Children of Prophecy

by Glynn Stewart

  The Drake Mage nodded. “I will do your will, Lord of the Swarm,” he said firmly, as if to prove that no rebellion lurked in his mind.

  “Good,” Stret acknowledged. A moment later, the floating spark of light was back. “The rest of you will gather your followers. We must crush Joh’per.”

  The spark seemed to dance across the map, then settle down. Stret watched it, realizing that no-one else saw that it was still moving, slowly. “Once we are gathered,” he continued smoothly, “we will pursue him, and we will destroy him.”

  He faced the Magi who had become his commanders-by-default. “Gather your followers and ‘beasts,” he repeated. “The Time of Prophecy is upon us, and I have commanded.”

  As they filed out, his eyes settled back on the slowly moving spark that traced out the path of the traitor and his host.

  An hour later, Stret faced Tel as the Drake Mage prepared to move out. The Drake Mage was the most junior of the Swarm’s leaders, with perhaps forty Magi followers. This was, in fact, the point he was raising.

  “My Lord Stret’sar,” the Mage said softly, “I am merely saying that I may not have the numbers to achieve the task you have set me. I am grateful for the opportunity to prove myself to you; I fear that the good of the Swarm may be better served if a Mage with more followers was sent.”

  Stret listened calmly, nodded and spoke: “Tel’kit, I’m not asking you to take Drago Pass or refight the War of the Four,” he said calmly. “I’m asking you to take a minor pass and begin raiding. Do you or do you not believe you can achieve that task?”

  The Drake Mage hesitated, but nodded sharply. “Yes, I do,” he said firmly.

  “Good. Tel’kit, how many of the other Drake Magi do you think would even have considered the good of the Swarm over their own gratification?” Stret asked.

  “I cannot say, Lord,” replied the Mage.

  “You can’t. I can,” Stret told the other Mage with a cold smile. “None of them, Tel. I chose you because you see the goal. I need that. Achieve this task, and you will hold a place equaled only by the Three in power and in my trust.”

  Tel’kit nodded. “Your will, Lord of the Swarm,” he acknowledged.

  As the Drake Mage turned to leave, Stret held up a hand. “There is one more thing, Tel,” he said quietly.

  “My lord?”

  Stret reached out with his mind, and made the air in front of him solidify. Into the chaos of the swirls, he wove a map of Vishni and marked a city and river. “A barge is leaving the High City today, carrying the Princess Wolf Adept Brea’ahrn, with an escort of six Battlemagi,” he told the other man. “The barge will make a two-week trip to the north, carrying the Princess to the city of Telnar, where she will be serving out her Adepthood. For various reasons, I believe it would be best if she never reached her destination. Bring her to me,” he instructed. “Alive.”

  “I shall attend to it myself,” Tel promised.

  “No, Tel, you won’t,” Stret corrected him with a smile. “You will remain at whatever pass you choose to take and coordinate the efforts of your raiders. Send your best Swarmmasters, with all their ‘beasts, after her. I want her dragged before me, but you will not risk yourself in pursuit of that goal. I have too few Drake Magi to lose more than the one I must.”

  Stret thought he detected a tinge of disappointment in Tel’s voice as the older Mage bowed. “As you wish,” he acknowledged.

  He allowed the image in the air to fade. “I ask your utmost effort, Tel’kit,” he said to the Drake Mage, “but no more. I need you alive.”

  Tel bowed.

  It took much longer for the other Drake Magi to gather their followers. All told, over a thousand Chaos Magi had answered the Three’s summons. Of those, nearly a hundred had left with Joh’per and would now have to die.

  Even with Tel’kit’s followers being gone, that still left over nine hundred Chaos Magi. Over half of those were Swarmmasters, and their beasts flanked the columns as Stret watched them leave the camp.

  Around the Chaos Magi gathered the warbands of the near-men – also known as Beastmen. Intelligent and deadly, they picked their own champions and leaders – most often the Chaos Warrior Magi, not the Swarmmasters. Most of the Warriors were accompanied by a warband of Beastmen. Beyond the semi-organized lines of the Magi and near-men sprawled the endless numbers of the Swarm. No two creatures within that seething mass of life were alike.

  “It is so… alive,” he murmured, certain no-one could hear him. The only living thing near enough to hear was the drake he was mounted on.

  The drakes were intelligent, too. Very few Swarmmasters could control one. Stret smiled. He’d acquired his in an odd way. He wasn’t a Swarmmaster, but the drake had knelt and acknowledged him when he found it.

  It was wild, but it had acted like a trained drake once it had met him. Perhaps, he thought, there’s more to the legends of the drakes being more than merely extra-intelligent and large Swarmbeasts – that they were created by the first chaos Magi – and that the Drake Lord could make them obey him. Certainly they obey me.

  The army continued to file past. He’d made certain all the leaders knew where they were going. Joh’per could run. He could hide. He could even – if he was fool enough – choose to fight.

  But he could not escape, and he would not survive.

  Stret followed the Swarm, watching from the back of his drake. So far, the Swarmbeasts had been able to follow the smell of Joh’per’s force, but they were entering some of the worst portions of the Waste. It would take constant scrying to follow the traitor now.

  “Lord of the Swarm!”

  Stret turned at the shout, to see a Mage, Warrior not Swarmmaster, riding towards him. The Mage was clad in the inconstant purple robes of a Chaos Mage, the folds of which clung to his and his mount’s frames.

  A quick flick of Form Sight identified the Mage as a Raven Mage. “What is it, Magi?” he asked quickly.

  “I was scrying ahead of the Swarm, Lord,” the Mage reported, “and I’ve found Joh’per’s force. He’s stopped running.”

  “Show me,” the Lord of the Swarm commanded.

  The Mage concentrated, and an image formed in the air before Stret. Stret reached out, adding his power and control to the Mage’s scrying. An image formed in the air.

  Rocks, sands and ravenous heat made up most of the image. A few black dots were visible. Stret looked at the Mage and nodded. The image focused in on those dots, revealing the purple robes of Chaos Magi. Around them, Swarmbeasts and near-men were moving into position.

  Stret let the image fade. “Thank you, Mage,” he said calmly, giving the Warrior Mage a firm nod. “Now, can I ask another duty of you?”

  The Mage bowed from his saddle. “I am yours to command.”

  “Find the Rider Lo’kae,” Stret instructed. “Tell him I want him to gather the Drake Magi, and that I will see them in one hour.”

  “Your wish, Lord of the Swarm,” the Warrior replied with a nod. He turned to his Swarmbeast mount to leave.

  “Wait,” Stret commanded. The Mage turned back. “What is your name, that you may be rewarded for your service?”

  “I am Jol’inar, Lord,” the Mage responded.

  “I will remember your service, Jol’inar,” Stret’sar, Lord of the Swarm, promised. “Now go!”

  Images floated in the air before Stret. Each showed a portion of his Swarm, and several showed Joh’per’s Swarm.

  The traitor Drake Mage had clearly realized that Stret was coming after him. He’d taken up a position in an area of very bad ground, a maze of canyons and rocks with only one way in or out. His near-men and Swarmbeasts were blocking that way in, while his Warrior Magi and Swarmmasters prepared ambushes.

  The images faded, to reveal his tent and the ten Drake Magi with him.

  “So?” one of them asked. “We’ve all seen it. His position is well chosen. We can take him, but it will cost us more than we can afford to pay. Why don’t we just let him go?”

/>   Stret raised a hand. “All the Swarm will pay allegiance to me, Kort’ret,” he said firmly. “Those who won’t…” his hand clenched into a fist.

  He turned away from them, the images coming up before his eyes as he faced the wall of the tent. “Nonetheless, you need not fear for yourselves, your followers, or your ‘beasts,” he told them all. “Because you are wrong, Kort’ret. His position is not well chosen. His choice, in fact, has doomed him and his followers.”

  “When we arrive,” he continued, “your followers will parade before the entrance, demonstrating that he has no chance. We will give them one final chance to accept my authority.” The images focused in on a single one, showing the patterns of fault lines and cracks in the hard granite of the canyon. “But for those who do not… I will show you all why there can only be one Lord of the Swarm.”

  Stret watched as his Swarm paraded its way before the entrance to the canyon maze Joh’per had forted up in. It was impressive, even to him. Nine hundred Chaos Magi, fifteen thousand near-men, innumerable Swarmbeasts and twelve drakes moved slowly across the landscape, the magic of the Magi shielding them from the effects of the horrific weather. “Any of them looking to take the chance?” he asked.

  Lo’kae shook his head. “I told you it wouldn’t work,” he reminded his Master. “They don’t believe you’re willing to pay the price to destroy them.”

  “They’re wrong,” Stret said coldly. “However, I have a better method.”

  “They’re not going to believe,” Lo’kae told him. “Not unless you do it.”

  Stret nodded. “I know,” he admitted. “Wait.”

  “The longer Joh’per’s resistance lasts, the weaker your position grows,” Lo’kae observed.

  “I know,” Stret snapped. “I said wait.”

  Lo’kae backed away. “You are making a mistake,” he repeated.

  Stret spun to face him. “Am I or am I not the Lord of the Swarm?!” he barked. There was only so much questioning of his authority he could take.

  “You are our Lord,” Lo’kae admitted, bowing his head in acknowledgement of Stret’sar’s authority.

  “Good,” Stret hissed. “You, like the others, have yet to understand. As I have said, wait.”

  Stret floated to the front of his Swarm, the ‘beasts, near-men and Magi splitting before him. He faced the canyons. A touch of Chaos artificially augmented his voice, and then he spoke.

  “Joh’per.” Other than its volume, his voice was conversational. “Come out. Let us talk like civilized beings.”

  “Showmanship does not make you Lord of the Swarm, boy!” Joh’per snapped, appearing out of nowhere. A moment’s thought showed Stret that he’d teleported.

  “True. My blood, my power and the Scepter make me Lord of the Swarm,” Stret replied, still in the same conversational tone. “What claim do you make?”

  “I make no claim to be Lord of the Swarm,” Joh’per replied. “I merely see no reason why we should change the way we’ve lived for over a millennium because some child has turned up and picked up the scepter of a long-dead fool!”

  “I see. Well, I am Lord of the Swarm,” Stret observed, conversationally. “The only way you can do anything other than yield to me is to kill me and take my place. So, come. Step up and take your chance. A chance to rule, or die. Choose now.”

  Joh’per’s teeth bared in a snarl. “Very well then,” he snapped. “I’ll kill you like the little pipsqueak you are.”

  “Feel free to try,” Stret told him. Despite the nature of the conversation, he managed to keep his voice perfectly conversational.

  Joh’per unleashed an immense wave of chaos fire before Stret had even finished speaking. Stret’s hand flicked across his face, as if batting away a fly, and the fire hammered into the side of one of the canyons.

  The Drake Mage followed it up with a smashing blast of Chaos lightning, which Stret smothered with his mind before it reached him. Stret grinned at the older Mage.

  He snarled back, and unleashed an all-out chaos storm. Purple lightning and ice and fire lashed out towards Stret. Stret watched it approach, and calmly blew at it as it neared him. He flashed power along with the puff of air, and extinguished the storm before it reached him

  Stret moved. He flicked his left hand slightly, and sent streams of purple light flashing at Joh’per. With a pop, the other Mage teleported from in front of Stret to behind him, and sent Chaos lances flashing at Stret.

  He took the assault purely on his shields. He grunted as the energy shunted into him. A moment later, he reflected it straight back at Joh’per, distracting the older Mage for a moment.

  A moment was all he needed. Stret spun, raising the Scepter. Purple light shot from the eyes of the Dragon, slamming into Joh’per’s chest.

  The Mage screamed. He kept screaming as all of his power and his life flowed into Stret. He could feel his eyes glow with the intensity of it. Then the screaming – and the power flow – cut off simultaneously as Joh’per’s drained corpse crumpled to the ground.

  Stret turned towards the canyons. Some, if not most or even all, of the Magi in there would surrender now. However, they would always be plotting behind his back. They were the kind of Mage he was fighting against.

  He would not allow them to taint the crusade he was building. He reached out with his mind, using the power he’d drained from Joh’per. He touched the faults and cracks he’d been looking at before. He touched them, and then he ripped them apart.

  The collapsing cliff walls were the first sign. Screams echoed from the canyons, and several of the Magi and others began to run for the exit.

  “Don’t let them out,” Stret ordered. A second later, a series of blazing chaos attacks wiped out the fleeing Magi.

  As he continued to watch, the ground beneath the feet of the Chaos Magi – who were already desperately holding shields against the falling rock – ripped open. Swarmbeasts and near-men went tumbling into the cracks. Their Magi masters followed. Some managed to keep themselves intact though, both holding themselves above the cracks and holding the falling rocks above their heads.

  Then Stret reached way down under, and ripped a fault line straight up. Moments later, lava erupted from the cracks. The handful that had managed to survive died as the burning rock poured over them.

  Some of them were still screaming when he turned back to face the Swarm. The popping of lava and screams of the dying were a sharp counterpoint to his projected, yet mild and conversational, voice. “There is only one Swarm, and I am its Lord,” he told them. “You have only one loyalty, the Swarm. You have only one leader, me. Those who fail will be crushed. I am the Lord of the Swarm.”

  As he faced them, the heat of the new volcano surging at his back, every single Mage and near-man in the Swarm went to their knees before him. They would respect him now.

  Black Lord

  “Wolf Adept Brea’ahrn?”

  The voice from behind her startled Brea’ahrn, and she turned to face the speaker. “Yes…” she said, pausing as her gaze settled on the young Battlemage behind her, “Battlemage…?”

  The fair-haired young man, strangely familiar, bowed. “I am Panther Mage Kor’tan,” he informed her. “Mage Fesh’tar’s triad and mine have been assigned to join your escort.”

  “Escort?” she echoed, taken unawares. “I was unaware I was supposed to be escorted?” Though now she thought of it, she wasn’t surprised. Today would be the first time she’d ever traveled beyond Deoran’s walls on her own.

  “Milady,” the young Mage said, “Someone seems to have messed up.” His calm statement was accompanied by a small smile. He gestured around at the crowd in the main thoroughfare. “Your escort was supposed to meet you at the castle. I was told to look for a body of armed men, not a single Adept.”

  “No-one informed me that I should be waiting for an escort, so I suspect I may have left them behind,” Brea admitted, feeling embarrassed.

  “They know where we were supposed to rendezvous with
them and you,” Kor’tan said with a shrug. “My triad and Fesh’tar’s are waiting there, so I presume the Kingsmen will join us there.”

  “Lead the way, Mage Kor’tan,” she told him.

  As they began to weave their way through the crowd, down towards the stables where horses waited to bear them to the river, Brea sighed, thinking of another young Battlemage. Tal’raen had been gone for two weeks, and she had no idea when he’d be back. Now she was leaving, heading north on her Adepthood, to spend the next three years serving as apprentice and assistant to one of the many Life Magi in the Kingdom.

  She just had to hope Tal was assigned to spend his Adepthood near her, or on one of the roving triads that dispensed justice beyond the control of the forts and cities. That way she’d have some chance of seeing him. If he was assigned to a permanent fort somewhere else, they’d almost never see each other.

  Unfortunately, Adepts has no real say in where they were assigned, so they’d take fate as it fell. She would be in the north, and he’d be wherever he was assigned, but they’d have some chance to see each other. They had to.

  Her thoughts continued on this gloomy path all the way to the stables.

  The stables were quite large, serving most of the nobles of the capital as a place to store their horses outside the inner city where the only horses allowed were for the Kingsmen. Waiting near her horse’s stall were five Battlemagi, already mounted. They had two horses with them, Brea’s and Kor’s.