Children of Prophecy

by Glynn Stewart

  At the center of the Deoran Highlands rose a single mountain. Millenia ago, when the Kingdom of Vishni was coming into being, a group of Magi of both kinds had gathered together here. They had taken that mountain and shaped it into a Citadel. Sheer cliffs hundreds of meters high blended into sharp stone walls that rose higher. The Citadel was no city, but a fortress. The city nestled in the hills around it, their towers rising high – yet never challenging the immense majesty of the Citadel. No enemy could take that immense fortification, even if they took the City below.

  And in Tal’s thoughts, in memories he could not place, the very stones of the immense castle burned…

  By the time they reached the gates of the High Citadel, Tal had finally managed to place the disturbing memories. They weren’t of anything he’d seen – at least, not awake. They were from his dreams. He sighed and resolved to talk to Car about it later. It might turn out to be important.

  He turned his eyes to the gates ahead. A winding path worked its way up the mountain, curved so an attacking soldier’s right arm would be facing the walls. At the top, a pair of ironbound wooden gates, even larger than those of Kahir, guarded the main entrance to the seat of the High King.

  Today, the gates were open, and a double file of pikemen, all perfectly turned out in the blue and gold doublets and bright steel armor of Kingsmen, lined each side of the road. At the center of the gate waited a group of mounted knights, their burnished armor reflecting the late autumn sun.

  A man and woman stood, flanked by the knights. They were dressed in deep blue robes. The tall and stately woman wore a thin golden circlet around her forehead, holding back her long burgundy hair. The burly man’s silvering hair was cropped short and mostly concealed by the twelve-pointed crown of the High King.

  Car’raen stopped his horse an exact two meters from the King and dismounted. Tal followed suit, and the two Magi slowly walked forward another meter.

  Car bowed his head to the King. “High King Kelt’ahrn,” he greeted his friend, “it has been a long time.”

  Tal followed suit and murmured, “My Liege.”

  Kelt’ahrn maintained a stern, regal, posture for a moment longer, causing Tal to fear that he’d somehow given offense. Then the man gave a deep booming laugh and stepped forward, wrapping Car into an immense bear hug.

  “Welcome back, Car’raen,” he boomed, reminding Tal of Kove’tar for a moment. “The Hawk is always welcome in the house of Ahrn.” Kelt’ahrn stepped back, allowing his Queen to sweep in and embrace Car in her turn.

  Releasing Car, she turned to Tal. “So this is the young man of whom we have heard so much – and seen so little,” she said to him, smiling gently. “I am Tris’dael, Initiate Tal’raen.”

  Tal bowed to her, barely managing to speak above a whisper. “You honor me, my lady.”

  He felt a heavy hand come to rest on his shoulder, and turned to face Kelt’arhn. The High King seemed to examine Tal, an odd expression on his face. “We are told that it is to you we owe the peace in our Earldom of Kahir,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly serious again. “There are few honors unworthy of a man who has faced the Fallen in mortal combat.

  Unable to speak, Tal inclined his head once more.

  Car’s voice saved his adopted son from further embarrassment by speaking into the silence. “Where is Brea’ahrn?” he asked. “I had hoped to see her.”

  Only Tal was in a position to see the tightening of Kelt’arhn’s face, and he was forced to wonder what lay between father and daughter.

  “She was summoned, but she has not yet arrived,” Kelt said, his voice quietly harsh. His face and voice slowly relaxed, as if forced, as he spoke. “She can be… difficult, at times.” Then, with a cheer that sounded forced to Tal’s ears, he boomed out, “Come, Car’raen. We have much to discuss.”

  The King’s gaze returned to Tal. “If you wish, Initiate Tal’raen,” he offered, “one of my men can guide you to the Hawk Manse.”

  Tal considered, but shook his head. “No, my liege,” he declined politely. “If you could find a guide to your training grounds, however, I would be most grateful.”

  “So be it,” Kelt acceded. He gestured one of the knights over to him, and whispered in the man’s ear for a moment. Then he spoke aloud to Tal. “Kings-Lieutenant Torv’let will guide you to the salle. Would that be satisfactory?”

  Tal bowed. “Very much so,” he agreed.

  As Tal turned to join the Kingsman, Kelt spoke again. “And Tal’raen?”

  The Initiate paused, glancing back at his King. “My liege?”

  “You have earned yourself an account of some depth with the throne,” Kelt told him, his voice unstrained now but serious again. “Feel free to call upon it at will.” The King made a shooing gesture. “Be off with you now. Enjoy yourself.”

  Tal focused on the blued steel of the Islander sword’s blade, going through the simple exercise in slow motion. To a novice, the exercise itself would have been difficult to master; but to him these days it was merely a warm-up. He drifted through the motions with a slow grace. When he completed the exercise, he moved into a more advanced exercise, going faster.

  A voice cut into his concentration. “Since when do they let peasant children play at swords here?” it demanded coldly.

  Tal noted the voice and its position. He suddenly spun around, sending his blade snapping end over end through the air – right past the speaker’s ear – to impale a training dummy. He smiled slightly at the youth he’d just missed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were there,” he said, his voice just as cold as the speaker’s had been.

  The youth, who stood nearly as tall as Tal himself, but was much burlier with that height, reached up to touch his ear. He was dressed in a light red arming doublet, a garment for weapons practice. Flinty green eyes met Tal’s across the field, and he brushed his dark hair back.

  “I suppose we can allow a peasant such as yourself one mistake,” he told Tal harshly, “provided you take yourself off to where you belong right now.”

  Tal smiled coldly. “Where I belong, at the moment, is right here,” he replied. “It is where I choose to be, and hence is where I belong.”

  An ugly snarl marred the noble youth’s perfectly handsome face. “You’ve got a big mouth for a boy in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you with no weapon either,” he snapped.

  The sound of steel on leather brought Tal’s flashing temper back under control. The youth and the two others with him had all drawn daggers, and that made it a very dangerous situation. The three advanced on him.

  Tal’s smile changed to a grin, and he reached out with a few flows of Air. Moments later, his sword came hurtling back towards him. It smashed into the wrist of the right-hand follower, sending the dagger flying, and then landed neatly in Tal’s hand.

  The leader’s face seemed to drain of blood as he looked up and down Tal, finally recognizing the black cloak and tunic for what they represented. He stepped back, sheathing his blade. “Your pardon, Mage,” he said less harshly, his voice still strained. “I did not mean offense.”

  Tal focused in on the boy’s eyes, and knew his face was cold as ice. “What is your name?” he asked flatly. He knew the noble was probably at least a year older than him, but it meant nothing now.

  “Shel’nart,” the youth said.

  Tal nodded. “I would suggest that you be more careful of your tongue, – and more respectful of others as well – Shel’nart,” he advised, sheathing his sword. “Now, as it happens, I was just leaving. Enjoy yourself.”

  With that, Tal turned on his heel and walked away. As he left the yard, he heard a single pair of words drift back to him on the wind.

  “Filthy Mage.”

  Tal watched silently as the sun slowly sank towards the horizon. The late afternoon autumn wind whipped across the battlements, and into the tiny alcove at their foot. He wrapped his cloak more tightly around himself, but otherwise ignored the cold as he meditated.

  S
pread out beneath him was the largest city in the known world. Over a million people lived and worked in the city below. They were safe – or at least as safe as the armies of the Kingdom of Vishni and the Battlemagi could make them.

  He sighed. A touch of air magic seemed to bring the gates of the city to arm’s length. A party of merchants approached the gate. A party of guards, accompanied by a Battlemage, met them. Gesticulations and mouth motions marked the beginning of the almost traditional arguments over entrance and permits.

  A slight twang in the warning net he’d extended around him told him someone was coming. While the alcove was out of the way and out of sight, – he’d only found it using magic – he moved deeper into it. He pulled the hood of the cloak up around his head, hiding himself from anyone walking by, and turned his gaze back to the city.

  The person continued to approach, seeming to be heading straight for the tiny crack in the bottom of the wall that led to this alcove. He sighed and reached out with his mind, finding the person. Careful to avoid notice, he touched the other gently.

  It was a Life Mage. He deduced from the girl’s age that she was probably an Initiate like himself. Her features were obscured by the sort of thick, warm, fur cloak favored by the upper classes in the cold winters here. It was almost certainly warmer than the linen cloak he wore.

  She reached the crack he’d entered through and paused. Tal watched silently as she glanced both ways and entered.

  He turned to face her as she entered. A moment passed without her realizing he was there, but then he shrugged to himself. “It’s an impressive view, isn’t it?” he said to her quietly.

  The girl jumped and spun around to face him. “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “I was here first,” Tal replied simply. “Who are you?”

  She simply stared at him for a moment. “I am Initiate Brea’arhn,” she replied eventually, tilting her head to look down at him.

  “So you’re the King’s daughter,” Tal noted. “The one who didn’t turn up this morning.” His bow was small and half-mocking. “I am Initiate Tal’raen, apprentice and adopted son to the Hawk Car’raen.”

  Tal watched as she bridled. “That wasn’t my fault!” she objected.

  “Really,” he replied with an arched eyebrow. “I find it hard to consider any possible way that you not turning up, after being summoned, could be anyone else’s fault.”

  “Damn you,” she snapped at him. “It’s none of your business!”

  Tal raised his hands, trying to appease her. “I’m sorry,” he said placatingly, not wanting a fight, “it was just that your father was making a point of it.”

  “He would,” Brea’ahrn snarled.

  “I don’t know what is between you and your father, Lady Brea’ahrn,” Tal said softly. “I am merely a Battlemage.” He considered for a moment, and then stood; unfolding with the catlike grace he’d learned from the Rangers. “I seem to have intruded upon your privacy, milady. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you alone.”

  “You do that,” she snapped, throwing off the hood on her cloak.

  The blood drained from Tal’s face as the feeling of déjà vu that he’d been feeling all day swept back in. An image seemed to sweep before his eyes.

  The woman stepped forward and drew back the hood of her robes. Short-cropped red curls topped a face that made every other girl Tal had ever seen seem like a crone.

  “So it comes to this, Accursed One,” she spat in his face. “ I will never yield to you.”

  The boy she’d found in her hiding place drew in his breath and stumbled backwards. He hit a rock and flung his arm for balance, catching the wall. The motion caused his hood to fall back, revealing his face.

  Brea felt the blood drain from her face to match his as she recognized the man from her visions. Which vision she didn’t know, she didn’t remember them well enough to tell.

  For a moment her eyes locked on his, seeing something in his eyes. He recognizes me… from somewhere. From visions like mine?

  He jerked his head back. “I think I really must go,” he told her, and even his voice matched the man from the dream. Younger, yes, not as deep, but it was still the same voice. It was still the same man.

  Her breath caught for a moment, keeping her from speaking. Then, “No, wait!” she called after him. But he was already gone.

  Later that evening, during her lessons, Brea ran through her head the various ways she could pose her questions to Kish’orna. Despite what he’d said before, she didn’t really think the old Life Mage would be very enthused to discover that she’d been trying the true love spell.

  The third time she fumbled a spell; however, Kish’orna sighed and pushed the books aside. “What’s bothering you, child?” he asked.

  Brea looked at the old man, considering him for a moment. The blue eyes, half-concealed by his long white hair, showed a slight twinkle of humor, and she decided to take a chance.

  “What do you know of prophetic visions, master?” she asked.

  Kish’s hand stopped halfway through closing one of his books, and his gaze suddenly locked onto her. “You mean you got it to work?” he asked sharply.

  “Got what to work?” Brea asked in confusion.

  “The true love spell,” Kish’orna replied. “I saw your eyes when I mentioned it.” Brea’s face must have betrayed her shock, because he immediately continued, “Don’t worry, child. If I’ve had even one student over the years who hasn’t tried that spell, I would be very surprised. It doesn’t work for the vast majority of them. I take it you did get it to work?”

  “I think so,” Brea replied after a moment’s hesitation. “I was expecting a face in the water, but what I got was… strange.”

  “The spell never appears as one expects,” Kish told her gently, “and never tells you just what you are seeking. When it works, that is. When it doesn’t, nothing happens. Tell me what you saw.”

  “It wasn’t just one vision,” Brea said slowly. “It was several; I’m not even sure how many anymore. They seemed to revolve around two men – but they kept switching who they were.”

  Kish looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “In one vision, one seems to be a Battlemage, and my friend,” she explained. “He’s helping me. Then, in the next, the other seems to be in the same place in the world and my life, but he’s a different person – and the other man is evil, a Chaos Mage. It was confusing as hell.”

  “Understandably,” the Life Mage said quietly, then paused. “I take it there was a specific reason these visions were bothering you?”

  “Yeah,” Brea said, and looked away from her teacher to glance out the window. “I met him.”

  “You met one of the men from your dream?” Kish demanded.

  “Yeah, but he isn’t a man,” Brea said softly. “Not yet. No more than I am the woman I see in those visions. He’s a boy, an Initiate like myself.”

  “Car’s apprentice, Tal’raen,” Kish said with a quiet nod. “Am I right?”

  Brea turned her gaze back to her teacher. “How did you know?” she demanded.

  The old man smiled at her. “When the two of you saw each other earlier,” he observed, “you both changed where you were going to avoid the other.”

  “I did not!” she snapped.

  Kish shook his head and closed the last of the books. “I think lessons are over for today. If I were you,” he continued, “I wouldn’t worry about these visions. If you like the boy, talk with him. Be friends. At a guess you saw two possible futures, and how you act may be – from the nature of the visions, actually, almost certainly is – critical to which one of them we have.” He passed the books to her. “Don’t forget to keep up with your studies, however. Now be off with you.”

  Tal sat cross-legged in the main hall of the Hawk Manse, focusing on the fire in front of him. The room was immense, designed to hold banquets with hundreds of guests. The fireplace reflected that, starting from a four-meter wide base and r
ising up the wall in an imposing edifice of black stone, backlit by the leaping flames.

  He heard footsteps behind him, and sensed Car’s presence. “Evening, master,” he said quietly.

  Car sighed. A moment later, a hand settled on Tal’s shoulder. “How are you liking the High City?” he asked.

  “It isn’t home,” Tal replied with a shrug, “but it’s not too bad for that.”

  “Good,” Car said softly as he sat down next to his student. “You may have to live here for a while.”

  Tal turned to face Car. “What do you mean?” he demanded. There was something in Car’s voice that he didn’t like.

  The Hawk met Tal’s eyes. “I have to go, Tal,” he said bluntly. “There are so many things I’ve let slide since I took you in… I could, then. I can’t anymore.”

  “Take me with you,” Tal suggested.

  “I can’t,” Car said gently. “You are powerful, and skilled, but you are not yet ready. If you could come, I would bring you without a second thought, you know that.” Tal nodded involuntarily. He did know. “But I can’t. I have to move quickly, and do many things. I have to go alone.”

  Tal reached up to touch the hand on his shoulder. “How long?” For a moment, the silence seemed to swallow everything, and he turned to face his adopted father. “How long?” he demanded again.

  Car sighed and nodded. “At least nine months,” he said softly. “Possibly a year.”

  “A year?”

  Car nodded again. “I’ll introduce you to Battle Lord Shej’mahi in the morning,” he continued. “He will be your instructor while I am gone.”

  Tal hesitated. He didn’t want Shej’mahi, the sole living Hawk Mage other than his master, to be his teacher. He wanted Car’raen, his father and mentor. To say so would sound like a petty child. He did it anyway. “I don’t want to be taught by Shej’mahi,” he objected. “I’d rather be with you, no matter how dangerous.”