Madness and Magic- The Seers' War

by Greg Curtis

  “I like my life. I truly do. Or I did until … this. And I have to hope that things will return to how they were in time.” But he was slowly running out of hope. In the end maybe he would go to his family.

  “But they won't.” She looked him in the eyes, her expression serious.

  “You don't know that.”

  “Yes. We do.” She sighed sadly. “We have debated telling you this. In the wrong hands this knowledge could prove dangerous. And you make decisions we do not understand. But I think it's time.”

  She took a deep breath. “You've wondered why we have acted as we have these past weeks and months. It has seemed strange to you. Our setting up our Missions. Bringing those with gifts back to our lands. Others have thought the same. But the truth is that we had been preparing for this time for many years.”

  “We have among our number many seers. Some with the gift of foretelling. Others with the sight and hearing of things far away. And we have kept an eye on your realm for a great many years. We knew from the day that King Reagan had a daughter that this time would come. Because he loved his daughter Amberlee, above all else.”

  “King Raegan?” Baen wasn't sure he could credit that, even though he knew what the Fae could do. He had seen their magic. Felt it. And it was very powerful. It was for want of a better description, everywhere. It permeated the very air and seeped into the pores of the skin. Little wonder the Fae then were so magically gifted. Or why until now most chose not to leave their homeland. Still, she was talking about a time more than fifty years ago.

  “That can't be.” He told her.

  “But it is. All of what is happening now was foretold all those years ago. The story of a King who would love his daughter more than his sons, and the terrible consequences that that would bring.”

  “Everything that has happened has come from that love. When Andris and Barnly – both desperate for the throne – realised this fact, they extended their feud to include her. And when her father bestowed upon Amberlee his favour, she became a prize in their endless battle. The prize. She became a part of the throne as signified by the circlet her father bestowed upon her. Whoever she chose to be her husband would become King, over and above the claims of both Andris and Barnly.”

  “Perhaps he thought that that would stop his sons from fighting. Or perhaps he just didn't care about anything but her. Regardless, it bought about his death.”

  “For the first time in their entire lives the brother's got together with a single goal. To end her claim to the throne. They intended to kill her. But their father stepped in and a battle ensued. At the end of it the father and Andris were both killed and Amberlee fled. But while both brothers fought their father to the death, it was Barnly who struck the fatal blow, and word escaped of his act. After that though the crime was covered up, he too had to flee. Which left Richmond, the son of the eldest brother, to be crowned.”

  “After that the feud continued, but now it was between uncle and nephew; Barnly and Richmond. But nothing deadly could ever have happened – because neither could trust that the other wouldn't have some plan to release the truth of what had happened after their death. It is their ultimate weapon. The one they can never use while they live. It would destroy all of their dreams of power. But they will absolutely use it if they are dead. Which leaves them in a terrible limbo.”

  “So the Duke tried to take the throne by force. He failed and was imprisoned in Alldrake Castle, but not killed. If it had been Barnly though who had taken the throne, he would likely have done the same to his nephew.”

  “And then somewhere in the middle of all that Amberlee wed Hardy Tomkins, Lord of Astoria. Once married, the claim Hardy Tomkins had to the throne of Grenland superceded that of King Richmond. She had her father's favour, which made her husband King. Neither the King nor his uncle could allow that. And so having already hidden all knowledge of the claim they then murdered the Lord of Astoria.”

  “After that, somehow, Barnly recaptured his sister while Richmond kept the throne. There was an uneasy truce between them, because neither of them could allow the truth to come out. For a time things remained calm.”

  “Then, having failed with military force, Barnly turned to magic to gain himself the throne, always making sure to keep the sister close, just in case. She was a bargaining chip if needed and his protection if the King finally tried to kill him. But even as he turned to dark magic, his nephew turned to technology which was just as dark. The war has escalated to be a fight between curses and demonic sacrifices against poison gasses and engines of destruction. And they have both slaughtered secretly but endlessly in their quest for power.

  “And all this while we did nothing save look on.”

  “However, when the Duke attacked our people, some of us decided to act. We decided it was time to limit the terrible damage of this war. To save as many as we can.”

  “What war?” Baen was caught by surprise by her claim of a war. There was no war. “The Duke is locked away in a dungeon somewhere and the King had attacked no one.”

  “No. He's not. He escaped. Richmond in his endless pursuit of technology that will defeat magic forgot one thing – cold iron is poison to my people – but not to yours. And it does not block your magic.”

  “Duke Barnly escaped within a matter of days of being caught. Someone with magic broke him free. And he has been on the run ever since. Now, even if King Richmond could afford for him to die, he cannot claim that he killed him because it would be found out to be a lie. So he simply pretends he's locked away in his dungeons, even as he hunts him down.”

  “He also hunts the Duke's magical allies. He knows not who they are, only that they have magic. So the King has begun a purge of all magic from the realm. His thought is surely that in this way he will make life impossible for his uncle's allies. They will be unable to aid him. And perhaps at the end if there is no magic for his uncle to take, then he will be rendered powerless.”

  That actually made sense, Baen realised. It was still utter madness. But it explained perfectly what the King was doing with his endless decrees. Killing enough of those with gifts to send a message of fear. And driving the rest deeper into hiding, so that the Duke could not find them – assuming he wanted to.

  “So?”

  “So sooner or later he will make a decree that as all magic is evil, all those with it must be killed. And the realm will fall into chaos, because there are many more with gifts than anyone suspected. Most will run, but some will fight. And then the King will hunt them down with his new soldiers and their terrible weapons.”

  “You cannot fight what is coming.”

  She was right. Baen knew that as he thought on what she'd told him. He could not fight that. No one could. So what was he doing by staying here? What was he achieving? And yet this was still his home. And that meant something.

  “Thank you. You've given me much to think on.” And Baen was truly grateful for her telling him what she had. “But I cannot abandon my home just because I have a gift of the great tree.”

  He paused for a moment, thinking. Realising that there was something he had to tell her. That he should have told her a long time ago. Twelve years ago in fact.

  “Caris says I am a man torn. Two homes, two families, two realms. And she's right. I am. I always have been. I cannot abandon either. Even when I returned here as a boy to this world, I brought some of yours with me. And I regretted every day, leaving yours behind. Leaving you behind. Without a proper explanation. I was a child, but still I should have handled that better.”

  “For that I am truly sorry. And I will try to do better.”

  “But … for the moment … until there is no hope left, here I will stay. I will help my people.”

  Her response wasn't quite what he'd expected. In a heartbeat he found himself wrapped up in her arms, being squeezed so tightly that he couldn't breathe and that his ribs felt like they were about to break. Somehow he kept forgetting just how strong she was. But also how nice
it was to have her in his arms again. Despite everything he was disappointed when she finally let him go and stepped back.

  “You have grown into a surprising man, Baen Walkerton,” she told him with what might almost have been tears in her eyes “A man of great contradictions. You surround yourself with this” she gestured helplessly around the store, “… stuff. This wealth and these books. And that terrible machine you ride! You are very much a human and a trader. And yet somewhere buried inside all of that lies the soul of a true Fae. Foolish and yet wise all at once.”

  Though he thanked her for her words, Baen wasn't really sure how to take what she'd said. He wasn't sure if she was praising him or not. And he wasn't sure why she was saying it either. Did she fear that he was going to die? Because it almost sounded as though she was casting judgement on him before the end. Did she know something he didn't?

  If she did, she didn't share it with him, leaving him hurriedly to go downstairs and gather the days pages from the press. Leaving him a little confused as well. Damn he liked her! And maybe, he thought, she liked him too. But of course this was never the time to say any of that. Not if she thought he was going to die.

  But he didn't accept her claim that there was nothing he could do – even if she was worried for him. He could make his home a magical fortress if one was needed. He could do a great many more things too. Why couldn't he do something about the rest?

  Baen started to let his thoughts wander over what he needed to do. Because if she was right then there were dark times ahead for those like him. In fact things looked bleak. But there was also always something you could do. Some way to fight back.

  He just had to think of it.

  Chapter Twenty One

  The door to her chamber squeaked quietly. It always squeaked, even when she kept putting oil on the hinges to stop it. It was one of the things in her life that annoyed her. But this night it saved her life. Immediately she heard the sound as quiet as it was, it woke her up and made every nerve in her body jump. Someone was coming into her room. Creeping into the chamber from the sound of his soft foot falls on the hard wooden floors.

  It was the middle of the night and no one should be creeping into her bed chamber. But her eyes could not pierce the darkness to make out who it was. Quietly she reached underneath the covers to her bedside table, let her fingers fumble around a little, until finally they grasped the pair of scissors she'd left on top of it.

  They felt good in her grip. Heavy and sharp, and she knew that whoever the shadowy figure was creeping towards her bed, he was going to hate them. And she could just make out a shadowy form, tiptoeing towards her.

  Then, without warning the intruder raised his arm above his head and leapt for her.

  Dariya reacted instinctively, trying to push him away as he fell on her, forgetting all her training and even the fact that she had heavy blankets on top of her. But somehow that was exactly what she needed to do. The knife in his hands was stopped by the blankets while the strength of the fear powering her arms allowed her to somehow toss him off to the floor before he was fully on top of her. It gave her the advantage.

  He was caught by surprise by her move and fell heavily. And he was still lying on his back on the floor as she rolled out of bed with the scissors in her hand to stand over him.

  But he wasn't done. The man swiped at her legs with the knife even as she was beginning to feel as though she had the fight and she had to jump hurriedly out of the way to avoid being sliced. He was fast!

  A heartbeat after his arm had passed her legs she fell to her knees on top of him, pressed all her weight into his stomach and tried to drive the pair of scissors deep into his chest.

  But that didn't work. Even as she was bringing the scissors down he somehow rolled causing her to miss, and then hurled her into the wall. How in all the hells had he done that?!

  How though, didn't matter she realised even as she bounced off the wall and tried to find her footing. He was getting up! And he was still armed! She gave up on trying to stand and simply leapt on him from where she was, scissors still in hand, and this time she finally managed to find his flesh. But for her trouble she took the impact of his knee in her side.

  The man screeched in pain and tried to pull the scissors free even as he bucked her off. But she had driven them in deep so that they had gone right through his shoulder. In fact they had almost reached the floorboards. He wasn't going to pull them free. He also couldn't hold a knife or anything else with that arm. The battle was hers!

  But even as she was breathing a sigh of relief and trying to get up again, she discovered how wrong she was. The bedside table suddenly moved, and then a split second later was flying at her. He'd grabbed it with his good arm and flung it at her. And his aim was good!

  Dariya cried out in pain as the table caught her a glancing blow on her side, and then fell to the floor as it smashed into the wall behind her. But she didn't have time to give in to her pain. Once more he was getting up, and she was sure he'd pulled the scissors free.

  She had to get up!

  Desperately she rolled over, grabbed on to whatever she could find which turned out to be the remains of her table, and used it to get to her feet. Then she turned hurriedly to face him, only to discover that he was already leaping for her, weapon in hand. She barely managed to get the table leg in front of her before he was on her.

  But that proved to be enough, as somehow, despite being unable to see anything clearly in the darkness, she caught him in the neck.

  He staggered back, grunting in pain and clutching at his throat, and before she even thought about it she brought the makeshift club smashing down on his head. That brought him crashing down to the floor, writhing in pain, and gave her the time she needed to go to her writing desk, open the draw and pull out a pistol.

  This time she knew the fight was hers!

  “Attackers!” Dariya yelled out as she stood over the writhing body of her attacker, her pistol aimed straight at his heart. “Everyone up!”

  Soon her fellow Riders were up and running along the hallway with whatever weapons they could find, most of them yelling at one another, trying to work out what was happening. For a few confused seconds it was pandemonium, but fortunately a couple thought to bring lamps with them and that helped to bring some order to things.

  But it also brought an unwelcome surprise. Because the moment the yellow light of the lamp fell on her attacker's face, she recognised him.

  “Mace!” Dariya cried out his name in disbelief. It didn't seem possible that the young man had tried to kill her. He seemed like such a good sort. But she had never had any doubt that his name had been made up. He had chosen a weapon as his name because it sounded intimidating. Just as she had chosen Morningstar for her family name for much the same reason. But she had been a child and he was a grown man. He might have claimed to be eighteen like the other recruits, but she had thought from the start that he was older.

  “What's going on?” Master Thyman growled as he appeared in the doorway.

  “An assassin,” she answered him as she stood above the intruder, keeping her pistol centred on his chest. “He crept into my room with a knife.” She nodded to the blade beside him, and then noticed the oily stain on the steel. “I think it's poisoned.”

  Her would be killer didn't deny the claim. He just kept clutching at his head and crying out each time his fingers found more blood. But there was nothing he could have said anyway. The evidence of his attack was all around.

  “Get him up! Bind him!” The Master ordered the riders. “We'll interrogate him in the main hall shortly.”

  Another flurry of activity followed as the riders leapt to obey him. The would be assassin was flipped on to his stomach, his hands lashed tightly behind his back – something that caused him to cry out as his wound was torn a little wider – and then half dragged and half carried down the hallway since he couldn't stand, to the stairs and the hall below. He cried all the way, probably because his wounds were
opening up, and left a trail of blood behind him.

  Soon after that he was seated in a chair in the middle of the hall and surrounded by a dozen angry Riders.

  “You tried to murder a Rider?!” Master Thyman began, his face filled with thunder. “You know there is only one punishment for that?!”

  Mace didn't answer him. He just sat there bleeding, looking sorry for himself.

  “Answer me Boy!” The Master raised his voice. “Answer me now, or I will have you shot in the courtyard within the hour!”

  “What's going on here?” A new voice entered the conversation unexpectedly, and everybody turned around hurriedly.

  It was the Inquisitor and four of his soldiers, and Dariya was once more caught off guard. What was he doing here in the middle of the night? But her question was answered a second later as the prisoner called out to him.

  “Save me! I tried!”

  Time seemed to stop for a moment, as Dariya and everyone else suddenly realised what had happened. Who the recruit worked for. And for a heartbeat the whole room froze as each side stood there, trying to work out what to do. Then one of the Inquisitor's guards reached for his rifle.