Sun Mage

by John Forrester

  “Follow me…I found a cave.”

  Soon they passed a stand of gnarled oaks and reached a gully that twisted uphill. Around a corner, Talis discovered the entrance to the cave. Ducking inside, he found a broad chamber with a sloping ceiling. The ground was dry. He collected some sticks near the cave’s mouth, fallen from an oak tree that hung over the entrance.

  The sticks sizzled and popped as the fire from Talis’s fingers snaked around them, evaporating the moisture in the wood. Talis felt the warmth from the fire bury into his hands, releasing the cold and fatigue. Mara, Nikulo, and Rikar crept close to the fire, eyes mesmerized by the flames dancing and twisting about.

  Talis glanced at Rikar. He seemed frightened of the flames, as if seeing his father tortured in the Underworld. Talis realized then that Rikar wasn’t a terrible person, just a scared boy trying to be back with his father again. But it was a hopeless quest.

  Later the next day, they spied the vast city of Darkov from miles away. It looked like a blotch of black ink amidst a field of gold. As they hiked closer, Talis could see a crop of wheat, barley, and rye ripe for the harvest. Workers dressed in the same shade of light grey hacked away at the crops, wielding scythes with sun-roasted hands. They eyed them with suspicion, as if they were fools blundering in the wrong direction.

  Then a taskmaster wearing banded leather armor approached Talis and glared at him. He touched a ruby slung around his neck and it glowed with a pulsing light.

  The world went black.

  The next moment Talis was floating amidst a hideous sight: eerie grey wisps danced in a pale green light, ghouls and wraiths and vaporous sentinels hovered in this netherworld. They fixed their attention on Talis, and latched onto his energy body, like leeches to flesh. They searched every part of his being. He resisted the urge to fight, even though he was utterly revolted at their touch.

  A human-shaped sentinel appeared and hissed. “Away from him,” it shouted. “This creature is sacred to the Master.” Eyes of burning embers stared at Talis. “You and your friends are summoned.” A glimmering fabric of scintillating mesh fell over the shadow world, and great jolts and explosions of light banished the lesser beings from sight.

  The scene changed, and Talis was now flying over the same golden fields, past barge-filled rivers, past roads with initiates dressed in blood-red marching in unison, until he reached a vast and bleak city. The sky was choked with dark-grey light. Inside the city, hundreds of pyramidal temples stood proud, formed of layers of black and gold. Beams of dark, electrified light poured into the sky from the tips. Thousands of dwellings, of clay and wood, huddled together as if terrified of the surrounding temples. Training camps buzzed with soldiers in black and gold armor. Banners rippled. Wooden ships painted black wafted lazily along canals slicing through the city. The canals were like a geometric maze speaking riddles through some secret formation. He soared towards the largest temple, towering over the city, shaped as a tetrahedron, one level of black, then another gold as the sun—all in all, forty-eight levels to the top. Mounted on the golden capstone, an enormous black dragon perched, wings stretched for battle, ruby eyes glowering at its domain.

  Aurellia stood under the dragon’s wings. “Come to me,” he said, and stretched out his finger towards Talis’s heart.

  The vision evaporated.

  10. INTO THE NIGHT

  Talis found himself sprawled on the ground. He looked up, the sun shining around the taskmaster, who stared at him curiously. The man pulled Talis to his feet and motioned him towards Darkov. Talis noticed the workers had ceased their labors, holding scythes, gazing at Talis.

  “What happened to you?” Mara whispered as they marched towards the city.

  “A vision…of Darkov.” Talis put a hand to his head and sighed. Remembering the view of the city made his legs and feet feel like iron. And Aurellia’s eyes.

  “Is this a bad idea going to the city?”

  “The worst idea ever…but do we have a choice? We have to find a way to the temple.”

  Mara glanced back at Rikar walking with Nikulo far behind. “Rikar might believe what he says—about the Underworld and the entrance to the temple—but then again Aurellia might be telling him lies. Rikar only wants to help save his father.”

  Talis shook his head. “I sense truth in his story. And the map does have a reverse side. So we remain on guard and see what happens.”

  Twilight returned by the time they reached Darkov’s gates. He lifted his eyes and stared at walls the size of mountains, formed of enormous stones of black and gold. The last rays of sunlight gleamed off the gold and disappeared into the black. Night and day. Death and life. Did the walls contain equal portions of black and gold stones? There was a strange geometric pattern in the walls, shapes within a maze. One second he swore he saw a dragon, then a minotaur, a basilisk, demon’s eyes, and flames of hell. A flush raced through him, sweat beading over his forehead. What was with that accursed wall?

  A soldier, dressed in black and gold armor, marched up to Talis. He gave him an inspecting eye, then saluted. “You will follow me.” The soldier noticed Talis still staring up at the walls. “Necromancers built these walls, with the aid of their undead slaves—thousands of years ago. The gold is from the mouth of the volcanoes high in the Carralides Mountains. The black is from the charred remains of all the magical creatures of the ancient world—sacrificed to build this city.” Then the soldier laughed as if he thought Talis would be the next sacrifice.

  Talis closed his eyes, not wanting the walls to feed on his soul.

  But they did.

  The grating of iron against iron rang out as the enormous city gates opened. Hundreds of eyes flashed inside murder holes, looks of longing and hunger, known only to those taken by the dark lord.

  Then the wild beating of drums shook the ground, deep booming sounds echoing over the city, as if hundreds of giants slammed their clubs against drums the size of houses. Was it the sound of judgement or of war? At that sound the procession stopped, and every man and woman turned and faced the same direction. They placed their thumbs upon their forehead, palms outstretched, bowing towards an enormous temple towering over the city—of black and gold. A dark shape perched at the top. The black dragon. The temple of his vision. Aurellia’s eyes.

  As the drums ceased, he heard his heart thumping against his chest, certain the world’s judgement was coming soon. What would come of all these war preparations? Then Talis heard a man beg for mercy and cry out. He turned and gaped as a soldier cracked a wooden pole against the man’s leg, shattering it.

  “When the drums sound, all will obey,” the soldier shouted, not at the man, but at the others. Then the soldier raised an axe high and let it thud against the man’s neck, spilling blood onto the dusty ground. He mounted the head onto the wooden pole like a trophy, and handed it to a slave to raise at the city gates. Talis grimaced at the sight. Did Rikar call the ruler of this city as Master?

  It was too much to bear. He looked away, straining his eyes to catch some hint of what was to come at the temple looming before him. But just as they were about to turn a corner towards the temple, a sorcerer in scarlet robes, gaunt and chiseled by the elements, raised his hand and stopped them.

  “You will not enter the temple until you’ve been purified by darkness…the master commands it.” His voice was high and staggered, more like singing an eerie song than speaking. He gazed at Talis with such a look that he thought he’d wither. Don’t resist, Talis told himself, and in his mind the world became black, and all the sounds and voices of the city drifted far away. He floated in a pool of inky darkness until it seemed all hope and all light had vanished from him.

  Then the pressure eased from his mind, and his senses came back. Glancing around, he could see Rikar, Mara, and Nikulo shaking their heads, as if afflicted by the same spell.

  “Good…good.” The sorcerer gestured them around the corner.

  The black and gold temple towered before them, so tall it cove
red half of the sky. The gold blazed with sunlight, and the black glistened wet like tar. Two guards draped in crimson and black cloaks stood leering at the slaves passing by. A painting of a black dragon with eyes of ruby adorned the top of the tunnel-like entrance.

  The guards prostrated themselves at the feet of the sorcerer as he approached. Only when he touched the top of their heads did they dare rise. Even then they averted their eyes, refusing direct contact with the sorcerer. The soldiers swung their arms open, pointing inside the entrance with their spears.

  Soon the tunnel turned pitch-black as they strode inside the temple. The sorcerer walked on, although Talis failed to see him anymore. He’d couldn’t see a thing. What frightened him the most was the fact he no longer felt the ground. He walked still, but on what, over what, he was unable to tell.

  A faint light rose slowly, illuminating the air. A mist really, millions of filaments of twisting shadows and putrid green light. The sorcerer was gone. Rikar appeared far above, rising higher and higher. With Mara on his left, and Nikulo on his right, Talis felt the desire to pull them close. But some ethereal black strings wrapped around their forms, and pulled them away.

  They disappeared. He shouted their names, desperate to bring them back. But then the filaments wrapped around Talis, swirling him up in a great churning sea, rising ever higher. He could see the mist thinning now, and instead of sky, he realized he was still inside the temple. Directly above him was a hole in the black and gold pyramid. He soared through and landed at the foot of the dragon he’d seen in his vision. Spread before him was the vast and bleak city of Darkov.

  “The greatest city in the world…they’ll treat you as a king,” Aurellia said, standing next to Rikar. “Whatever your heart desires, you’ll have it. Darkov holds a hundred-fold the riches of the other powerful cities. It possesses the world’s most beautiful women. They bathe in gold each morning, and let the heat of the sun kiss their skin as it rises in the sky. Your hands will caress these beauties until only the desire for war will outweigh the strength of their enchantments.

  “And to war you’ll go, for tomorrow you must make your journey into the Underworld. Your destiny and mine awaits. For now, enjoy the luxuries of this fine city. Feast and devour the exotic foods. Drink the wines. Indulge as you please.” Aurellia raised an eyebrow, and turned, as if to leave.

  Rikar bowed low, his face proud.

  “I must go now,” Aurellia said. “Speak with Lilith—she'll lead you to the feasting chamber.”

  Rising, Rikar stared haughtily at Talis. “Now you see the truth to the words I’d spoken before. Look around you. Naru is nothing compared to this.”

  Talis was about to speak when a figure graced the entrance of a stairwell, a form as beautiful and seductive as the city. She allowed the moonlight to bathe her body: alabaster skin that gleamed in the soft light. The expression on her face was one of a lover expecting his return after years apart. Her eyes drew him in.

  “You must be the new masters,” she said in a tender voice, as if dripped in honey.

  “And you must be Lilith.” Rikar took her hand and pulled her to him. “You’re graced with a beauty that the moon sisters are jealous of.”

  She smiled and covered her small mouth. “Wait until you see the other ladies, young master.” She glanced shyly at Talis, and motioned them down the stairwell.

  They followed the torches lighting the way down into the feasting room. Talis gasped. There, stretched before him, was a scene like none other. A maze of square, gold platforms, each the size of a man, each engraved with the liking of a god or a goddess. The platforms were arranged in some geometric shape, and between them, pools of water were filled with flecks of gold, and in each, a naked woman bathed. Each one Talis spied was more beautiful than the one before.

  The room was filled with strange people. A group of gaudily-dressed singers sang in the corner, a love song, their mouths covered with silk. There were men and women with grave expressions, dressed in long flowing robes, their eyes piercing and bold. Guards wielded curved silver swords, their bodies hewn like chiseled ivory. All eyes were drawn to Talis and Rikar as they entered the feasting chamber. Heads bowed, then eyes raised, studying them. Mouths whispered low.

  “You’ll be expected to feast and enjoy yourself.” Lilith beckoned them to a table littered with roasted meats, plumed feathers, tropical fruits, sweet breads, sweet cakes, and sweets of all kinds.

  “And are there any other expectations from Master Aurellia?” Rikar studied Lilith.

  She hesitated, then glanced at the men and women on the other side of the room. She leaned closer, and whispered, “Be careful, young masters, danger always lurks in the city of Darkov.”

  11. THE UNSTEADY HAND

  Spread over the extravagant supper table was a silk tapestry of moons and stars and the six symbols of death. Talis couldn’t help but stare at the design, for the weavings glowed and the drawing was animated with a life of its own. A frightful illustration. Etched along the tassels flowed a river of blood, the river leading into the Underworld. Farther up, layers of bodies were piled high, their vicious fumes rising as incense to the lesser demons above, who devoured the mortals’ flesh. Then above them were the taskmasters of the Underworld, great demons with spiked whips. They endlessly struck the lesser demons—punishment for the act of consuming the mortal’s flesh.

  Arranged around the center of the tapestry were the gods themselves: at the head stood Zagros, the Lord of the Underworld, then Ractan, the Lord of the Dragons, and Ishta, the Lord of the Genie Sorcerers. At the other side hovered Nestria, the Goddess of the Sky, and Nacrea, the Goddess of the Sun, and opposite, Satvis, the God of Darkness. Between them sat two mythological heroes: Nyx the Destroyer and Lord Heti of Calabastria. Here were the triumphant gods, playing with the lives and flesh of all mortals.

  Talis stifled a groan. Atop the tapestry were glass jars filled with what looked like trapped souls. Their ghastly faces peered out, eyes desperate and longing for freedom. How did they get inside? He felt sick to his stomach. The dark sorcerers studied him with grave looks, as if they glimpsed something distasteful inside. He could tell they were suspicious of him: he was too young, from a strange land untouched by their power, and to their murmuring voices, unsuitable to attend this grand feast.

  Now, all he could think about was leaving this wretched city. Whatever danger lay ahead, it was nothing compared to the insidious poison seeping through the black and gold walls of Darkov.

  “To your charmed fortune.” A sorcerer raised a crystal vial filled with some bubbling substance. The man appeared to be hundreds of years old. Deep, harsh wrinkles lined his eyes and forehead, and yet his hands were perfectly smooth. He wore a black silk cloak fastened around his neck with a gold broach, ornately designed like the sun. He drank the vial and after awhile, he appeared as youthful as a young man.

  Talis was taken aback at the man’s sudden transformation. He steadied his wine cup with his other hand. “Fortune smiles on you...”

  “Every day.” The sorcerer frowned at Talis. “You’d be wise to remember that. Without fortune, shining on you daily”—he leaned in close to Talis—”your life is at risk.”

  Turning, the man whisked away and disappeared behind another group of sorcerers mingling in the corner of the room. Talis tried to discover where he’d gone, but the man had vanished.

  Just then Talis felt a cold hand settle on his right shoulder. He turned, glimpsed the eyes of Aurellia, and resisted the desire to flee.

  “I see you’ve finally joined us here in our illustrious city.”

  “Where are my other friends?”

  “They’ll join you shortly…after a period of observation...”

  Talis was about to lash out in anger, but thought the better of it. Instead, he tried a different approach. “What’s this feast?”

  “Ah, this celebration is for you, your friends, and...” He beckoned Rikar close. “My faithful apprentice. Brave souls who dare adv
enture into the unknown, in pursuit of a noble cause.”

  Rikar stood placidly next to Aurellia, staring at the glass jars atop the tapestry.

  “There’s no greater cause than to explore the depths of the Underworld in search of power…and for this one, in search of a loved one.” Aurellia gave Rikar a pitiful smile, but his eyes laughed mercilessly.

  “Enough of all this chatter. I’ve got a surprise for you.” Aurellia beamed at Talis. “I heard the terrible story of what those Serakians did to you…just horrible. How they mistook such well-bred children as slaves, I’ll never know. But I’ve made amends for this injustice.”

  Aurellia clapped his hands and a brawny servant carried over several parcels wrapped in leather. “I’ve sent my servants to fetch your belongings…all that was stolen is now returned.”

  Talis felt a warm wind rush through him as the servant handed him a package. He opened it quickly, and beamed. His sword! A hot fire rushed into his arms as he held it. “Thank you…this was a gift from my father.”

  “Now rightfully returned.” Aurellia gestured to the food. “You must be famished. No? Ah then perhaps you will fast…clear your mind before your sacred journey. I’ll leave you now. Rikar, keep your friend company.” His black robes swished on the floor as he strode off.

  “The master was good to retrieve our gear...” Rikar opened a package and grinned as he withdrew a dagger.

  Talis frowned. “Where have they taken Mara and Nikulo?”

  “Don’t be concerned, it’s a matter of formality…and it relates to our journey into the Underworld. They’re untouched by the Lord of the Death. We’ve both experienced loss—you a brother, and me a father—so we’re considered touched. It’s for Mara and Nikulo’s safety that they do this. They won’t be harmed.”