She nodded her thanks to the Mage holding her horse’s reins and mounted. She turned in the saddle to face the Magi. “I am told we have a group of Kingsmen to wait for as well,” she told them. “I, ah, apparently left them behind.”
A series of grins marked the Magi’s faces, and one of them rode over to her. He removed one hand from his reins and offered it to her. “Milady Brea’ahrn, I am Falcon Mage Fesh’tar,” he introduced himself.
Gesturing at two of the other Magi, he continued, “Those two reprobates are Kor’tan’s personal headache, the other two Magi of his triad, Lor’nasa and Ich’nik.”
The two Magi in question bowed.
“The other two are my eternal punishment, though I must have committed something incredibly evil in a past life to deserve them. Chet’sel and Jig’ni.” They grinned and bowed as well. “And you’ve already met the second in command of our little di-triad, Kor’tan.” His final gesture took in the fair Mage, who’d escorted Brea down.
“And, if you look behind you,” he continued with a smile, “that second sun on the ground over there is the light reflecting off the silvered armor of our Kingsmen compatriots.”
Brea turned in the saddle and saw them. Thirty men in bright chainmail rode down the street. They were completely out of formation, more concerned with not riding into or over anyone, but they were in fine fettle. Their armor had been polished, certainly, though probably not ‘silvered,’ and their blue cloaks were clean and bright.
The leader of the platoon rode up to Brea’ahrn and raised his hand to his helmet in salute. “Milady Brea’ahrn, it is good to see you, at last,” he said dryly.
Brea inclined her head. “My apologies for that, captain…” she trailed off, looking at him questioningly.
“Kings-Captain Mar’tell, milady, of the King’s Fifth Lancers,” he replied.
“Thank you,” Brea acknowledged with a nod of her head. “I do apologize for leaving you behind Kings-Captain. I was never informed that I would have an escort of any sort.”
“I myself only realized that lack after waiting in the main courtyard for some twenty minutes,” Mar’tell admitted to her.
Brea looked around at the large group of various types of soldiers she’d acquired. “Well, since we all appear to be here,” she said with a small smile, “should we not proceed to the riverboat? I suspect the captain may get impatient if we are late.”
“With what he’s being paid, he shouldn’t,” Fesh’tar said with a laugh, “But I see your point milady.”
A minute or so later, Brea led the cavalcade down the street.
The river-docks were only a short ride from the city gates. The Deoran River made its meandering way through most parts of Vishni on its way to the sea, current driving the riverboats south, the usual prevailing winds driving them north.
The docks were built on an artificial lake, seemingly cut away from the side of the river. The lake was the main reason the docks were outside of the walls of Deoran City– it had been dug out in the only area of flat ground on the river for kilometers.
Dozens of the two-masted riverboats bobbed away at the docks, their white sails silhouetted against the deep blue water of the lake. Around them, the docks bustled with activity as stevedores loaded and unloaded the cargoes that flowed into and out of the greatest city in Vishni. Food, raw materials and information flowed in, money, finished goods and contracts flowed out.
Brea’s eyes finally came to settle on a specific riverboat, whose sail bore the tree symbol of the Order of the Lady. Crates and barrels, containing what she knew would be medicines and other healing supplies, were being loaded onto the ship, destined for the same northern hospital as she was.
“I’m guessing that’s our ship,” Fesh’tar commented from behind her.
“She is,” Brea replied. “The Ilsadore, riverboat out of Krilor, captained by one…”
“Koris Telnat, my lady,” a voice interrupted her. Brea turned to find herself facing a great, red-bearded giant of a man. Even if he hadn’t looked the stereotype, his name gave him away as an Islander – one of the people who lived in the Islands on the ocean to the east of Vishni’s coast.
He bowed to her. “I am correct in believing that you are the Princess Wolf Adept Brea’ahrn, aren’t I?” he asked.
Brea inclined her head in response. “I am, Captain…” she trailed off. Despite what she knew of Islanders, she was uncertain how to handle the unusually formed name.
“Call me Koris, Lady Brea’ahrn,” the giant told her with a wide grin. “I’ve never yet met a Vishnean who was comfortable with my second name.”
“Very well, Captain Koris,” she agreed. “How long until you are ready to leave?”
“By the time you’ve got all these fine young soldiers aboard, we should be finished loading,” he told her. “You might want to send them on ahead,” he glanced over the soldiers with an appraising eye, “for if they’re as good as they look, they’ll want to take care of their weapons themselves.”
“We will likely take a while to get aboard,” Mar’tell admitted with a nod. “With your leave, milady?”
“Feel free, Captain,” Brea told him. “I don’t believe I’m likely to be attacked here.”
The troop of Kingsmen rode off towards the boat, but the di-triad of Battlemagi remained where they were, watching. For what, Brea wasn’t all too sure.
Shrugging aside their paranoia, she turned back to Koris. “I’m actually surprised you’re willing to take on so many armed men,” she observed to him. “I wasn’t informed of their presence when I was making arrangements.”
“Your negotiator was, and I extorted a nice premium from him for it,” Koris told her, grinning. His face turned serious for a moment. “However, I’ve no real problems with carrying Kingsmen, and I’m damned glad to be carrying Battlemagi. They’ll be needed up north soon.”
Brea blinked in surprise. “What makes you say that?” she asked.
The Islander shrugged. “Rumors,” he said quietly. “Some talk among the Islanders is that the Speakers have been seeing signs.” The Speakers were what Magi were called among Islanders. For some unknown reason, the Islands threw up very few Death Magi, but their Life Magi – called ‘the Speakers’ for their skills at scrying – rivaled Vishni’s best.
“I sometimes feel it in the water,” Koris said, still quiet. “A storm is brewing, and it’s going to break in the north. I’m no Vishnean, and the Islands have their own share of resentments against the Kingdom, but Vishneans at least try to treat us as people and equals. The Swarm would treat us as food.” The Islander’s serious face had quite clearly turned to anger, and his hand had clenched on his swordhilt. “When the storm breaks, I want there to be as many Death Magi around to limit it as possible.”
Brea glanced over to Fesh’tar, who wore an odd expression. “What is it, Fesh?” she asked the Battlemage.
The Mage shook himself. “Nothing major, I guess,” he replied. “I hadn’t realized that the Speakers were seeing signs as well.” He shrugged. “It may be nothing; both they and the Kingdom’s Life Magi have been mistaken in the past.”
Glancing down at where Mar’tell was loading his men onto the riverboat, Brea nodded. “Well, signs or no signs,” she said firmly, “it looks like we should probably be heading down there ourselves.”
She glanced over the Islander captain, who seemed to have recovered his jovial composure. “Aye, it’s looking to be about that time,” he agreed.
As the group began to walk towards the boat, Brea realized what bothered her about Fesh’s statement. She’d read a lot of the history of Vishni’s seers and the Islander Speakers, and Fesh was right. They’d been wrong. Both the seers and the Speakers had been wrong at times. But every time that both groups had seen signs of impending disaster, that disaster had struck.
Brea stood on the bow of the riverboat, letting the night wind blow gently over her and ruffle her hair. Deoran city lay four days behind them. Trees lined the ed
ge of the river here, and the boat gently bobbed as her anchor held her against the current.
Footsteps on the deck disturbed her. Driven by some instinct, she hid herself behind the bow tie-ropes. She glanced over the pile of rope.
All six of her Battlemagi escorts stood on the deck, along with Captain Mar’tell. What’s going on? Why don’t I know about this?
“Are you certain?” she heard Fesh’tar ask.
“Yes,” Kor’tan replied. “I don’t know how they got past the Rangers, but there are six Chaos Magi heading towards us. We must presume they are hunting the Princess.”
“Damn,” the other Mage said softly. “Do you know any more?”
She heard a rustle of cloth, as if Kor’tan had shrugged. “There were also about six hundred ‘beasts and sixty Beastmen,” the Battlemage told his subordinate. “Probably at least four Swarmmasters and a pair of Warriors.”
“You know what we have to do, Captain,” Fesh’tar said, she was guessing to Mar’tell.
“I know,” the Kingsman replied. “I’ll wake up Koris as soon as you’re ashore. We’ll give you as much space as we can.”
She heard whinnying and the clop of shod hooves on wood, as the horses were led out of the cargo hold onto the deck. A series of splashes followed.
“Good luck,” Mar’tell called.
“Gods bless you,” drifted back on the night wind.
Mar’tells footsteps sounded as he returned below-decks. Brea stood. Chaos Magi? What’s going on here? A moment’s hesitation struck her as the whole scene seemed strangely familiar.
She followed the Captain down into the ship.
An hour later, they’d raised anchor and were making all sail north. Even if she hadn’t seen the Battlemagi going ashore, Brea would have known something was up. She went looking for Mar’tell.
She found him supervising the removal of his men’s bows from the rack in the hold where they’d been stowed. “What’s going on?” she demanded.
“Ah, Princess,” he replied. “I didn’t realize we’d wakened you.”
“Captain, you woke up everyone else on the boat,” Brea observed dryly. “How exactly was I supposed to sleep through it? Now will someone tell me what is going on?”
“Nothing serious, highness,” the Kingsman told her.
“Really,” Brea said dryly. “Then why are we suddenly making full sail in the middle of the night, while you and your men check your weapons?”
“Milady…” Mar’tell trailed off.
“I don’t want ‘milady’s, Captain,” she snapped. “I want answers. What is going on?”
Mar’tell seemed to hesitate for a moment before he spoke. “There were worries about some pirates,” he told her. “We were taking precautions for your safety.”
“Funny,” Brea said calmly, “Before Fesh and Kor went ashore, they were talking about Chaos Magi.” She went on, driving over Mar’tell’s attempt to speak. “This may come as somewhat of a surprise, captain, but I am quite capable of being told bad news. Now tell me what is going on!”
The Captain nodded slowly. “My apologies, Wolf Adept,” he said finally. “I believe I may have grown too used to guarding useless nobility.”
He gestured for her to follow him, and led the way into a cabin off the storage room. He turned back to her. “Earlier this morning, Kor was scrying for possible threats,” he told her softly. “It’s a safety precaution we’ve been following throughout the whole trip, but until last night it turned up nothing. Last night, he turned up an entire force of Chaos Magi: four Swarmmasters, with far too many ‘beasts for my taste, plus two Warriors with their warbands of Beastmen.”
He looked at Brea. “Fesh’tar and the others went to try to either stop them, or buy us time to get far enough ahead of them that we can reach the next Mage-fort – the nearest is about a day and a half’s sail away.”
Brea was silent. The only way six Battlemagi would make six fully accompanied Chaos Magi slow down would be to make them take the time to kill them. “Gods…” she trailed off.
“They chose it, Princess,” the Kingsman said quietly. “They’re Battlemagi, it’s the oath they swore.” Brea looked at Mar’tell, and he stopped his useless prattle.
“What if they fail?” she asked.
“Then we hope that either the wind picks up,” he gestured out the cabin window, showing the shore that moved oh-so slowly beside them, “or a miracle happens. We hope hard.”
The sun had only barely begun to rise when they heard the first explosions. Brea felt the magic being unleashed before she heard it, but they heard it nonetheless. It sounded like the sky had been ripped open and all the thunder of the heavens let loose in one immense storm.
Brea turned to look behind them. The slowly lightening sky was glowing with the fury of the battle taking place to the south. An odd purple color flickered across the sky, as did flashes of red and white.
Thunder rolled again, and she jumped. Moments later, she felt one of the Battlemagi – she couldn’t tell which one from here – die. Almost simultaneously, the sky turned white with magefire glittering from horizon to horizon.
It lasted for several seconds, then blazing inconstant purple seared across the sky to dispel it, and Brea felt another of the Magi die. The sky turned a malignant purple, almost painful to look at, and Brea could feel the amount of power the Chaos Magi were using.
Sparks of white and red flashed against the purple, and something seemed to tear as one of the Chaos Magi died. Then she felt Fesh’tar – she knew it was him, none of the others were as powerful – falter.
Chaos flared up and two more Battlemagi – one of them Fesh’tar – died at the same time.
“Run. Run damn you,” she hissed, tears running down her face as she felt the two Magi face five of their enemies.
For a moment, the Battlemagi, both veterans of the Long War against the Swarm, held. Another Chaos Mage died. For a moment, Brea prayed that they might manage to hold… and then the two Magi were running.
Brea couldn’t help herself, she ran to the stern of the riverboat to watch for them. As she reached it, she stumbled, feeling another of the Magi die as the Swarmmasters pursued.
She peeled her eyes to the south as the surging energies slowed, and then stopped altogether. Whoever the last Mage was, they’d managed to escape. For a moment, white light flared again as the Mage was attacked by something – presumably either Beastmen or Swarmbeasts trying to avenge a dead master.
A robed rider burst from the trees, hurtling towards the boat on a panting, exhausted horse. Drawing level with the boat, Brea saw his head turn back and she recognized Kor’tan. He leaped from the horse, Shifting into a panther as he charged into the water.
It took him only moments to reach the boat, and Brea joined in with the others in pulling him ashore.
“Fesh’tar and the others?” she asked, already knowing the answer but having to ask anyway.
The panther shimmered slightly, and shifted back into Kor’tan, the still-dripping, light-haired young man lying on the deck. “Dead,” he gasped. “They’re all dead. The survivors are gaining on us: three ‘Masters with swarms and a Warrior with warband.”
“Dammit,” Brea swore. She’d hoped that she’d somehow been wrong.
She twisted to face Mar’tell, where he stood watching the Mage in despair. “Captain, is there anything you can do?” she demanded.
The soldier looked haggard. “Highness, I have thirty men,” he said bluntly. “At a guess, there are still at least five hundred Swarmbeasts out there, with Magi. We cannot win. We must run.”
Brea looked back across the boat, turning back to the river. A few glimpses of motion showed themselves in the trees. “The only problem is that the Swarmbeasts run faster than we can sail,” she said despairingly.
Suddenly she felt a surge of power as the woods lit up with blue flame. Even hundreds of meters away, Brea felt the hair on her arms stand up as energy filled the woods and she felt the remaining
Chaos Magi die, all of them… at once. For a few moments, the woods blazed with light like an inferno, then quieted.
A hawk slowly winged its way out of the woods, to settle on the boats’ deck. Brea stared at it for a moment, then it shimmered, and a man appeared where the hawk had rested. A black cloak completely encased his body, leaving nothing visible of his skin. Where the hood should have revealed his face, a glimmering shadow concealed his features.
“Who are you?” Brea demanded.
“I am the man who saved you,” he told her. “I am the Black Lord.”
“The Black Lord?” Brea said slowly, reeling at the sudden turn of events. “That’s not possible. The Black Lord is the prophesied…”
“Hawk Lord Reborn,” the man said flatly. “I know what I am, Adept.” He looked around the boat, and gestured Koris and Mar’tell to him. “Turn the boat around.”
“Look, whoever you want to claim to be, I am an Adept, and I am supposed to head north,” Brea exclaimed.
The empty-seeming hood regarded her. “Lady Brea’ahrn, the northern portions of the Kingdom are under assault,” he informed them. “Were your escort intact, I would happily allow you to make your way north, where your talents would be useful, as would the soldiers and Magi. Your escort, however, is not intact. If you go north, they will kill you. You were the target here. Something about you frightens whoever is leading the Swarm. You are returning south.”
There was something familiar to Brea in the way the man spoke, both in his voice and in the way he drove over any resistance, but she couldn’t place it. Whatever it resembled, it was also very different.
“I refuse to take orders from someone with a glamored face,” she snapped. “Reveal yourself, or we continue north.”
“I don’t think so,” the Lord stated calmly. He turned to Koris. “Captain? Take this boat south. Now.”
Children of Prophecy Page 21
