Children of Prophecy

by Glynn Stewart

  His eyes swept the three Novices. “You must all remember that. To a certain extent, control can make up for lack of power, but power ill-applied is worse than no power at all.”

  He stood, gesturing the children in front of him. “Now we will go outside and, as I’m sure you’ll enjoy, practice basic fire magic.”

  Tal sat quietly in the courtyard, a chain of fire linking his spread hands while Kil’dare attempted to get Jer to create more fire than a spark. A small spark. He was unlikely to have any great success, Tal knew.

  His eyes swept the courtyard. It was nestled into the gap between the wall surrounding the Academy and the actual main buildings. Designed to function as both a training ground and a space for meeting new arrivals, the courtyard was paved with hard stone. Several braziers were scattered around.

  Shell stood next to one of the braziers, studiously ignoring both boys as she intently focused on a small fire she’d started in it. She watched it as if trying to learn how to reduce it to a simplicity she could understand and manipulate.

  Tal shivered in the late autumn cold, glancing up at the sky. Shivering, he moved over to one of the braziers. His head barely came over the top of it but when he released the fire he’d held between his hands, the brazier lit into a satisfactory, warm blaze.

  Kil’dare glanced up from his conversation with Jer, looking at the other two Novices.

  Tal noted the Battlemage assuring himself that his students weren’t about to burn the Academy down, and turning his eyes towards the gate. One of the Academy’s two Battlemage Initiates – fully trained, but still junior Mages due to their youth – was seated in the tower next to the gate, where he could identify anyone approaching. Tal’s gaze followed Kil’dare’s as it continued to sweep across the courtyard, and saw one of the other two full Battlemagi, the Initiate’s current master, crossing to join his apprentice.

  As the instructor turned back to Jer, and Tal returned his concentration to his fire magic, both stiffened as they sensed something. Tal glanced at the others. Shell looked disconcerted, like something had happened that she didn’t understand. Jer was looking confusedly at Kil’dare, wondering what was wrong.

  The group of Magi, both full and Novice, turned to look at the gate as a horseman rode up to it. The full Mage guarding the gate stepped up to it to speak to the rider, and then bowed deeply and gestured for his apprentice to open the gate.

  As the gate slid open, the horseman rode through. Tal’s eyes were irresistibly drawn to him. Though the horse looked like it had been ridden for some days, the white-haired rider’s black cloak was untouched by mud or other travel-stains. As the rider dismounted, the cloak swung open, revealing a lean man wearing the plain black tunic that was effectively the non-formal uniform of a Battlemage.

  It wasn’t the man that drew Tal’s eye. It was his amulet. For a moment, the boy wondered why a male Battlemage would be wearing jewelry, but then he noticed the nature of the design. A gold chain wrapped around the man’s neck, each chain holding a red gem. His eye quickly counted the links he could see, coming up with the guess of twenty-six links. Two of the links, the very front ones, were merely gold links, without the gem. At the very front of the amulet was a gem nearly three times the size of the others, and much more roughly cut. In fact, it almost appeared to be the shattered fragment of a larger gem.

  Even to Tal, the amulet radiated power. The other apprentices’ eyes also seemed drawn to it, with various degrees of consternation. They felt it too. Kil’dare looked like he felt it as well, but it seemed to mean more to him, for he immediately went to one knee.

  “Kneel,” he whispered to his students. Trained to obey, Shel and Jer did. Tal didn’t. He remained standing half-hidden behind the brazier.

  “Damn you, boy,” Kil’dare snapped. “Show some respect! That is the Hawk Car’raen!”

  The Hawk Car’raen, Hawk Mage, Battlemage, and sworn defender of the Kingdom of Vishni, surveyed the courtyard quietly. He sighed mentally at the sight of the kneeling Magi, but it was only to be expected. Very few Magi would dare his wrath by standing before him, whether he wished it or not.

  Then he saw him. A boy, perhaps seven or eight, stood half-hidden behind one of the braziers. A snapped command from the Mage had no apparent effect, as the child coolly met Car’s eyes. There was power behind those golden eyes; power, and a pride beginning to border on arrogance.

  The Amulet seemed to burst into song in the back of his head. What is this? He demanded of it.

  I am uncertain. The softly modulated mental tones of Car’raen’s immediate predecessor as Hawk, Jor’nial were almost soothing. It is similar to the recognition of the next Hawk, but different. We recognize him, but none of us can say why. Shar’tell may know, but he speaks the least, even of the truly Eld Ones..

  Great. You mean you know, but you don’t know? Car demanded of the minds in his amulet.

  I am sorry, Car, but we cannot tell you what it is, the dead Mage replied. Only that it is important. Incredibly so.

  The Hawk Car’raen, current successor of the Hawk Lord Shar’tell, sighed, and dismounted. He turned to the kneeling Mage and his students.

  A flick of power, and he identified the Mage’s power and status. “Get off the floor, Fox Mage. Your students too. I have no need to be reminded of who I am.”

  Car’s eyes turned to the boy. “Come out from behind there, boy.”

  The boy stepped out, brushing long light brown hair out of his eyes. “Sir,” he said shortly, defiantly.

  The Hawk shook his head slightly at the boy, wordlessly, and turned back to the Battlemage. “I did not intend to interrupt, Battlemage. I must speak with Head Ket’nir immediately.”

  “He is inside, Hawk Car’raen,” the teacher replied instantly.

  “Thank you.”

  Car turned back to the boy, still puzzled by him. “Novice, take my horse to the stables.”

  The Novice stared at him for a long moment, until the Battlemage behind Car hissed wordlessly. Then, finally, the boy nodded in acknowledgement. “Yes, sir.”

  Car’raen watched as the boy took the horse’s reins. Then he gathered his spell-woven cloak around himself against the cold, and headed towards the buildings at the center of the tiny fort.

  Ket’nir bowed as Car’raen entered the room. “We are honored by your presence, Hawk Car’raen.”

  Car’raen couldn’t help but smile slightly at the title. He was the only Mage alive described merely by their other form, their rank, without the honorific of ‘Mage’. Of course, he was unique. The amulet he bore carried the spirits of the twenty four men who’d borne the rank of Hawk before him, and the soul of the Hawk Lord Shar’tell, who had fought and died at the Battle of Drago Pass, giving his life to defend Vishni from his twin brother, the Master of Chaos.

  “Please, Mage Ket’nir,” Car said, raising his hand, “I get more than enough bowing and scraping whether I want it or not. I am merely a Mage, not a god.”

  Ket’nir’s head bobbed, as he stifled a bow before it finished. A dry smile crossed Car’s face.

  “I was brought here by the Amulet,” he told the older Mage, “and I am not certain why.”

  “The Hawk Amulet brought you here?” Ket’nir looked shocked. “Do you have any clues as to why?”

  “It has something to do with that boy outside,” Car replied, gesturing towards the window looking out onto the courtyard, through which the Head would have seen all that transpired in the courtyard, “the one who refused to bow. The Amulet recognized him somehow, but the Hawks could not tell me why or how. Who is he?”

  The Academy Head shrugged. “His name is Tal.”

  Car looked up. “I know it is your policy to only address the students by prename, but if you could tell me his patronym, it might be useful.”

  “He doesn’t have a patronym,” Ket’nir admitted with a shrug.

  “Bastard?” The patronym was the family name, usually of the father.

  “We don’t know. He
was left in a basket on the steps of the Lady’s Abbey in Telnar just over seven and a half years ago now.” While not a daily, or even weekly, occurrence, this was not an uncommon event. When the mother of a child knew she couldn’t care for it, and wanted to give the child the best life possible, she would give it to the Order of the Lady of Life, Lilitha Andrela. The Order would raise them as a monk. Monks were celibate and lived in service to the people of Vishni, but it was not a bad life, better than many poor women could offer an unexpected offspring.

  “When he began to show signs of the gift, the monks of the Lady’s Order asked us to test him,” Ket’nir continued. This was normal, and one of the few benefits a child raised among the Order could hope for. “He was tested, and showed promise, so we took him in.”

  “All right,” Car’raen accepted with a nod. “What else can you tell me?”

  “He is just over seven and a half years old,” Ket’nir said quietly. “He has been with us for three years, and has been our Novice for just over two now. His power is astonishing. Notwithstanding our full Battlemagi and Initiates, he is the most powerful Death Mage in this Academy, and he is far from his full power. I am the only Life Mage here capable of blocking his power. I’ve had to do it on several occasions.”

  The Hawk turned back from the window to look at Ket’nir. “You blocked him?” he asked softly. “Why?”

  “The boy suffers from nightmares,” the Head explained carefully. “He has a tendency to unleash full power Battlemagic – often spells he doesn’t even know – when he does. While his room and bedclothes are shielded, on three occasions he has come extremely close to overloading those shields, in his sleep. The last one of those incidents was just last night.”

  “The Blood.” Car’s words were quiet.

  Ket’nir nodded unwillingly. “Yes, he shows all the signs of bearing the Blood of the Twain,” he admitted. “He will be a Hawk Mage, I can tell that already. The most powerful Battlemage here is a Wolverine.”

  “Your people can’t train him,” Car’raen said softly. A Mage of relatively pure descent from the two demi-god-like mythical figures whose ancient conflict still shaped the Kingdom was rare – the bloodlines were diluted by now, but fluke still produced a child or two every generation who showed their power and curses – often from a completely different family than the last such Mage. “He won’t listen to a Mage weaker than him.”

  “Exactly,” the Academy’s master agreed. “But we could find no alternative.”

  “You have one now,” Car told Ket’nir. “I will take him as my apprentice.”

  “Milord, do you have time for such?” the Head asked carefully.

  Car considered. The Hawk was the direct successor of much of the prestige of the Hawk Lord himself. As such, he had many duties and responsibilities. However, “These are peaceful times, Ket’nir,” he said simply. “The Long War seems to have reached one of its quieter phases, and there have been no major incursions for years. Also, for a boy of this power, I will make time. The Amulet says there’s something special about him, and he needs a master of great power.”

  “He would not normally be apprenticed until he is an Initiate, at least four years from now,” Ket’nir said. He didn’t sound like he was objecting; only observing. There were reasons for that delay, after all. It usually took that long to establish a Novice’s power. While a strong Novice was rarely a weak Mage, it was far from uncommon for a weak Novice to be a very powerful Mage.

  “At his level of power, it is necessary that he be apprenticed sooner,” Car’raen said firmly. “I will take him, it is decided.” He paused, considering for a moment. “Also, record in your records that his name is now Tal’raen.”

  “You will adopt him?” the Head asked, seeming somewhat perturbed.

  “It seems the best way to control him,” Car replied. “What he will not listen to in a teacher, he may be prepared to hear from a father.”

  Ket’nir bowed, and gestured out towards the courtyard. “Then we must tell him, Hawk Car’raen.”

  Car watched as the Head stepped out of the building, and called Tal to him. He heard the Mage’s words to the boy through the window.

  “Come Tal, there’s someone you need to meet.”

  It took a minute or so for the Head and his student to return to the office, in which he considered his decision, searching it for flaws. He couldn’t find any, and he knew from past experience that if the older Hawks had, they would tell him. They rarely hesitated to.

  Once the boy entered the room, the Hawk studied him silently. Form Sight, and a few far less common, less well-known, abilities. He nodded to himself. The boy had potential. Indeed, he possibly had more potential than that of any boy Car’raen had seen in all of his fifty-three years.

  Ket’nir stopped and gestured Tal in front of him. “Novice Tal, be known to the Hawk Car’raen,” he said simply.

  Tal inclined his head, barely. “Your honor.”

  The Head turned to the Novice. “He will be staying the night, and leaving in the morning,” Ket’nir told Tal. “When he leaves, you will go with him.”

  Car tried not to wince at the consternation on the boy’s face.

  He doesn’t realize the honor at all, does he? Jor’nial’s mental voice was dryly amused.

  That poor boy thinks he’s being expelled, Jor. Car’s mental voice was tinged with slight exasperation. The dead Hawks tended to be less respectful and much less considerate than the living man who had to actually deal with the people they spoke of.

  “Don’t be worried, Tal,” Car said quietly. “You aren’t being punished, quite the opposite. You are to become my apprentice.”

  “I thought you weren’t apprenticed until you were an Initiate?” Tal asked. That the boy spoke at all at this point was a measure of his guts and willpower.

  “Normally, no,” Car agreed drily. “For Magi of your power, however, exceptions are made” – he met the boy’s eyes as he paused, then continued – “to minimize the damage to those around you.”

  Ket’nir looked Tal in the eye. “Also, Car’raen has agreed to officially adopt you,” he told the boy. “From now until the day that you die, you shall bear the name Tal’raen.”

  Car sensed the boy reeling. Too much had hit him at once. He reached out and clasped the Novice by the shoulder. “Relax, boy. I don’t bite. Now go pack, we’ll be leaving in the morning.”

  The shock of the last few minutes wrenched a full bow from Tal, the first real show of respect Car had seen from the child. The boy didn’t quite run from the room, but it was close.

  There’s hope yet. Jor observed. He has the power, and he could learn discipline. He might just be the greatest Death Mage I, at least, remember.

  Car’raen nodded, almost unwillingly. Yes. But if he is, just what course is that poor child condemned to?

  Tal paused one last time on the threshold of his cell, looking back to be certain he’d missed nothing. The contents of his small chest, a few books and some small treasures, were in the saddlebags at his feet. For the last three years, this room had been his home. Even the slight itch of the powerful shielding spells bound into the walls had become a comfort.

  Now, some complete stranger had come into his life, and turned it upside down. Tal’raen sighed, feeling the weight of his new name fall into place on him. He’d always known he was an orphan, but now he had a master, and a kind of father.

  He felt tears prickling at his eyes, and let them flow. For a moment, he let his fears take him as water flowed down his cheeks. Finally, Tal controlled himself with a deep breath. It was time for him to go.

  As he turned to leave, he paused one last time. He recited a small prayer to Lilitha Andrela, the Lady of Life, asking her to show him the way forward.

  When he’d finished, he picked up the saddlebags and stepped over the threshold of his home.

  Car’raen was waiting in the stables, overseeing the saddling of one of the Academy’s horses.

  Tal had spent a
lot of time in the Academy’s stables, for various reasons, and recognized the horse. A white-chested chestnut mare, her name was Stella. She was also his favorite among the horses here, and Tal wondered just how much of a coincidence that was.

  The Hawk turned, and noticed his new apprentice. “Tal, come here,” he instructed.

  Tal quickly obeyed the order, hustling over to the old Mage, his saddlebags bouncing off each other on his back. “Yes, sir?” he asked quietly once he’d reached Car.

  With a gentle smile, Car nodded towards the mare. “You know Stella here, I’m told,” he said.

  “Yes sir,” his apprentice confirmed.

  “Well, she’s yours. A gift from Ket’nir.”

  Tal looked towards the stable groom for confirmation. The wizened old man nodded, smiling at the boy.

  “I presume you can ride, boy,” Car said, his voice turning the statement into a question.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” Car paused. When he continued, a note of amusement tinged his voice. “The proper address, boy, would actually be, ‘yes, master,’ but do not be too concerned.”

  “Yes, master,” Tal replied, lowering his head, hoping that he had not displeased this man, who now held Tal’s future in his hands.

  Car gestured towards Stella. “Get ready, boy. We have quite a ways to ride, and I want to get started soon.”

  Tal hefted his saddlebags and nodded, already moving towards the horse.

  The Academy stood just outside the city of Telnar, capital of the Duchy of Telnar, placed there like a sentinel or a brooding stone watchdog. The small, fortified compound seemed small compared to the sheer immensity of the city walls, less than a kilometer away.

  According to Tal’s lessons, forts similar to the Academy, though most were smaller and without the teaching function, were scattered throughout the Kingdom of Vishni, providing a powerful reaction presence for local defense, a strong law enforcement force, and rapid healing magic from the forts’ Life Mage healers.