The War of the Pyromancer

by P D Ceanneir

  ‘Oh, I see. For someone who knows about the future, you no doubt know all about this.’

  ‘I do, that should be your concern also. You play a significant part in his downfall.’

  This interested Telmar. ‘That’s good to know.’

  ‘There is also the enigma of this Lord Sernac,’ said Harlequin.

  ‘Who is he?’ asked Telmar as he got out of the bath and began towelling himself dry.

  ‘I have no idea,’ answered the Powerball. ‘There is no record of his identity in any of historical catalogues, but he is the creator of the Brethac Ziggurat.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘So is the countess. She is dangerous, master, be careful. I have a theory that they are Elementals.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘There are several within the order that I can detect. This Lord Sernac appears to be a Terraseer and has the ability to see the future. The countess is a Waternymph, I believe.’

  Telmar stared at the Powerball. Everything he said felt right; it would explain much of what he theorised anyway.

  ‘She has the ability to control minds; I have witnessed it for myself. She “converts” most of the nobles and powerful men to the Order’s cause with the merest touch,’ said Harlequin. ‘She may be the reason the order has grown quickly and quietly.’

  Telmar was about to ask a question when Harlequin’s light suddenly went out and he dropped into the bath. The doors to the bathing rooms opened and a naked Cinnibar walked in. She looked as if she had just woken up.

  ‘Are you talking to yourself, my love?’ she asked.

  ‘Well I am mad, am I not?’ he chuckled.

  The countess laughed with him and held out her arms. ‘Come back to bed.’

  Telmar threw away the towel, took her hand, and led her back to bed. He had much to think about and many secrets to unfathomed.

  Return to Tuen House

  “Despair, paranoia, fear, anxiety, pain and anger. These are the negative emotions that trigger a Pyromantic Surge.”

  Ness Ri on his notes about Havoc De Proteous Cromme’s curse.

  1

  Telmar described his stay with Cinnibar as his “Sojourn in Sonora”. He went about the task of deciphering the symbols and ciphers inside the Grymwards with his usual enthusiasm. He found out that, though they held many interesting observations by their authors on a plethora of subjects, there was little or nothing about a Hidden History of the Elementals. He kept this to himself however, so he could learn more about the Earth Daemon’s plans, and where the Brethac Ziggurat fitted into it.

  My family and I often saw him in those days when we visited Cinnibar in my youth. King Valient made annual visits to Sonora and, as always, his son would accompany him. Telmar and Cinnibar would always welcome us like an aunt and uncle and I always remember him hunched over his writing desk amidst a pile of books and parchment.

  The last time I saw him in Sonora was the month before I was to join the Academy of Rawn Arts. Father, as De Proteous, used his considerable influence within the academy’s council committee to admit children of royal blood at the tender age of seven to be “in house” trained before the official starting age of training at thirteen. This gave me, Hagan, and Kasan, a far greater advantage over the other students when we began the proper training with them. Certainly it aided my second oldest brother, Kasan, who would become a powerful Rawn Master in his own right

  On these visits my youngest brother, Hagan, was to fall in love with Sonora and my grandfather gave him the post of Sub-Warden of the Northern March under Marshal Praxes when he became a Rawn Master. Kasan, always a petulant and moody child, objected. Grandfather would eventually make him the Knight-Governor of the Pander Pass. This would also give him control of its forces should martial law ever be declared, which within a year of his accepting the post, it was. This made it possible for him to rise to the overall commander of the Rogun Army.

  The five years Telmar spent in Sonora was free of incident, although there was one occurrence that has a bearing on this story. It happened towards the end of his time there, and two years before the civil war began.

  He had ordered books from the Library of Aln-Tiss brought by sea to Sonora’s port. He, and two of his squires, waited on the dock for the cargo to be unloaded from the ship when a neighbouring slave frigate was unloading their human cargo at the same time. A line of a dozen straggly-bearded slaves, bare to the waist and manacled together, were being herded off the gangway by one of the slavers who was enthusiastically whipping them with his bullwhip. One such slave had fallen to his knees and the slaver franticly lashed him while telling him to get up. The big burly slave only flinched when the whip lacerated his bare back, but he did not scream.

  Telmar had seen enough, he and his squires walked over to the slaves. The stocky slaver was about to deliver one last crack when his whip was pulled out of his hand by a strong gust of wind. He watched amazed as it sailed through the air and landed in the hand of the tall, handsome, well-dressed baron walking towards him.

  ‘That’s enough!’ said Telmar, and threw the whip back at him.

  The slaver was no fool, he recognised nobility when he saw it and remained silent, head bowed. Telmar handed a skin of water to the kneeling slave and touched his bloody back, allowing the Water Element to heal the scars to white puckered scabs.

  ‘Thank you,’ said the slave after he’d taken a mouthful of water and stood up. He flexed his shoulders and felt no pain. ‘You are a Rawn?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, I am Telmar, Baron of Tressel, and you?’

  ‘Aelfric Cokato of the Hotten Isle Bear Clan.’

  ‘That’s a Hinterland name, is it not?’

  The slave nodded.

  ‘They are Sea-Dragons, my lord, raiders,’ said the slaver nervously. ‘They were captured six months ago just off the coast of Rattan Cleugh. They have been raiding the islands of the South Sea Horn for months.’ Sea-Dragons, regarded as fearsome raiders, were descendants of the Berserker Warriors of Hinterland. Their name came from the single-sailed, fifty-oar longboats with prows carved into the heads of water dragons, or Seadrakes to give them their Hinterland name.

  ‘Is this true?’ Telmar asked.

  Aelfric shook his head. ‘We were seeing off a flotilla of Sea-Dragon longboats when we were set upon by the Hoath Navy.’

  Telmar nodded. ‘Hotten Isle. That’s off the coast of Rattan Cleugh is it not?’

  ‘It is my lord; my people took refuge there since our own island was destroyed a hundred and fifty years ago.’

  ‘What happened to it?’

  Aelfric shrugged. ‘I know not, my lord, my people’s elders would be able to tell you.’

  Telmar turned to the slaver. ‘Where are they bound for?’

  ‘Dulan-Tiss, lord, they are part of the next Ancarryn. Their skills with a sword and axe are unmatched.’

  ‘As are yours with a whip,’ said Telmar sarcastically. The slaver merely bowed.

  Telmar gave him permission to go. He gave Elfric one last nod of goodbye as he shambled off with the others.

  Almost two years later, Telmar would be destined to meet Aelfric Cokato again, and their lives would never be the same.

  2

  Telmar would meet with the Earth Daemon on another two occasions. Each time he would rave in madness after every visit.

  On his second meeting, the entity repeated his commands to the Brethac Ziggurat, promising limitless wealth and power should they do his bidding. Telmar asked it about the Grymwards, but the entity seemed to deflect the question. This tied in with his knowledge of what was held within the Elders’ books. Most of them were not consistent, and he suspected several of them to be forgeries. He kept this to himself, however.

  He also made an in-depth study of the Blacksword in secret. The words of the prophecy may appear to apply to him, but he felt in his heart they did not. Therefore, he shelved the notes he had made to scrutinise later. What he did know was that the Earth Daemon feared this B
lacksword, the man or the weapon; he was not sure. Harlequin rarely answered any questions on the subject of the Sword that Rule. Harlequin only referred to the rules regarding the Principal Edict, and that the events in his future were closed to Telmar.

  His world inside Sonora became a time for reflection, and that time seemed to move fast. He also kept abreast of the world outside the citadel’s walls, because events outside were moving faster with the news he received each week.

  King Cambrian the first had died on the same year of Telmar’s arrival at Sonora. His son, Sallen, became the fourth king of the Vallkytes of that name and he wasted no time in stamping his royal authority.

  Firstly, he disbanded his father’s old parliament and, when it reformed four months later, Telmar discovered that the majority of its politicians were high-ranking members of the Brethac Ziggurat, giving the new king complete control over the nobles who filled the high positions of state. Sallen increased taxes on land, crops, and spirits. He threw the money into building wood mills, which churned out precision cut planks of wood to build ships for the Vallkyte Navy. He also issued an order to increase the standing armies by forcing young adults into their local levies for five years. This act caused family run businesses to feel the strain, as apprenticeship spaces for the various guilds lessened.

  King Sallen also ran a personal vendetta against the Baronial Charter. The strength of the Charter had been waning since its heydays prior to the Keveni-Marinet Debacle and was not as powerful as it once was. The king introduced a new Import and Export tax duty on all goods that rest for more than twenty hours a day in harbour warehouses and wharfs along his eastern seaboard. The Charter vehemently protested against this tax in the following year’s parliament, but all of its parliamentarians and lords were behind the king. Telmar later learned that four of the Charter’s barons were members of the Brethac Ziggurat and, excluding himself, were secretly exempt from the duty. When the other seven representatives of the Charter eventually found out about this, it caused a divide in their order that would never heal. Telmar could see this for what it was. The Brethac Order was forcing others to join its ranks and he judged that over eighty percent of the Vallkyte nobility, and about twenty of the Roguns, were now its members. He surmised, correctly as it turns out, the Brethac Ziggurat were making a bid for total dominance of the continent in honour of its Lonely God.

  And this worried him.

  King Sallen was to be one of the most unpopular kings in Vallkyte history. His taxes were crippling the economy and the city banks made huge profits through local merchants because of it. This sparked a series of riots within the walls of Dulan-Tiss between poorer labourers and the rich merchant Burgh Lords. The six month long Merchant Wars, as scholars called it, became a precursor for the forthcoming civil war and a sign of public discord against the growing power of the Vallkyte state.

  While the king was in the forefront of peoples minds, Duke Cormack and his ailing father, Beltane, worked unseen in the background to undermine everything Telmar’s great grandfather had done to keep his lands safe.

  They had started a run of little known law reforms that appeared harmless, but would have huge connotations for the future. One such act of the reforms was the “Outdated Laws Act” a bill designed to clean up unused and defunct laws that were causing annoying loopholes in prosecution cases. Clause forty-two was regarding Guarding Grants. Grants still in use received a lease year, or “Grandfather Rights”, before the ancient law finally became null and void. This meant that Holders would receive the period of one year’s notice before legally having to return the grant back to the issuer when the year was up or lose the right of the land to the crown.

  With all the trouble of Merchants War, and the hard-pressed city watch trying to keep order, a harassed Vallkyte Parliament passed the reforms within a month of them written out on parchment.

  All Duke Cormack had to do now was to wait.

  3

  Telmar, inside the walls of Sonora, was oblivious to all of this and, as the months ticked by, he continued to study the Grymwards, filling in reports for Cinnibar to read if he found anything new. Most of what he did discover was old history already recorded in the various books about the Dragor-rix. This disappointed the countess, so he forged a document to appease her, detailing the accounts of the Elemental War that she had already mentioned.

  Though he was not to know it, the last two months of the 2981 YOA was to be his last in Sonora. At the beginning of the first month he spoke to the Earth Daemon for the last time.

  He merged with the Cloud Orrinn and suddenly appeared on one of the floating islands of the Nexus. As usual, Cronos came to guide him to the entity, which had grown somewhat since the last time he had met it.

  What is it you wish to know now, Herald? It asked.

  ‘The Brethac Ziggurat has grown in power as you demanded,’ informed Telmar. ‘What is thy bidding?’

  Destroy the Blacksword!

  Telmar shook his head. ‘There is no Blacksword. It is just an ancient prophecy about a wandering prince and a sword of power.’

  The prince has Rage, roared the Earth Daemon, the prince has power and will use it to make the sword. Already these events ripple through the fabric of time, the Bani of the Blacksword exists everywhere, and time has no meaning to him. You know about time, do you not, Telmar?

  Telmar flinched.

  I have seen you at the opening of the Arch, it continued, I know of the Mastirton Maelstrom.

  Telmar was at a loss for words. Cronos stood beside him, impassive.

  ‘If you know of the Mastirton Maelstrom then what is stopping you from altering time?’

  Time Travel inside the Lifespan of the Earth Mother is linear. Only humans can perceive it as past, present and future. To me, all time is one moment.

  The baron understood. Lord Styx’s Grymward had speculated on the Dark Force of the Earth being a twin of the Earth Mother, a negative energy to her positive one. In a sense, he shared her lifespan and her moment in time.

  ‘I will mention to the Order the threat of the Blacksword, master,’ he said but did not intended to carry out that command. If the Blacksword was to exist then he was the only enemy the Earth Daemon had.

  ‘Is there anything else?’

  Find me a body, it said, one powerful enough for me to inhabit. Then I will walk amongst my people.

  Telmar was confused by this, but did not ask the entity to elaborate.

  ‘Once you are on the surface, what then?’

  I shall find the Five Who Speak and use them to create a Dark Tanis, my true body. Then I will become invincible.

  Telmar’s heart fluttered in his ribs. He had learnt from Styx’s Grymward what a Dark Tanis was, and it was something terrible that should not even exist.

  ‘You plan to destroy everything, don’t you?’

  That is my purpose. I am the Great Destroyer.

  Telmar nodded calmly. Inside, he was afraid. ‘I shall return and tell them,’ he said.

  At that moment he wondered if this Dark Entity was as mad as he was.

  4

  Yet, madness became an annoying and cloying thing on the edge of his thoughts; steady, malignant and oppressive. It even followed him into his dreams after his return from the Nexus…

  …the Door stood before him, grand and majestic, like some ancient museum piece for viewers to come, scrutinise, and talk about its neat symmetry, its fluted pillars and strange bluestone lintel. They would wonder why it looked the same on both sides, ponder the cryptic meaning of its Skrol and speculate at the subtle, almost imperceptible change in colour that the glossed door underwent; a change that few survived to tell the tale once it reached its final colour.

  Now, the Door was a deep beckoning black.

  ‘The final colour,’ whispered Telmar and chuckled through his insanity. It was also slightly ajar. Telmar did not bother to look inside. He knew that he would only see empty void.

  The Door looked pristine, untouched
, untarnished by the obvious destruction around it. It stood inside a domed room with many tiered seats enshrouding it in a half circle. The room was barely recognisable now, its seats burned, its walls and roof smashed. Telmar chuckled again. He recognised the room.

  The east-facing wall no longer existed. Beyond its gaping hole a vast city burned. The occupant of the Door had been unleashed!

  Telmar walked through the debris of pulverised stone. He giggled again, lips drooling. Madness made his eyes wide and his pupils shrunken to pinpoints. The wall’s opening beckoned. The screams of the dying rent the air as he stepped on what was once an ornate marble balcony, now half of it lay in ruins on the smashed rooftops of the adjoining annex several feet below him.

  He was not alone.

  Cronos watched the destruction, the darkness of the night sucked away vast swathes of the burning city. The only other light on that balcony, apart from an inner glow from the strange being, came from Harlequin who hovered beside the Sentinel of the Nexus.

  ‘It certainly has a penchant for destruction,’ remarked the Powerball.

  Cronos nodded, albeit sadly.

  ‘This would explain the many gaps in the many historical records where civilisations simply disappear mysteriously,’ continued Harlequin. ‘Few survive to witness the Helbringer.’

  ‘Helbringer?’ said Telmar, the madness evaporating as his interest in the word rose in him.

  Cronos turned towards him, though he did not look surprised at Telmar’s presence, his liquid white eyes betrayed shock.

  ‘Fascinating!’ said the Powerball. ‘His power is growing.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Cronos, ‘you should not be here, Telmar. This is an event in the future that should be forbidden to you.’

  ‘Forbidden…forbidden histories,’ Telmar giggled insanely.

  ‘The residual effects of the Nexus have still unpinned his mind,’ offered Harlequin by way of explanation.

  ‘Hmmmm…’ Cronos rubbed his chin in thought, ‘his Bani is very strong, stronger that most humans. Interesting.’

  ‘Bani?’ said Telmar. The distant screams were abating now. A loud alien roar from some gigantic behemoth echoed through the city’s burning buildings. Cronos ignored it.