his friend knew more about magic than he did; in their time together under Rexol it was clear Vaaler was the far superior student. What he couldn’t be sure of was exactly how much more Vaaler knew. Unleashing Chaos on the mortal world in an explosion of destructive power was a relatively simple task; even Keegan could manage something as crude as that. Channeling and directing it to a specific purpose, especially something as subtle as the hex they were hoping to cast on Shalana, was far more difficult.

  If Vaaler knows how to do this, then what else does he know? How much can he teach me? And how long will it take me to learn? And will it be harder because of my missing hand?

  Rexol had never focused on the importance of using physical gestures to control and shape a spell, but Keegan had noticed that it was something that happened almost unconsciously whenever he unleashed Chaos. A clenched fist; a raised arm; a finger pointed at a specific target: small, subtle things. But even subtle things could have major consequences when dealing with the mages’ art.

  “Did you see Scythe anywhere behind you?” Vaaler asked, interrupting Keegan’s train of thought.

  “No,” he said. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

  What if something went wrong? What if she was trying to get some hair or blood from Shalana and got caught?

  “I’m sure she’s okay,” Vaaler said, sensing Keegan’s apprehension. “She knows how to handle herself.”