by Aaron Hodges
Eric laughed. “Coward.”
He reeled back as Laurel’s fist smashed him in the face. His teeth rattled and his nose went crunch before her weight slammed him into the ground. She crashed down on top of him, hands grasping for his throat, eyes just an inch from his own. He choked for breath as she began to squeeze.
Laurel smiled at him. “As I said, the bounty for you is dead or alive, Eric. The only reason you’re alive is to make my life easier. Better you walk yourself to the noose, rather than me carrying you. So let this be your final warning,” the pressure on his throat eased. “Do not test me.”
Eric coughed as she released him and stood up. “Now,” she walked towards Enala, her sword sliding from its sheath. “Why, Enala, did you give a fake name?”
Enala stood her ground, glaring up at the taller woman, fists clenched at her side. She would die before she gave the secret away.
Closing his eyes in defeat, Eric croaked out an answer. “Because she is being hunted.”
Laurel looked back. “By who?” greed flickered in her eyes.
Eric shook his head. “No,” he paused for a heartbeat, weighing up the wisdom of his next decision. Laurel might be out for herself, but he had not mistaken the disgust in her eyes when she spoke of Thaster’s dark magic. “She is not hunted by any mortal force. She is pursued by the servants of Archon himself.”
Laurel’s face paled in the twilight. “What?” she looked from Eric to Enala. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You heard him,” Enala glared back.
“You’re joking?” fear shook Laurel’s voice.
Eric regained his feet. “It’s no joke. Enala happens to be the last person alive who can wield the Sword of Light. She is the only one left who can stop Archon. So unless you enjoy the thought of a world ruled by dark magic, I suggest hers is one bounty you don’t collect.”
Silence fell. At last Laurel spoke again. “This is some trick…”
“It’s not,” they replied in unison.
Laurel glanced between them again, uncertainty written on her face. Then she shook her head. “You’re both delusional.”
“It’s the truth,” Eric replied, resolute. “Antonia and Jurrien have already fallen. It won’t be long before Archon comes. Then everyone will have a decision to make. The dark or the light. Sooner or later, you will have to pick a side, Laurel.”
Laurel waved a hand, as though trying to dismiss his words. “Be quiet, the both of you. I’ve heard enough of your nonsense for one night. Sleep, or don’t. I’m going to rest. And don’t bother trying anything, I don’t need to be awake to keep a couple of unruly Magicker’s under control,” with that Laurel turned and walked a few paces down the hill and slumped to the grass.
Despite what she’d said about sleep, she sat with her legs pulled up to her chest and her head on her knees, staring out into the darkness.
Eric looked at Enala. This was the closest they’d come to privacy in days, and there were things they needed to discuss.
She answered his first question before he could ask it. “Where did it come from, the magic? How…”
So he’d been right, Enala had no idea. “It came from you. Just like your ancestors, you have powerful magic within you. As for why it chose last night to appear, well, we were lucky. Alastair once told me magic only emerges on a Magicker’s birthday. The age varies, depending on the person and what they experience growing up. Happy coincidence that Thaster chose today to fight you,” he paused and smiled. “Happy birthday, by the way.”
Enala nodded. “The last few days I kept feeling this pressure within me, whenever I was angry. Last night, it just snapped, like something within me had shattered. And for the first time, that pressure was released.”
“I’m just glad it happened,” he smiled. “Whatever dark magic Thaster was using, it was no longer a fair fight. I think we’d both be dead by now if you hadn’t taken them by surprise.”
To his shock, Enala began to sob. “But there were so many people, so many that had nothing to do with the fight. How many died because of me?”
“Enala, it was not your fault,” he reached out and gripped her wrist. “You could not have controlled your power without training. I can barely restrain mine, even with everything Alastair taught me. And besides,” his face hardened. “It’s not like they were innocent. They knew what was happening, that we were slaves fighting for our very lives. They made their decision when they joined that man.”
Enala’s sobs started to subside. When she finally looked up her eyes still watered, but her voice was strong. “Will you teach me, Eric?”
Eric smiled. “I can try. Now?”
Enala shrugged. “At least it might take our minds off our stomachs.”
Eric nodded. “Okay. Well, the first thing a Magicker must learn is meditation…”
*************
Laurel sat in the darkness, listening to the rhythmic breathing of the two young Magickers. She could feel their magic; powerful, bubbling below the surface, seeking its freedom as they sank deeper into their minds. Even so, it took little effort to keep the blue and red glows in check.
It left her mind free to wander.
Who are these two? The question bounced around her head. Had they actually spoken the truth. Could Enala wield the infamous Sword of Light Was Archon really hunting her?
An icy breeze swept across the hilltop. She shivered, pulling the cloak tighter around her and burying her head into her knees. It could not be true: the tribe had heard nothing of their tale, and as nomads the Baronian’s picked up most of the gossip in the Three Nations.
She shook her head, her thoughts changing direction. In less than twenty-four hours, her world had collapsed. The girl’s latent magic had been undetectable until the moment she released it – and by then it was far too late to stop. Laurel’s magic only prevented a Magicker from tapping into their powers; once unleashed, there was nothing she could do but run.
It had taken all she had to outrun the flames. Only the head start provided by her magic’s warning allowed her to get clear. The other Baronian’s had not been so lucky. She guessed less than half their number had escaped the firestorm which followed.
Still though, more than enough to carry word to the other tribes. To carry word of Laurel’s failure.
The other chiefs would not take Thaster’s death lightly. They would be out for blood, out to show the world they were not to be trifled with. The word would go out, a list of those responsible made. The heads of Eric and Enala would be at the top of that list. For her failure, Laurel would come a close second.
Regardless of her own desires, Laurel would not be welcomed back into the fold. Yet who else would want a disgraced Magicker such as herself? Who would be powerful enough to protect her from the wrath of the Baronian chiefs?
No, she would have to disappear.
Thankfully, the bounty on Eric’s head would go a long way towards accomplishing that task.
Fifteen
Eric hesitated before the gates of Chole, shrinking back from the great stone walls. The great blocks of granite stood stark and forbidding, a grim reminder of the fate waiting for him within. Behind him, Laurel gave him a shove, propelling him through the open gates. Enala walked beside him, head held high as she returned to the city of her birth.
Inhaling, Eric struggled for calm and forced himself to continue. Tears leapt unbidden as memories of Inken rose in his mind. It was here they had met, here where he’d first discovered his love for the feisty bounty hunter. Their first kiss had not been far from this very gate. Now five hundred miles separated them and for all he knew, Inken was already dead.
He rubbed his eyes to wipe away the hot tears, determined to hide his weakness from Laurel. Sniffing back his sorrow, he forced down the memories. They had other things to worry about now.
Even so, Eric could not help but pause again as they emerged from the shadow of the gate, overwhelmed by the change a few weeks had brought t
o Chole. This was a different city from the one they’d left behind. Everywhere he looked shoots of green now sprang from the earth, where before there had been only dust. Grass grew between the street tiles and vines dangled from drainage pipes, swaying in the breeze. A drizzle of rain swept through the streets, sending people scrambling for shelter.
Eric blinked, seeing then the other change to the city. Before Chole had been empty – the Dying City people called it – and all but the hardiest of men stayed clear. The city was left to the desperate and the criminal.
Now, everywhere Eric looked people moved through the streets, hurrying about their business. Even here by the gates, in what had been the poorest districts, civilisation had returned. It seemed news of the rains return had spread fast, and many a brave soul had decided to gamble on the cities resurrection.
“So it’s true,” Eric turned at Laurel’s words. “I could hardly believe the stories, but the rain has returned.”
“It has,” Enala’s voice cracked with emotion and Eric saw the tears in her eyes. “It has changed so much, in such a little time. I only wish my parents had lived to see it. Thank you, Eric,” she smiled at him.
Eric nodded and gave a short smile.
“This was you?” Laurel asked, raising an eyebrow.
“A first step in a long journey,” Eric shrugged.
Laurel shook her head and he thought he glimpsed a flash of compassion in her eyes. Then she turned away. “Come, we need to move. With all these people you might be recognised. I wouldn’t want someone else trying to claim your bounty.”
Eric sighed, glancing at Enala. They were running out of time, but an opportunity to flee had yet to come. He reached within, but his magic remained tantalisingly out of reach. They were powerless against Laurel.
Laurel led them through the bustling streets, her eagerness to leave behind the crowds betrayed by the pace she set. Eric searched for familiar landmarks as they moved, but the maze of Chole’s streets seemed to have only grown worse with the newcomers. But he could see from Enala’s smile she at least knew where they were.
Laurel, however, was struggling. Baronian’s were not welcome in most cities, even one with a reputation like Chole’s. But Laurel must have been here at least a few times, as she finally led them into the more prosperous streets around the central square. The crowds grew larger and the streets bristled with street venders plying their food and wares.
“Don’t suppose you could spare me a last meal?” Eric asked, nodding towards a stand with chicken on the grill. His stomach rumbled; they had not eaten in days.
“No!” Eric looked up in surprise at the anger in her voice. He had missed the growing frustration in Laurel’s movements. “There’s no time. We need to get off the streets.”
Eric frowned as Laurel gave him a hard shove. What was she so nervous about? Surely she did not really think someone would recognise him. Unless he used his magic, there was nothing to mark him as the so called ‘demon boy’ of Oaksville.
No, it had to be something else.
“What are you running from, Laurel?” Enala asked from beside him.
“Quiet!” Laurel snapped. “I told you, I won’t have my prize stolen from me.”
“You don’t really expect us to believe that, do you?” Enala persisted.
Laurel spun, her hand drifting towards her dagger. “I warned you –”
“Laurel!” a shout from nearby cut her off.
Their captor spun at the sound of her name, hand switching from the dagger to the hilt of her short sword.
Eric looked across and saw three men muscling their way through the crowd towards them. Straggled beards covered their faces and scars crisscrossed their arms. Each sported a black arm band and held greatswords in their meaty hands. The thugs wore plain clothes, but Eric guessed their usual retire was the black armour of the Baronian’s.
“The Hawk would like a word with you, Laurel. About Thaster’s untimely demise,” the first of the men growled.
The blood fled from Laurel’s face. Whoever Hawk was, he clearly terrified her. Drawing her sword, she held it tight in front of her, hands trembling. She glanced at Eric and Enala, regret flashing in her eyes.
Then she vanished.
The men paused, and then started to laugh. “Well, well, look lads, I told you so. See the coward run?” they looked around the street, searching for the Magicker. “Or perhaps she just likes to fight dirty,” they laughed again.
Goosebumps rose on Eric’s neck as a dark light seeped from the man who led. “Come on then, Laurel. Come and get us. We shall see which magic is greater – the dark or the light.”
The men edged into a circle, blades out, the darkness encircling them. Their eyes roamed the street, searching for Laurel. Eric had no idea what dark magic they were employing, but he guessed its touch would leave a mark.
Either way, the men had not yet taken notice of Eric or Enala. They backed away together, trying to put the crowd between themselves and the Baronian thugs. They moved slowly, doing their best not to draw attention to themselves. When they reached a nearby alley, they turned and sprinted between the buildings.
Enala took the lead, Eric struggling to keep up as she raced through the twisting nooks and alleyways of Chole. Her knowledge of the city was priceless now – within minutes they had left the Baronians far behind. Eric glanced back as they ran, searching for sign of pursuit, but all looked quiet.
They raced on all the same, eager to extend their lead and lose any invisible followers.
Half an hour later they drew to a stop in the shadow of a library.
“Who were those men?” Enala asked.
“Baronian’s, I’m guessing. Laurel must have made a few enemies when she didn’t protect the Baronian camp from your magic. We’re just lucky they didn’t recognise us,” he paused and turned his mind inwards. His magic surged at his touch, free at last. “Speaking of which, I think we’ve lost her as well. My magic is back,” he felt a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving Alastair’s blade in Laurel’s hands, but he could do little about it now.
Enala grinned. “Well that’s something, because we’re now unarmed and alone in a city of thieves. A few weeks can’t have changed it that much. Where are we going?”
Eric quickly described what he remembered from Antonia’s vision: the steps down from the ramparts, the narrow path which separated the buildings from the city walls, and the vines that had covered the granite blocks, hiding a dark secret beneath them.
At the end Enala nodded. “I think I know the place, although last I heard the vines had withered and died. Although now that I think of it, they’ve been there as long as anyone can remember.”
“Hopefully there is still a way past them,” Eric whispered.
They started off again, moving at a slower place this time, neither eager to reach the gateway and the cursed world waiting for them. Eric remembered all too well the deadly land beyond, and the creature lurking there. They still had no idea how to defeat it; he just hoped his magic would be enough.
It took half an hour to cross the city, but they managed it without incident. The streets grew quiet as they approached their destination, the citizens retreating into their homes to wait out the night. Whatever changes had enveloped Chole, the growing fear on the faces of passers-by suggested the night still belong to the unsavoury.
They stood together beneath the wall, staring up at the ancient granite blocks. Vines hung from the battlements high above, but Enala had been right – they were long dead. Whatever magic had sustained them through the centuries, it had not been enough to save them from the drought. Yet somehow, their death did not seem to have been permanent. Fresh green shoots now sprang from the dry husks of the old vines, and white flowers sprinkled the wall. Their aroma drifted down, their rich honey-like scent lingering in their noses.
“What do we do?” Enala asked.
Eric leaned back, trying to see how high the vines went. “I’m not sure. Alastair sa
id only those with Earth magic could control the vines. But maybe there is another way through.”
Enala gave a wry grin. “Like burning them?”
Chuckling, Eric shrugged. “Maybe, but we’ll use my magic for now. There is a lot you need to learn before you try to use your magic consciously. But we’ll save that lesson for another day.”
Lightning crackled as Eric drew a bolt of energy from the sky. It struck the vines with a crash and a roar. Blue fire raced along the half-dead tendrils, burning up browned leaves and new growth alike.
As the flames died out, the remains of the vines fell to ash around them. Beneath, the empty abyss of the portal beckoned. They bathed in its flickering glow, its light swirling away into infinity. The dark energy danced in their eyes, drawing them into its embrace. The power tugged at Eric’s soul, but remembering Antonia’s warning, he resisted.
Beside him, Enala leaned towards the portal. He grasped her hand and pulled her back.
“Careful, Enala. Archon cursed this place a long time ago. His taint is everywhere, do not let it tempt you, or you risk being corrupted.”
She gave a wan smile, her face pale. “Okay,” she looked up. “At least that was easy.”
Eric closed his eyes, summoning his courage. “No, this is just the beginning. Beyond, the real battle begins. Brace yourself.”
They leapt together into the abyss.
*************
Laurel watched as the two stepped into the portal, heart thudding hard in her chest. It had been no easy task following them through the city – in fact, she had lost them a few blocks back. Only the surge of Eric’s magic allowed her to find them again.
Now she wished she hadn’t. She could not believe what she was witnessing. The power emanating from the abyss reached her even in the shadows of the nearby alley. Its dark taint spoke to her, called to her. But she had overheard Eric’s words, and struggled to close herself to its power.
