Children of Prophecy

by Glynn Stewart

  The two riders turned away from the city, riding towards the Royal High Road, one of the dozens that carefully linked the major cities of Vishni together, allowing rapid deployment of the High King’s Army, Ducal troops, or even Battlemage Triads to suppress banditry or outside attack by the Swarm.

  All of this Tal had learned in his classes, but he’d never seen a High Road in real life, and the dry words of his books and teachers didn’t prepare him for its immensity.

  A ten-meter wide smooth stone surface, designed for the marching boots of infantry or the wheels of wagons and carriages, made up the center of the road. Flanking it on either side was a five-meter section of road-grass, a plant some long ago Life Magi had created to be the perfect surface for a horse to run on. The interlocking mesh of blue-green strands provided a surface of just the right elasticity to provide traction and protection for the horses’ hooves, even when wet.

  It wasn’t any one portion of the Road that awed Tal – it was all of it. As he and his new father turned onto the road-grass portion of the Road, his eyes swept along it. The Road didn’t bend, turn, curve, or anything. As straight and flat as the surface of Coran Fesh the Smith-God’s anvil, it seemed to stretch out for eternity.

  Tal didn’t realize he’d stopped to stare until Car rode back towards him.

  “It is impressive, isn’t it?” his master said. “There are, I believe, fifteen High Roads, linking together the entire Kingdom. Proof of what planning, ingenuity, magic and sheer human effort can produce.”

  “Yes, master,” Tal said quietly.

  “Come on, it’s a long way home.”

  Home. Tal’raen nodded. Maybe when they got there, he would find out why people attached such sentiment to that word.

  Tal walked out of the tent. Things seemed strange, smaller somehow. He looked down at a drag on his side, to find a sword resting on his belt. The weapon was unadorned, plain steel, yet seemed to seethe with colors he didn’t think were normally in steel.

  He was dressed in full armor. He wasn’t sure why, but he was aware that it was stunningly heavy, and, like the sword, was unadorned steel, seething with strange colors.

  Then he suddenly began to walk, without conscious decision. He appeared to be in some sort of vast encampment, a random mishmash of tents and wagons onto which a twisted kind of order had been superimposed. Beyond the boundaries of the tent camp, he could sense something even greater, even more twisted, the main part of this army.

  A man dressed in inconstant purple stepped out to him and bowed. “Master, we have taken prisoners.”

  “Good.” The voice that came from his lips wasn’t his. It was older, much deeper – and cold. It was so very cold. “Bring them to me.”

  The man bowed. He left, and returned within moments, leading a chained together group of children and old men and women. He spoke again. “All those of prime age fought to the death against our force. These only were captured.”

  “It is enough.” That cold voice once more came from his lips. He felt himself step forward as a magic wove itself within him.

  Tal somehow knew what was going to happen before it did, but could do nothing. The body he looked out through didn’t answer to his commands. Tingling lines of chaos light lanced out from his fingers, wrapping themselves around the prisoners. The light began to pulse, as it drained the life from then.

  The elders died first, completely drained. The children didn’t last much longer, their unformed life force too vulnerable to this attack.

  All through this, Tal screamed and could not be heard.

  Then the scene was gone, replaced by the far-too-familiar shadowy room, and the same inconstant shadow.

  “No!” Tal was still screaming.

  “That is what you are, boy. It is your destiny, and what you are meant to be. You carry the Master’s blood,” the shadow hissed sibilantly at him.

  “Never!” He screamed at it. “I will never be that!” Fire lanced from his hands at the shadow, battering at it.

  The shadow laughed, and shrugged off the flame. “The more you deny it, the more you become your destiny. The more you become me.”

  Tal jerked awake, panting and screaming at the same time. Fire sparked uncontrollably from his fingers and threatened to ignite the bedding.

  The sparks had no effect. They petered out before they’d gone more than a few inches from him. As the sparks and hyperventilation faded, Tal recognized the signs of an antimagic shield.

  He slowly looked up, tears standing in his eyes as they met Car’raen’s. “I will never be that!” he swore to the night.

  Car’raen nodded, and gestured for the boy to sit. “I can recognize somewhat of what might have caused that, boy,” he admitted, “but I suggest you tell me about it.”

  Tal looked up at his master, uncertain how far he could trust this man. It was the look in Car’s eyes that decided him. It wasn’t the controlled fear or anger of the Magi at the Academy, their reactions to the damage he inflicted; it was the concern of a man who knew what he suffered. A man who might just be able to help.

  Tal told him.

  Car sat back cross-legged, feeding the fire with more wood as the boy finished telling him what he’d seen. “All right,” he said as Tal finished. “I do know those dreams. I shared similar ones myself when I was younger.”

  “You did?” The boy looked at him sharply, and Car smiled in amusement.

  “Yes, I did. They’re a marker of your membership in a group even rarer than even the Magi.” Car sighed. “What do you know of the Twain?”

  “The Hawk Lord and the Drake Lord,” Tal recited. “They were the greatest Death Mage and the greatest Chaos Mage to ever to live. They killed each other at Drago Pass, a long time ago.”

  “Right,” Car agreed softly. “There are a few more facts you should know about them. Firstly, they were twin brothers.”

  “Brothers? And they killed each other?!” Tal looked shocked.

  “Yes. Ties of blood don’t always bind as strongly as we would like,” Car told him sadly. “The two were effectively equal in power, each vastly more powerful than any other Mage who was alive then or has lived since. They clashed, and argued, and one fell into temptation. Hence the Battle of Drago Pass, which was almost exactly a thousand years ago now, by the way.

  “They left a legacy behind, though. Neither of them were chaste men, and between them they left quite an assortment of children behind. Those children, and their descendants, are the bearers of the Blood of the Twain, which carries a gift – and a curse. That same Blood flows in your veins.

  “The gift of the Blood is power. The greatest Magi since the Twain have all been of the Blood. Its curse is the flipside of that same coin, corruption. It is… far too easy for a Mage, especially one of the Blood, to fall to chaos.

  “The nightmares are part of the curse. They are our own, personal, temptation, and can be our destruction. They are the Master of Chaos speaking to us, trying to bring us down his path.”

  The boy shuddered. “Do we ever see the Hawk Lord?”

  Car smiled bitterly, and touched the central gem in his amulet. “In two senses, yes. In the first, from the Blood we gain the stubbornness of the Hawk Lord, that we may choose our own paths.” Car trailed off, staring into the fire before him.

  You’re telling him too much. Jor’nial said. He’s just a boy, he’ll forget most of what you say to him tonight.

  It doesn’t matter. Some he will remember, some I will teach to him again. He has the right to know, Car snapped back at the voice in his head.

  “What’s the second sense?”

  “Hmm?” Car looked up at Tal’s question.

  “You said there were two senses in which we saw the Hawk Lord. What’s the second?”

  “This,” Car told him running his fingers along his amulet. “The central gem is the largest fragment of the blood crystal the Hawk Lord used to kill his brother. It contains some of both his soul and his power. In each generation, one man has
borne the Amulet, adding his knowledge and power to it when he dies. The amulet marks the Hawk, who stands for the Hawk Lord.” He smiled gently at the boy. “In a way, when you look at me you see him. He’s in the Amulet. He’s not that vocal, but he is there.”

  The Hawk Car’raen put another stick on the fire. “It appears that we are not going to be going back to sleep, so why don’t we do some control exercises? You do appear to need them.” He tried to take the sting out of his words with a smile.

  Tal nodded silently, and moved closer to the fire. “What do you want me to do?”

  The next night, they began the lessons soon after they’d finished setting up camp. Car began Tal with a series of simple exercises, focusing and power-touching.

  It took Tal less than three attempts to focus on his power through a burning branch to throw it down in frustration. “What’s the point of this junk?” he demanded. “I can already access my power perfectly well.”

  Explain to him, Car, Jor said. Use small words, he might even understand.

  Car’raen sighed. “Yes, Tal, you can. Now.”

  Tal caught the emphasis. “What do you mean, ‘now’?”

  “You are accessing your power through a link that is only available to young Magi who, at some point in their family tree, are descended from a Chaos Mage. It’s a link through Chaos.” Car met Tal’s eyes, which seemed edged with a touch of fear. “It includes most, if not all, members of the Blood, since Jar’tell was a Chaos Mage. At the moment, given your youth and strength, Chaos is merely used as a channel. It isn’t tainting your power or you – yet.”

  “However, as you grow older, if you continue to access your power this way, it will become less and less Order magic that you touch, and more and more Chaos – until you touch nothing else. At that point, it will consume you until all that remains of your soul is a husk, animating your body to the darkest of deeds.” Car continued to hold his apprentice’s eyes. “Now do you understand why I want you to do this?”

  Tal nodded, his eyes suddenly wide as he grabbed another burning branch from the fire, focusing on it like his life depended on it.

  What do you know, he can learn, Jor observed.

  Three days later, they left the High Road, taking to a dirt track up into the hills. The hills were covered in a dense forest, and the track they followed seemed to be the only break in the trees and underbrush. Still, the track seemed well traveled, the dirt packed to the consistency of stone by feet and hooves.

  “What is up here that brings so many people?” the boy asked.

  “Gold,” Car replied. “This path leads up to several mines in the hills. There’s a few farming towns up here as well, and they add to their resources by shipping lumber and stone, along with the gold from the mines, down to the plains.”

  “You live up here?” Tal asked.

  “I own ‘up here’, as you put it,” Car told him softly. “We’re in the lands of the Raen family. In my lands, actually, as I was the last of that line until I adopted you. Now you will inherit these lands once I die.” Tal looked up to catch Car’s gentle smile. “That won’t be anytime soon, Tal, so don’t worry about it too much,” the old Mage said gently. “Besides, the people up here are a loyal and trustworthy bunch. I ask little of them, and so they would give me all that they could.”

  Car nodded to Tal. “You’ll like them. Come on.” He put his heels to his horse, urging it up to a canter.

  That afternoon, Tal’raen met some of ‘those people’ for the first time. They came around a bend in the road as it twisted its way through a denser than average bit of forest, and almost rode straight into a group of three men.

  As the two groups of riders pulled back from each other, Tal took advantage of the opportunity to glance over the men. They had been riding separated, just far enough apart to allow them to cover each others’ backs. Dark green cloaks and tunics covered their lean forms, each carrying a longsword at their belt, and a longbow over their shoulder.

  The leader bowed his head to Car’raen. “Hawk Car’raen, welcome home.”

  Tal’s eyes flicked to Car, who was returning the head bow.

  “Ranger Kove’tar. It is good to be home.” A slight twitch entered Car’s voice, a twitch Tal was learning to recognize as mild amusement. “I take it your presence here is not accidental?”

  “No, milord. Shris’dari scried your arrival.” Kove nodded towards Tal, “She also mentioned the boy, but she didn’t know who he was.”

  “Ah.” Car turned to Tal and gestured him forwards. “Kove’tar, be known to my apprentice and adopted son Tal’raen. Tal’raen, this is Ranger Captain Kove’tar, also husband to our local Healer and Seer, the Horse Mage Shris’dari. The two of them double as the heads of my household and stewards of my lands when I’m gone, and my general keepers when I’m home.”

  Tal bowed to the Ranger, who regarded him with a penetrating gaze.

  After a moment, Kove turned away. “We should ride, my lords,” he said firmly. “Night is falling and it gets cold in these mountains. If we ride hard, though, we should manage to make the manor house before nightfall.”

  The sun was just beginning to drop behind the tree-topped hills when they reached the house. The gentle light of the sunset leaked over the hills to light up the Gray stone building in a mix of orange and shadow. Two wings reached to either side, away from what had clearly once been a fortified keep. While the keep stood four stories tall, the wings were only two. A five-story tower marked the end of each wing, and watchfires burned in each of them.

  As the sun dipped more towards the night, more fires lit in a pair of watchtowers at the end of the valley, illuminating the five riders as they came in. Greetings were shouted down from the rangers in the towers as Tal passed through the open gate in the low wall blocking the valley.

  A path paved in dark red stones started just outside the gate, within the light from the watchtowers, and led towards the small courtyard before the central tower of the manor. A small group of people standing in the courtyard greeted the riders’ approach by coming out to meet them, led by a short and motherly woman in a simple green and white tunic.

  She walked out to meet the four men and the boy, a smile on her face. Coming to a stop in front of Car’raen’s horse, she curtsied. “Welcome home, Hawk Car’raen,” she greeted him with a broad smile. “We’ve prepared your rooms for you, and a small set of rooms near yours for young Tal.”

  Tal jerked at her use of his name, but then realized who this motherly looking woman was. Car’raen had mentioned Shris’dari, a powerful Life Mage and Seer who ran the household. She’d probably been watching and listening to their conversation with her husband.

  As he realized this, he suddenly found himself beginning to sway on his horse. He’d been riding for six days, and a boy raised in a monastery was hardly used to long journeys by horse.

  His swaying attracted Shris’s attention. “Look at the poor boy, he’s exhausted,” she said, disapproval in her voice. It took Tal a moment to realize it was directed at Kove and Car for not taking better care, rather than at him. With a surprising quiet authority, she waved the men with her forward to help Car and the Rangers dismount, and came forward herself to hoist Tal from his horse.

  He stiffened at her touch for a moment, then relaxed and allowed himself to be mothered.

  Steel skittered on steel as the two longswords clashed. Car grunted as he deflected Kove’s attack to the side. Both men were clad in light tunics, without padding. They relied on each other’s skill to prevent injury, and on Shris’s healing talents to fix any injury that did occur.

  Car turned from his deflection into an attack, slowly driving the Ranger backwards, step-by-step across the inner courtyard, sheltered from the elements on three sides by the house. His unrelenting attack didn’t slow or falter, until his foot slipped on a small pebble that had found its way onto the smooth stone.

  As his foot slipped out from underneath him, his left hand dropped from the swordh
ilt to the ground, turning his fall into a roll that brought him out from under Kove’s descending blade, and up onto his feet, his sword swinging in an arc flashing for the Ranger’s neck. He stopped the blade just short of touching and stepped back.

  Kove grimaced and nodded acknowledgment. “Good recovery, milord.”

  Car nodded, sheathing the longsword as he glanced around the courtyard, which doubled as a training salle. His eye picked out a small figure, clad in a familiar plain black tunic. “Tal,” he called. “Good morning. Come, join us.”

  The seven-year-old boy stepped out onto the yard silently, his face seeming focused. As he entered the light of the early morning sun, Car saw the small flame the boy had been focusing on vanish.

  “Good morning master,” Tal finally said, nodding first to Car, then to Kove. “Good morning Ranger Kove’tar.”

  Kove barked laughter. “Call me Kove, boy,” he ordered. “If that’s too much stress, just try Ranger or Swordmaster.”

  Tal inclined his head slightly. “Your wish… Swordmaster.” He gestured towards the longswords. “What are you doing?”

  “Sparring.” Car replied. “We’re both Eleventh Circle Masters of the Tal’var School of swordsmanship. Since we’re the only two people here of that rank, we spar with each other to hone our skills.” The Hawk considered his apprentice. “Pick up a blade and join us. This will be one of the things I will be teaching you. When I am busy, Kove will take over this part of your lessons.”

  Tal paused, seeming to consider the rack of practice swords leaning against one wall of the courtyard, under the partial roof around the edge, then turned back to Car. “Why, master Car?” he asked.