Chaosmage (Age of Darkness)

by Stephen Aryan

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “To have travelled so far, and instead of finding shelter there’s just that,” he said, jerking his head at the rubble. He grinned, showing her an even set of white teeth, then went back to his apple, taking a few last bites before swallowing the core and throwing away the stalk.

  “Do you know where I can find one of the independent shelters?” asked Tammy.

  “Oh they’re no fun,” said the man, who she guessed was a mercenary. He had a certain swagger and she noticed small patches of rust on his mail shirt. No soldier, even an ex-soldier, would let their equipment get in that bad a state. “They’re all pious and serious. You should come and stay with us. We’re a lot more entertaining.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You might like it,” he said, waggling his eyebrows before looking her up and down in a way she was very familiar with.

  “You’re starting to try my patience,” said Tammy, playing for time. Balfruss was slowly herding the priests together into a tight group while he took up a position on the far side of them. It wouldn’t offer the priests much in the way of protection, but it was better than nothing.

  “Ooh, then maybe I should be punished.”

  “Come closer and I’ll be happy to oblige you,” said Tammy, slipping her pack to the ground. She thought about drawing her dagger, but opted for a two-handed grip on Maligne instead. Mercenaries didn’t have the discipline of a trained warrior, but they knew how to fight. It was better not to underestimate them.

  “I think you should drop your weapons and be nice to me, then maybe I’ll be nice back.”

  Tammy raised an eyebrow. “Nice?”

  “I’ll let you keep half of whatever you’ve got in those packs,” said the mercenary, jerking his head.

  “And if I’m not nice?”

  The mercenary shook his head, before putting two fingers to his lips and whistling. Seven men rose up from the surrounding rubble, armed with swords and axes. All of them were hard-looking mercenaries dressed in mismatched armour of leather and chain.

  “Is that it?” said Tammy. “Eight of you.”

  The mercenary was baffled. “I don’t need more. There are only two of you carrying weapons.”

  Tammy turned in a slow circle to get a better look at the men surrounding her. Balfruss met her eyes and inclined his head ever so slightly.

  She turned back to the mercenary. “I have an alternative suggestion. One you might find personally satisfying.”

  “You’re a whole lot of woman,” said the mercenary, “and normally I’d love to go somewhere private to negotiate, but this isn’t a discussion. Time is short, so leave half of everything and go.” All traces of good humour had now evaporated from his expression. Tammy noticed he kept glancing at the sky. He knew time was marching on and obviously wanted to be indoors behind a wall before it was fully dark.

  “Stop playing games, Del,” said one of the mercenaries. “Let’s take it all.”

  “Last chance,” said Tammy.

  Del shook his shaggy head. “You brought this on yourself.” He flicked one hand towards the others and stood up. “Take them.”

  As he was the most immediate threat, Tammy focused on Del. She rushed towards him, blocked a crude swing from his short sword and riposted with a slice that caught him across his other arm. Del hissed in pain and fell back, dropping his dagger. The screams of the priests turned to yells of surprise, and then came a peculiar silence followed by the sound of retching. Del’s eyes widened and his attention drifted, giving Tammy enough time to move closer and slug him in the jaw. As he dropped to the ground she kicked away his sword and put her blade against his throat.

  “Everything under control?” she shouted over one shoulder.

  “It’s all fine here,” came Balfruss’s reply followed by the sound of more vomit hitting the ground.

  “Now, Del, is it?” she asked and his frantic eyes found hers. “You’ve one chance to be useful to me. Where would I find the independent shelters?”

  “There’s only one left,” said Del, staring up the length of her sword. Tammy pressed the point of her blade harder against the base of his throat. “I swear. The other was taken a few weeks ago. We’re down to six in total now. The rest are all gone.”

  “Where is it?”

  Del gave her directions, gesturing with one hand. “It’s not very far. You can get there in half an hour. Maybe less.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me, Del?” asked Tammy. “A minute ago you were interested in something else.”

  Del started to say something but then changed his mind. He glanced at the sky again and a hint of fear crept into his eyes.

  “Last question,” said Tammy, easing the pressure slightly on his throat. “Did you destroy the other independent camp?”

  The question caught Del by surprise but he quickly recovered. “No.”

  “Then who did?”

  “The Forsaken,” he said in a whisper, as if afraid they might hear him.

  Tammy stepped back a little and glanced behind her towards Balfruss and the priests.

  The seven mercenaries were hanging upside down in the air by one ankle. Each was held in place by nothing she could see, but a quick look at Balfruss showed her what had happened. He had one hand raised towards the nearest mercenary and as he made a slight twisting motion the man rotated horizontally on the spot. The others spun at exactly the same speed and in the same direction, as if they were partners in a peculiar synchronous dance.

  “No, stop, please,” gasped one man and then he vomited again, spewing bile on the ground beneath him. One or two others puked as well and she heard Balfruss chuckle at their discomfort. Most of them were red faced from being held upside down, but there was nothing they could do to prevent it.

  Tammy checked the priests and found they were a little shaken but otherwise unhurt. She got them all moving towards the shelter and Balfruss followed at the rear.

  The seven men continued to spin on invisible hooks. “Hey. Hey!” yelled Del as they walked away. “How do I get them down?”

  Balfruss didn’t answer but once they were a few streets away Tammy dropped back to speak to him.

  “How does he get them down?”

  Balfruss’s grin was a little vicious. “Oh, they’ll come down in a few minutes.”

  “We need to hurry,” said Tammy, moving towards the front of the line again. The sky was changing colour and hints of red were starting to creep in around the edges of the blue. Night was fast approaching.

  CHAPTER 10

  King Bowyn, husband to Queen Talandra of Seveldrom, had made the long and boring journey into the west and then southwards to Shael. By himself he could have covered the distance in half the time, but as King there were formalities that had to be observed. Plus he was required to travel with a certain number of guards for his protection, and then an assortment of people to look after him as if he were a child. On top of that were the hundreds of Seve warriors following on foot a day behind his party.

  At times like these he missed the old days when he could just look after himself.

  On the journey to Shael he’d been required to stop off in the capital of Yerskania and pay his respects to Queen Morganse. While there he’d also passed along a few letters from his wife, who had become good friends with the Queen.

  Further south a contingent from Drassia met them on the border and as King it would have been rude to ride straight past them without stopping. What followed was several hours of conversation about trade and the price of silk from the far east. Eventually Bowyn managed to extricate himself before he was forced to set up camp for the night.

  At least the journey was finally over. Now he had a few hours to spare and explore Oshoa, the capital of Shael, before the first of many tedious meetings.

  One of the reasons for this trip was to bring fresh warriors from Seveldrom to Shael. The war had not only damaged the entire structure of the country, it had also d
ecimated the population. In other countries the war had left scars, but it was always spoken about in the past. Only three years had passed, but here in Shael it was as if the war had ended yesterday.

  As they were being driven out of Shael, the Vorga had burned and destroyed everything in their path. When Bowyn’s party had crossed over the border it was as apparent as if someone had drawn a line on the ground with chalk. One moment the hills were green and the trees healthy. The next minute the earth was a blackened husk and the trees were nothing more than charred skeletons.

  As he walked through the streets of Oshoa, Bowyn finally recognised something familiar from what he knew about Shael. It had been a country renowned for its architecture, art and creativity, and thankfully the capital had only been damaged a little during the conflict.

  Impossibly tall twisted buildings stood alongside glass-domed houses that shone in the sun like monstrous gemstones. Riding through the streets Bowyn had seen numerous spires rising up above the homes and businesses. From pointed spires belonging to ancient churches, to narrow stone towers of learning, to blocky towers attached to schools of philosophy. The gaudy stood shoulder to shoulder with remarkable feats of ingenuity that didn’t seem possible. It was a city of dreams where radical ideas were embraced and allowed to flourish in such rich creative soil.

  Bowyn doubted anyone here was expected to follow in their father’s footsteps and take over the family business. Thankfully that was a long time ago and he’d managed to step off the path that had been set out for him.

  At almost every crossroads there were fountains adorned with mythical beings so wondrous they must have stepped out of someone’s imagination. Statues of famous poets, playwrights, architects and philosophers were scattered throughout the city. After such a long journey, even a short walk through the streets of Oshoa was refreshing. The shadow that had fallen across the rest of the country had been driven away here. The people were more wary and less welcoming than their reputation for hospitality suggested, but after all that they had endured he couldn’t blame them. He also noticed the armed guards patrolling the streets gave the local people some comfort.

  The wall surrounding the city looked new and more warriors kept watch at all hours of the day and night. The city was maintaining the illusion of being a place dedicated to higher thought and art, but he knew more troops were being trained nearby by warriors from Seveldrom and veterans from Shael. The country would not be caught again without a more sturdy defence.

  Bowyn wandered into a large park at the heart of the city. For a time he was able to pretend that he was alone and not shadowed by four royal guards. There were still a few brightly coloured flowers on display but most of the beds were just patches of black earth. A light breeze stirred the trees and the branches rustled overhead as he walked along curving stone pathways.

  At the centre of the park he found a small pond surrounded by benches. A few ducks pottered about on the water and a small boy was feeding them peas as his mother watched with an indulgent smile. It made Bowyn think of his own little boy back at home. Out of habit he reached for his tobacco pouch, but then scowled as he remembered it was long gone.

  “Majesty,” said one of his guards and, looking around, Bowyn saw a squad of six royal guards from Shael spread out around the pond. A moment later a tall burly Seve man strode towards him. Although they’d only met once before, Bowyn recognised him immediately.

  His moment of peace was over. With a small sigh Bowyn stood up to shake hands with his brother-in-law, Thias, the Regent of Shael.

  “Bowyn,” said Thias, his grizzled face showing something bordering on mild disdain.

  “Thias,” replied Bowyn, not taking offence as he was used to it. He knew his brother-in-law didn’t think he was good enough for his sister. It was the same with her other brother, Hyram. No one would ever be good enough for her. They had both made that abundantly clear to him on his wedding day, which should have been a wonderful and happy occasion. Instead he’d been threatened by each of them, at different times during the day, and told in explicit detail what would happen to him if he hurt their sister. Being told he would be buried where no one would ever find his body had made for an even more uncomfortable and tense day than he’d anticipated. Bowyn hadn’t mentioned it to his new bride, mostly to keep the peace, but also because she could take care of herself and would’ve been angry at her brothers.

  “Would you care to sit?” asked Bowyn, trying to be civil.

  “I prefer to stand,” said Thias, turning sideways to stare out over the pond.

  “As you wish,” said Bowyn, sitting down again and lounging on the bench as if he were still alone. Formality required that he stand as well, but Thias had practically turned his back, which was equally impolite. Tired of all the ridiculous rules Bowyn closed his eyes and listened to the faint quacking of the ducks and the small boy’s delight as they huddled around him for more treats.

  “How is my sister?” Thias finally asked.

  “I left a stack of letters from her at your office,” said Bowyn, not bothering to open his eyes. Perhaps if he stayed here long enough everyone would just go away and leave him in peace.

  “I know. I was asking you.”

  Bowyn cracked one eye open and found Thias glaring at him. It was a struggle not to grin and he was only partially successful. “She’s well, pregnant again and she thinks it will be a girl this time. I don’t mind, as long as the child is healthy.”

  “On that we agree,” said Thias, leaving out the unspoken part, but Bowyn heard it nonetheless. It was the only thing they would ever agree on.

  Closing his eyes again Bowyn remembered a time during the war when he’d sat like this, pretending the western army wasn’t out there ready to besiege the city of Charas. It had been a much simpler time, more terrifying, but most days he still missed the camaraderie and his old friends. Many of them had died during the war, and he’d not seen the others for years, but he still thought about them often.

  “And how is your lovely young wife?” said Bowyn, watching as a nerve twitched in Thias’s jaw. “Any news?”

  He knew it was petty to try and get under his brother-in-law’s skin, but he couldn’t help it. Despite Bowyn’s heritage and upbringing Thias thought he was nothing more than a common farmer’s son. He had yet to meet the Queen of Shael but Bowyn had been told she was young, pretty and, after a few years of marriage, still not pregnant. There were a number of rumours swirling, that one or both were infertile, or that Thias preferred the company of men. Whatever the reason, the people of Shael were still without an heir, and now more than ever they needed some hope for the future.

  Bowyn knew the truth from his wife, which was a very mundane reason about it not being the right time yet, but he enjoyed getting under Thias’s skin.

  “Maybe I could give you a few tips?” he suggested with a wink.

  “Listen to me, you little shit,” hissed Thias, looming over Bowyn, who just grinned at him. He knew Thias would never hit him as etiquette forbade it, plus they were both being watched by guards who would intervene. But just for once Bowyn wished Thias would do it. Ignore all of the chains of office and get into a proper brawl. He’d not drawn a blade on anyone in years and hadn’t been blind drunk since the war.

  Thias cut off suddenly and his expression changed, melting to neutrality and then something bordering on a smile.

  “Good morning,” said a warm and pleasant voice.

  Bowyn saw a tall young woman with golden skin, brown hair and glittering green eyes. Her features were elegant and she moved lightly on her feet like a dancer. Even without seeing the additional royal guards he knew who she was.

  Thias stepped back as Bowyn stood up and bowed deeply to the Queen.

  “Your Highness,” said Bowyn. “It’s an absolute pleasure to finally meet you. Your husband and I were just getting to know each other a little better.”

  Queen Olivia glanced at her husband and simply raised one eyebrow. Thias cleared
his throat and moved to her side.

  “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to talk later in an official capacity,” said the Queen, “but I wanted to thank you personally for bringing more warriors to Shael.”

  “You’re most welcome, your Majesty,” said Bowyn, bowing again. “My wife and I take our debts and obligations very seriously.”

  Thias frowned, thinking it was a jibe at him, and Bowyn said nothing to dissuade him. Let him stew on that.

  “I know it must have been a long and tiring journey,” said Olivia, approaching Bowyn, who tensed as much as the royal guards around him. But all she did was embrace him. After a couple of startled seconds he put his arms lightly around her. He didn’t know if protocol forbade it but right now he didn’t care. Bowyn was half the size of the guards looming all around, but even to him the Queen felt small and fragile in his arms. The country was barely holding on and this slender reed of a girl, and her thick-headed husband, were all that stood in the way of chaos. “I’m so glad you came,” said the Queen. “Our family is very small and it’s so nice to meet another member.”

  It was a sweet thing to say and Bowyn had to bite his tongue and repress his first instinct to make a dirty joke. Before he could think of anything nice to say in return she gave him a kiss on the cheek and moved away.

  Thias frowned at him and then followed his wife, leaving Bowyn alone with his bodyguards and the ducks. The boy and his mother had wandered away and now a comfortable silence settled on the pond. Bowyn stayed for a while, staring at the water and contemplating the road that had brought him to this moment. He’d often dreamed about his future, but not once had he seen this as a possibility. Shaking his head before one of his melancholy spells fell over him Bowyn set off for the palace.

  This time, with his thoughts turned inwards, he barely saw the remarkable sights of the city. The next few days would be taken up with meetings that would soon run into one another. After that there would be a formal banquet or two, although he’d been told not to expect great extravagance. There was little enough food to spare and the Queen was not about to waste it on a grand gesture. Perhaps it would be a simple meal with just a few guests. That would suit him and make it slightly easier to pretend he was somewhere else.