Fate of the Fallen

by Kel Kade

  “It sounds like a heavy mantle to bear for a man alone.” With a subdued chuckle, the marquess said, “I should have anticipated it. From what I can tell, nothing less than the fate of the world could drag a forester out of his forest.”

  Mathias hummed a knowing tune, but Aaslo said nothing. They sat in silence for a while, which was fine with Aaslo. He and his father had often gone days simply existing in each other’s presence without uttering a word. Even Mathias had learned to occasionally hold his tongue when Aaslo was thinking.

  Finally, the marquess said, “I look forward to the day you share with me your story. How is it that a forester is so skilled with the sword, and how did he acquire such an exquisite weapon? What drew him from his beloved forest, and what task is so important that he forgoes his calling?” He stood, brushing the straw from his pants. “Until then, I shall revel in the mystery.” He pulled a small purse from the pocket of his overcoat and tossed it to Aaslo. “My thanks for your candid advice. Consider this an investment in the successful completion of your task. I have faith that we shall meet again, Sir Forester.”

  Still averse to taking the marquess’s money for no reason, Aaslo offered the man a small pouch from his pack. The marquess looked at him uncertainly as he reached for it. “For your men,” said Aaslo. “Have them mix it with a bit of water before application.”

  “What is it?” said the marquess.

  “It’ll help with the leeches.”

  The marquess’s face blanched, and he gazed into the darkness toward the pond. He nodded toward Aaslo, then turned to leave. He paused. Turning back, he said, “You might have led with the fact that you are a forester, seeing as how foresters are exempt from poaching laws.”

  Aaslo smirked. “It was none of your business.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Magdelay peered down at the evergate from her hiding place in the rocks on the opposite slope. Besides a few larger boulders, there was little cover that high in the Cambor Mountains of northeastern Uyan. Spikemoss and lichen were most abundant, with a few scraggly junipers and sagebrush dotting the rugged hills. Clumps of grass and thorny brambles peeked from between boulders and talus in the lower crevasses and valleys.

  It was early afternoon when she arrived, and the shadows were at a minimum, so she wrapped a spell of environmental mimicry around herself. At a distance, she was fairly safe from observation, but the closer she crept, the less effective the spell would become.

  The evergate was surrounded by the same creatures that had attacked on the road outside Goldenwood. In the daylight, they were no less horrifying. Their wrinkly skin had the grey-blue hue of an aged corpse over the joints and bony parts but appeared pinkish around the muscles and softer flesh. It sagged as if it had been stretched too large for the creatures’ thin frames. They were the size and shape of men but lacked hair and lashes, and their black-rimmed irises were nearly white. Behind bluish-black lips were tiny, pointed teeth, and every once in a while, sinuous black tongues slipped from between them to lick the air. Although they were dressed like mismatched soldiers or mercenaries and worked with purpose, she never heard them speak in a human tongue. Snarls, grunts, and hisses seemed to be their primary method of communication.

  About fifty of the creatures were camped at the base of the evergate. Magdelay had been watching them for over an hour but had yet to see another magus. She needed this gate. The one nearest Goldenwood, which she used to attend the council meetings every month, had been destroyed beyond her ability to repair when she had arrived. She had been forced to travel weeks to the next evergate, only to find it under siege. Luckily, after the first attack her horse had not run too far, and her summoning spell had been successful in encouraging it to return with her supplies. She felt guilty about the state in which she had left Aaslo, but she could not have retrieved the other horse, which was unfamiliar with her magic. She wondered if the forester had changed his mind and gone back to his forest, then considered that he was far too stubborn for that.

  A commotion captured her attention. The gate, constructed in the modified mouth of a cave, suddenly activated. A young-looking magus stepped through the prismatic crush of colors that glowed within the keyhole-shaped framework. The creatures skittered back, and the shaggy-haired magus, who looked to be no more than twenty, dropped a thick rope in their midst. After he retreated back through the portal, a number of creatures swarmed forward to snag the rope, then began pulling. As the rope slowly grew longer, more creatures came forward to assist. Finally, a train of two large wagons attached to the rope creaked through the gate. The young magus arrived again, this time in the company of two older magi.

  The creatures tore the covers from the wagons, and Magdelay’s stomach churned at the sight. Each was filled with human corpses. As she watched, the creatures dragged the cadavers from the wagons and laid them on the rough ground in three rows of five. The young magus pulled the lid from a barrel in the front wagon and began scooping a red powder into a sack. Meanwhile, one of the older magi carried an urn around the site, splashing the cadavers with a clear liquid that was so pungent, Magdelay could smell it from her perch, at least twenty yards away. The third magus muttered words he read from a thick tome, and the wind suddenly died on the crisp edge of a spell. The young magus tipped the sack over and carefully poured the powder in a thin line around the bodies. He then refilled the bag and rounded them in the opposite direction, drawing foreign symbols with the powder.

  Magdelay had never seen the spell they were creating, but since it involved corpses, thought it safe to assume it was of a dark nature. She felt like she should disrupt it, but her chances of surviving against three unknown magi and a host of fiends were probably low. Aside from that, interrupting a spell in progress could have disastrous consequences for everyone. She couldn’t risk damaging the evergate before she could use it. She needed to get to the council immediately, before Aaslo reported to the king.

  When the young magus finished pouring the designs of the script, he joined the other two. Together, they chanted something unintelligible from the tome; then the younger one turned to face the magus who still held the urn. To her shock, the urn-bearer withdrew his belt knife and slit the younger magus’s throat. The tome-bearer snapped the book shut and supported the young magus as he slumped, while the urn-bearer collected the young man’s spurting blood in the vessel. After the flow slowed, the urn-bearer walked among the corpses, pouring blood into each of their mouths. Once he was finished, the tome-bearer raised his arms and cast a spell that released the wind. It quickly intensified into a tempest, furiously whipping over the bodies in a maelstrom of rocky debris and red powder. Static energy began to snap within the currents, eliciting crackling bolts within the dark air mass.

  Magdelay’s blood froze as the corpses’ eyes popped open to reveal milky irises that stared wide-eyed into the storm. The hair was stripped from their flesh, which darkened as it began to sag. Then they began to move. Their joints bent awkwardly while their arms and legs awoke in jittery movements. As they bent and crawled, their motions became smoother. One by one, they stood upon wobbly feet while the storm raged around them. They turned her way as one and looked as if they were staring straight at her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. The storm abruptly died, and where cadavers had lain sprawled on the ground stood fifteen more of the strange creatures.

  The tome-bearer moved to stand in front of the group. He spoke to them in a language unknown to Magdelay. When he was finished, the monsters began acting the same as the others who were present when she arrived. The two remaining magi turned and strode back through the evergate, leaving the young magus behind. As soon as they disappeared, the creatures swarmed the magus’s body, ripping it to pieces and fighting each other as they devoured every bit.

  Magdelay knew she needed to get to the gate before the magi returned, and the distraction of the magus’s body wouldn’t last long. She scrabbled back up the slope, ducking behind boulders to hide her retreat. On
ce over the hill, she slid down the talus on the other side to where she had left her horse and gear. Balene was anxious, probably scenting the blood, but Magdelay whispered a soothing incantation in the mare’s ear. She anticipated needing a number of spells if she was to make it through the fray, and she hoped to destroy the creatures in the process. While she was capable of more than most sorceresses, it was draining.

  She emptied a small pouch of odds and ends into her larger pack, then led her horse into a gully at the bottom of the hill. She needed rocks that were smooth and symmetrical, but none would be found in the angular rubble on the hill. Upon first pass, she had noted an outcrop of poorly lithified conglomerate in the gully, a paleo-riverbed of smoothed river stones and friable clay.

  She pried what she needed from the layer, then washed the stones with a splash from her waterskin. With an oil-charcoal mixture, she marked runes onto the stones, a technique she had learned from a runesmith who had once been a good friend. She then used the black paste to draw runes on her skin, clothing, and horse, imbuing them with spells native to witchcraft rather than sorcery. Traditionalists derided the use of magics nonnative to their disciplines, but she had not become high sorceress by being finicky.

  Once finished, she mounted Balene and led her to the mouth of the crevasse. She could hear the fiends’ savage cries echoing through the chasm. Balene stomped the gravel as her ears turned back and her nostrils flared. Magdelay patted the mare’s neck but did not cast another calming spell. Balene would need all her energy if they were to survive. Magdelay exhaled a slow, steadying breath, then kicked the horse into motion with a shout. Balene thundered up the path as Magdelay activated her first spells. Purple tendrils of electricity crackled along her hands and forearms. As she held the spell, the tendrils grew, snapping up her torso to be released in sizzling zaps from the tips of her loose hair.

  The creatures did not see her at first. In the absence of the magi, they had descended into a state of chaos. Worried that the magi might return to put them in order, Magdelay slapped the rune beside the horse’s mane, spurring her forward with unnatural speed. The nearest creatures shrieked, and the horde turned.

  Gripping the horse tightly with her legs, Magdelay raised her arms in both directions and released the purple lightning with a thunderous clap. Several of the creatures in the front line were knocked back, a few falling to the ground in convulsions as the lightning wrapped around them. She whispered a spell begotten of wizardry, which loosened the gravel on either side of her direct path to the gate. She then swiped another rune painted on the other side of Balene’s neck. With every strike of the mare’s hooves, the ground of the chasm shook. The vibration, caused by the consistent patter of footfalls, increased quickly, and the loose sediment began to behave as a liquid. Creatures howled as they sank into the liquefied ground. As they struggled, the shifting sediment built up friction. Magdelay stroked a rune painted on her own neck as she mumbled an incantation and raised her arm, drawing the static energy from the ground. She formed a spell in her mind but had no time to cast it before several of the creatures jumped at her.

  Magdelay smacked the first creature away with unnatural strength, but the fiend managed to score her arm with its claws. She deflected an attack on her other side with an energy shield, then ripped a piece of rune-bearing fabric from her sleeve and dropped it in the midst of the gathering attackers. As soon as the fabric struck the ground, it exploded into dozens of linen tendrils that whipped around the legs of the nearest creatures. As they paused to tear themselves free, Magdelay rode past, tossing several of the enchanted stones into their midst. Some of the stones exploded, while others emitted dense fog or spewed an acrid liquid that melted flesh.

  Creatures began crawling over their dead and those stuck in the talus quagmires. As Magdelay kicked and slashed at one with a whip of purple lightning, another leapt on her from the other side, nearly knocking her from the saddle. Magdelay screamed as the creature bit into her shoulder and dug its claws into her arm and thigh. She slapped a rune on her arm beside the monster’s talons, but the script had been damaged and the spell wouldn’t activate. She formed a ball of green mage fire in her palm and smashed it into the creature’s face. It fell away from her, clawing at the enchanted fire that spread to cover its head, then dripped onto the creatures around it.

  Magdelay mustered the energy she had been saving as she neared the evergate. When several creatures converged on her, she slapped the remaining runes on her arms and clothes. The combination of spells caused a burst of energy that threw the creatures back several paces. She then tossed the last of the enchanted stones behind her, clearing the creatures on Balene’s heels with a variety of devastating effects.

  Inside the gate, Magdelay was surrounded by a slush of colors that looked like broken mirrors. She quickly threw her cloak over the mare’s head to keep her from panicking, then removed her packs and tack. When she was finished, she removed her cloak and looked into the mare’s dark brown gaze. She whispered an apology as she threaded a mystical tether between them. She had little hope it would work. She then turned to the evergate, drawing tendrils of energy from the mass she had been saving and linking them to each of the runes that defined the portal to form a massive web of energy. The last tendril was linked to her. She activated the device and was transported across the kingdom. In the process, the link to the evergate was severed, releasing the accumulated raw energy and destroying the gate, which had stood for hundreds of years.

  Magdelay shook her head as the colors of the receiving evergate fizzled. Her worries were confirmed. Balene had not made it through. The horse was lost to the realms, deposited somewhere on an unknown path, in a random world or in the vastness between them. Magdelay hoped the horse had found herself in a place where she could survive, but knew it unlikely.

  She stepped out of the small, barren receiving chamber into the vast corridor. The soaring stone arches and the shadows they cast were a stark contrast to the rays of golden light that shone through the long windows between them. She had lived in the Citadel of Magi since she was a small child, and it had always felt peaceful, comforting to her. This was her home, but it was not the one she had shared with Mathias. Her heart ached with his memory. Mathias had been hers. In him, she had found a light that had made every trial worth it, and he was dead.

  The soft shuffle of feet over the tiles alerted her to another’s presence. She glanced down the adjacent corridor to spy one of the fledglings headed in her direction.

  “You,” she shouted.

  The young magus, only a few years into his studies by his dress, lifted his head and blinked at her in surprise. He scurried forward, his face pale and his hands shaking. “Y-yes, High Sorceress. How may I assist you? You are injured. Shall I go for a healer?”

  “No, there is no time for that. What are your duties at the moment?”

  “I’m retrieving a sylph vessel for Wizard Motemer.”

  “This takes precedence.” She pointed to the packs in the receiving chamber. “Gather those and follow me to the council hall.”

  “Yes, High Sorceress. The council is already gathered. I’m sure they’ll be pleased that you could attend.”

  Magdelay rounded on him. “What are you talking about? Why are they meeting?”

  Sweat beaded across the fledgling’s brow. “I, um, don’t know. I guess it has something to do with the visitors.”

  “What visitors?” she snapped.

  “The foreigners from the new land.”

  “What do they look like?” she said.

  “Um, I guess they’re a bit strange. They all have long hair and black, pointed nails.”

  “They are here now?”

  “Yes, High Sorceress. They’re meeting with the council as we speak.”

  Magdelay was incensed. If these were the same visitors she had encountered on the road, then Mathias’s killers had invaded her home. She stormed down the corridor, each bite, scratch, and bruise screaming with her ever
y step. She was also drained, having used the last of her energy stores to destroy the evergate. She abruptly stopped and turned to the fledgling.

  “Do you have any marmuck root?”

  The young man shook his head vigorously. “No, of course not, High Sorceress. I would never—”

  “Stop your prattling and give it to me.”

  The fledgling shifted, glancing at her anxiously. Finally, he dipped his hand inside his tunic and pulled out a pouch hanging from a cord around his neck. Magdelay snatched it from him and continued her trek toward the council chamber.

  The fledgling hurried to keep pace. “Please, High Sorceress. I swear I don’t normally use it. I was worried about the examinations, and Wizard Motemer has been working me tirelessly. I just needed a little boost to keep up, you know. Please don’t expel me. I won’t do it again.”

  Magdelay ignored the young man’s rambling as she shoved a knob of marmuck root into her mouth, chewing with gusto so as to rid her mouth of the foul taste as quickly as possible. She felt a quickening, the zap of energy spreading through her limbs and filling the empty chambers that carried her power. She would regret it in the morning, but she had more immediate concerns.

  A gaggle of youths were gathered at the chamber door when Magdelay approached. Every one of them was attempting to peer through the cracks or listen through the wood with shoddy spells. No one noticed until the fledgling carrying her bags coughed rather obviously. The others jumped and spun to face her, then began bowing and ducking when they realized who had caught them.

  Magdelay scowled at the youngsters. “You all need to go to your rooms immediately. Lock and ward the doors. We have little time. If you hope to take breath in the morning, you will heed my words.” She looked to the fledgling who had accompanied her. “Go with them.” The young man dropped Magdelay’s packs, and the fledglings all muttered apologies as they scurried away.