Magic After Dark: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Margo Bond Collins

  Bodies lay in heaps on the ground, and smashed and trampled items had been taken from the homes and strewn about as if the creatures had been searching for something. Or someone. There were the smoking remains of homes he had visited, including the one he had lived in. And there were the corpses of his mother and father, the latter right in front of him and the former just a few feet away.

  One of the shapes nearby moved and Aeden started. It was Fahtin, still sitting almost motionless where she had retreated earlier. How long had she been sitting there waiting for him? Hours, surely.

  He stood and shook his legs out. He stamped them to regain circulation and while he did so, she stood as well. Her liquid eyes met Aeden’s seeking ones. He put both arms out and she rushed to him, enfolding him in a hug, squeezing him tight. Though he thought he had none left, tears began to fall again, dripping onto her shoulder and wetting her hair. She made soothing noises and stroked his red-brown hair. Some of the tension left him as he clutched her.

  They stood like that for a long time, his tears finally drying out. He took a deep breath, catching the scent of her wet hair mixed with the smell of death and the smoke from the village. Lifting his head, he pulled away from her and smoothed her hair back from her face.

  “I seem to have gotten your hair wet,” he said. “Sorry.”

  She sniffled, wiped the wetness from her own eyes, and shrugged. “It needed washing anyway. It was dirty from travel.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Thank you. For being here, for letting me be earlier, for the hug.”

  She nodded. “I wish I could take the pain from you, but I don’t know how.”

  “It’s fine, Fahtin. Warriors are used to death. The pain reminds us of those we lost. It was a precious privilege to speak with my father again, one last time.” He looked down at his right wrist and the tattoo there.

  She eyed him warily, as if unsure if she should speak. “Aeden, what is that? Where did it come from?”

  He forced a sad smile. “It was my father. He, as an elder and clan chief, could declare that I had passed the Trial of Magic. Finally. He cast the spell and gave me the marking. I am now officially a warrior of Clan Tannoch. Maybe the last one alive in the world.”

  “You have had your questions answered, then?”

  “I had the one that is more important answered,” he said. “My father spared me, defied the laws and traditions of the clan, because he loved me and believed in me. He was not weak and he was not an incompetent warrior. In fact, he saved me by his actions, in two ways. First from death at his hands and second from this,” he motioned at the scene around him, “death at the hands of these creatures.” He kicked one of the monstrous bodies.

  “Let’s go, Fahtin,” he said. “There is nothing here for me now.”

  Darun and other members of the family helped Aeden and Fahtin drag the bodies to a pit, in which they had put as much wood as they could find in the village. After they were all laid on the tinder, the fire was lit, and a massive pyre burned the bodies. The black creatures they left for the scavengers to tear apart as they rotted. With a backward glance as they headed down the road, Aeden saw the fire that consumed the people of his village. The flames etched themselves into his memory, a final, fitting monument to the finest warriors in the world.

  The caravan made its way to the next village, one belonging to the Ailgid clan. It was two days away on the road they took, and as they traveled, they saw signs of the monsters that had left his own village. The shredded carcasses of sheep and cattle littered areas that had been grazing land, and the occasional human corpse was also seen.

  Aeden noticed that none of the dead seemed to have been eaten, other than when they spotted a few feasting ravens. These black things killed but did not kill to eat. They slaughtered whatever they found for another reason. But what was it?

  When they made it to the village of the Ailgid, they found a similar sight to what they had found at Aeden’s Tannoch village.

  “We are turning back,” Darun said. “We can’t continue to go into Crow lands if these creatures are going about killing all the clans. If whole villages of clan warriors can’t survive battle with them, we surely can’t.”

  Aeden understood. Trade was one thing, but it was obvious the monsters had infested the highlands. “I understand,” he told the caravan leader. “You owe them nothing. Nor do I. My own clan was slaughtered. These,” he pointed toward the village from where they had stopped on the road, “are at best distant cousins. I don’t fancy meeting an army of the black creatures.”

  The caravan turned back, heading west again, out of the highlands, the lands of Aeden’s birth. He gave a mental goodbye to his family and the life he had known when he was a child and fixed his sight ahead.

  Two weeks later, the creatures found them.

  Chapter 23

  The caravan had stopped to camp for the night. They had not halted for more than one night at a time since they had seen the effects of the slaughter in the highlands, and they traveled long hours each day. It was obvious that Darun wanted to put as much distance as he could between himself and the monsters that had slaughtered entire clans of warriors.

  They had settled down and were beginning preparations for the evening meal when a scream broke the air. Looking toward the source of the noise, Aeden saw a flash of black. Seconds later, a small group of the same type of creatures whose corpses he had seen in his village ran through the camp, attacking everyone in their path.

  Their forms varied, though they all shared the dark color. Some were dark gray, while some were the deepest black. Some had hair bristling all over their bodies and some had very little. Large and bulky, small and thin, it seemed their forms were as different as those of people. In general, they were all humanoid, though some ran on all fours like animals.

  What they all shared was speed and a savagery that shocked Aeden. He stood there, transfixed, as passing attackers tore several of the men of the family almost in two. They all seemed to be coming straight at him.

  One of the monsters stopped and looked into Aeden’s eyes. It screamed something in a language he didn’t understand and pointed right to him. The others turned from their grisly work and galloped toward him as well. They seemed to have picked him out as the biggest threat.

  Fahtin was there next to him, a knife in each hand. Aeden caught the shadow of Raki skulking around off to his left. When the first creature got close, it suddenly sprung two knives, one in each eye. It dropped to the ground. As Aeden drew his swords and started to engage the others, he saw out of the corner of his eye that the thing got back up, pulled the blades from its head, tossed them aside, and started lumbering toward him again.

  He dodged a clawed hand and struck out with his swords, removing the claw from its arm. The bulk of the monsters had reached him, and he began methodically dancing through them, dodging strikes and attacking at each opportunity. His blades were a blur as he cut and slashed at the creatures. When he emerged from the other side of the charge, he expected to find only bodies where his attackers had been.

  Instead he found creatures, with wounds that should have killed them, turning to attack him again. Two of their number had vanished, simply disintegrated. The others were still there, though, and coming at him.

  Aeden dove in again, dodging and attacking in turns. What had he done to the ones that disappeared? What type of wounds had he inflicted on them? Was it only certain wounds that would destroy them, perhaps taking their head or striking some vital area? He couldn’t remember. He would have to pay attention and figure it out. If he could survive these attacks.

  Despite the few that disappeared, the number of creatures grew. A gash to his left shoulder brought his mind back from his musings, reminding him he was in a life-or-death struggle. Luckily, they were concentrating on him. Those creatures attacking other family members were slaughtering the Gypta without much effort, though the men—and in some cases women—fought bravely. He had to do something, or the en
tire caravan would be killed. Even he would be overwhelmed soon if he could not figure out how to kill the monsters.

  It occurred to Aeden what his father had said. “Only the blood magic has any effect on them.” The magic. He called it up, almost getting slashed by one of the creature’s claws as he went through the motions of the spell he was trying to use.

  Fire lashed out from him as he pronounced the word of power, slamming into one of the creatures, making it screech. He held the power, willed it to be stronger, and finally the thing burst into flames, fell to the ground, and lay still. He got a slash across his back for his troubles.

  For a time, he could only fight with his weapons, relying on his body to do as he had trained it. Two dozen of the creatures surrounded him, too many to reach him at once. He saw that some of them were turning to look for other targets. Two started toward Fahtin and Raki, who had been throwing blades and other projectiles at the mass of enemies from the side.

  One of the black creatures opened its mouth and displayed a wicked smile, yellowed, sharp teeth dripping with saliva. If Aeden didn’t do something soon, his friends would be killed. He tried to calm his mind, but couldn’t force the thoughts of his friends in danger out of it. His own life was of little value. He would gladly trade it for his two friends. But even doing so, it would not save them. He had to calm himself and use the magic.

  And so, he sang.

  He had found that singing, especially singing the Song of Prophecy, had become for him a type of meditation. It calmed him, energized him, and made him feel more powerful than at any other time. So, he sang. Loudly. Forcefully. Aggressively. And as he did, the magic rushed into him and consumed him.

  The creatures around him, including the two who were going toward his friends, paused. As one, their heads swiveled to him. A few sniffed as if catching the scent of food. It was all Aeden needed.

  Sheathing his swords in the scabbard at his back in one quick motion, his hands began to make complex gestures. They flew from motion to motion, smooth as water and fast as lightning. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he allowed the magic to dictate his actions. As he sang, other words entered his mind and went directly to his mouth. Words he had never heard or said.

  They felt like the words in the Song, sounded to him like they would be the same language, but he didn’t know their meaning or origin. They rushed from his mouth, and he could almost see them swirling around him in a grand torrent, a whirlpool of power.

  It was only seconds that the power had been building. He shouted the final word as his hands stopped their rotation and ended the circular motion with a final push outward. Magic exploded out of him.

  The creatures could not stand in the force of it for even a fraction of a second. As the power rocketed outward, a loud detonation shook the entire campsite, throwing Raki and Fahtin back and rocking the nearby wagons on their wheels. The world spun for Aeden, and he lost sight of everything as all around him seemed to whirl into a wash of colors.

  When his vision cleared, Aeden was standing in the middle of the camp, alone. Shreds of black flesh lay in a circle around him, but no more of the creatures were in sight. He crumpled to one knee, putting his hand on the ground for support.

  It was finished. For now.

  Chapter 24

  It was only a few minutes before those not in the immediate area came to see if there were any more of the creatures. Aeden was still on one knee, fist on the ground, eyes closed.

  “Aeden?” Fahtin said as she came near him. Good, at least she was not injured in his magical explosion.

  “I’m fine, just a bit tired.” He felt her hand on his shoulder.

  “Come, sit over here. We’ll get you something to drink. To eat, too, if you like.”

  He allowed her to tug him to his feet and followed her to a chair that she righted next to the fire pit. His legs were unsteady, but the weakness was passing, becoming general fatigue as if he had spent an entire morning in hard training. When he reached the chair, he sat heavily in it, put his elbows on his knees, and took his head between his palms. He closed his eyes and squeezed with his hands. It seemed like a good idea, but it didn’t help much.

  “Aeden?” Fahtin handed him a cup of water Raki had fetched. “What happened?”

  “They wouldn’t die,” he said, “just as my father told me. I nearly severed the heads of several of them and they just got back up and came at me again.”

  “I saw that,” she said. “I buried several knives in eyes or in chests, and it didn’t faze them in the least. But what happened, at the end there?”

  Aeden opened his eyes and looked at her. There were more than a dozen people around him. “My father said the only thing that killed them was the clan magic. So, I used it.”

  “I thought you couldn’t use the magic. Isn’t that why you were cast out, for failing your trial?”

  “Aye. In the last few months, though, it came alive in me. Ever since I started singing the Bhagant. It somehow removed the block I had within me. I’ve been practicing with it, but have never been able to use it so powerfully.”

  He noticed Jehira off to the side. The old woman was nodding her head, a knowing look in her dark eyes.

  “What changed?” Fahtin asked. “Why were you able to use it like that?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” he said. “Maybe it was because of the danger, maybe because others were being killed. I think it had to do with the Song, though. Just before I used it, I was singing the Song, almost like a battle cry. It made the power build up in me.”

  “Whatever the reason,” Darun said, just coming up to him, “your actions have saved the family. I just checked on the others. There are seven dead and four more injured. For the amount of time the monsters were here, that is remarkable.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t faster,” Aeden said, thinking of those killed because of his delay.

  “Nonsense,” Darun said. “Without your magic, the entire family would have been killed in minutes. They weren’t interested in us, though. They only killed those in the way as they went for you. If you hadn’t battled with them in a…ummm, more conventional way, they would not have been close enough to be caught in your magic. We are fortunate there were not more casualties and also that you were here. We could have easily ended up like the villages we saw in the highlands.”

  Darun was probably right. Still, Aeden didn’t like it that people were killed.

  “I was just targeted because they picked me out as the best fighter,” he said.

  “I don’t think so, Aeden,” Darun said. “Things had barely gotten started when they diverted their attention to you. No, it seemed like they knew you were here and that’s why they came. Maybe they have something against the clans?”

  Aeden opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

  “No,” a voice said.

  Jehira walked slowly to the two men. “It was not accident, and it was not in search of clan warriors that they came.”

  “What do you mean, Jehira?” Darun asked.

  “It is he they came to find.”

  “How could you know that? Did you have a foretelling?

  “No,” she said. “It is because it was prophesied to be so.”

  Aeden’s eyes locked on hers. She did not blink, did not look away. She looked deeply into his eyes. He could almost hear her thoughts.

  “It is the Song. The Bhavisyaganant. It foretells these events. I was unsure before, but no longer.”

  “Which parts of the Song?” Aeden asked. “There is nothing in the parts I have translated yet that mentions this.”

  “It is later. You know the words in Dantogyptain, but not their meaning.

  Golga ua rotta aun utta

  Malatirsay moirum vistas

  Dah morita sai ma dah stirota sai tutta

  Sunha dah apruta sai jintoka

  Aruna dah arjisteta sai, Animaru

  Prein Malatirsay dah dheta dara sai

  Mortiyu ko sabmen per sarakr />
  Epradotant nata ka deh dah dregutota dara sai”

  “But what do they mean?” Darun asked. “Translate them for us, Jehira. We must know.”

  “Translation from the ancient languages is not a simple matter. At times, a single word in Dantogyptain may only be explained by twenty words in Ruthrin. For other passages, there may not exist an accurate way of expressing the original meaning. Any ‘translation’ is flawed, thus have I been teaching Aeden the language so that he may understand not just words, but the soul of the Song, the heart of the prophecy.”

  “Yes, yes,” Darun said. “Please, Jehira. We have family members who are dead, others injured. We must know about this. We could still be in danger. There are more of these creatures out there. Any information on them could help us survive.”

  Jehira looked from Darun to Aeden. She sighed.

  “Very well. I will tell you of two of the passages, but you must understand that what I say is the barest of meanings. The ancient languages are rich in ambiguity and symbolism, the songs and prophecies even more so.”

  “We will remember.”

  Jehira closed her eyes and was silent for a moment, other than a whispered sound that she made as she moved her mouth, going over the words of the Song.

  “Here are the bones of what the passages say:

  Hero from east and north

  Malatirsay faces death

  Dying but living still

  Learns the secret to prevail

  Darkness comes, the Animaru

  Searching for Malatirsay

  Death to all those in the path

  Hunting and killing their foe.”

  “What is this ‘Malatirsay’ and ‘Animaru’?” Darun asked. “Those do not sound like Gypta words.

  “They are not,” Jehira said. “They are from another language, as ancient or more so than Dantogyptain. ‘Malatirsay’ means, roughly, Chosen Warrior, Unique Warrior, Special Warrior. You get the idea. The form of it makes it clear this is a title, not just a label. This is the one the prophecy speaks of throughout the Song, the one who can prevent the end of the world.”