As Fire is to Gold (Chronicles of the Ilaroi Book 1)

by Mark McCabe

  “So, am I to be condemned by my own colleagues, by my two fellows who I’ve worked with for the good of Ilythia for over half a millennia, simply because I’ve been tardy in carrying out my duties? Oh Tarak, that is too much.” Golkar was in full flight now and had moved from bemusement to a show of righteous indignation. “I didn’t expect that from you of all people, friend. Kell, I know, would only be too willing to countenance such nonsense. His rivalry with me eats at him like a canker. But I thought better of you.”

  “I didn’t say I believed these allegations, Golkar. I have simply asked for your answer to them. To be truthful, I did find them hard to believe. That’s why I’ve come here, to hear from your own lips your response to such spurious allegations.”

  Inwardly Golkar beamed. The fish had taken the hook. Now all he needed to do was reel him in and finish the job. “Well, now you’ve heard what I have to say. I demand you tell me who is spreading this poison about me. I have a right to know that.”

  “That will serve no purpose Golkar. I’ll not betray my sources. But what of the second matter I raised? What do you know of this human that is alleged to have come here from another world?”

  “Alleged by whom? I know nothing more about all this than what you’ve told me. Though I have to say that this is even more ridiculous than that nonsense about the sligs. You and I both know very well that it isn’t possible to travel between worlds. If I remember correctly, even Tanis himself doubted whether that could be done. If this isn’t simply more mischievous invention, then I daresay its source might be found in the bottom of a tankard of ale. Really, Tarak, I can’t believe that you’ve come all this way to ask me to defend myself against alehouse gossip. What’s really going on here?”

  “I’m sorry I’ve questioned you so, Golkar,” soothed Tarak, obviously intent on extricating himself from the awkward situation he had got himself into. “But these are serious charges and they can’t be just lightly brushed aside. I didn’t say I believed them, but they have been put about and they need to be dealt with. My feeling is that a special session of the Council may be called for. I’d like to see us all sit down to some plain talking about the whole matter, all three of us, that is. We might revisit the slig situation at the same time.”

  “You have taken this seriously, haven’t you?” said Golkar. “Well, I too would like to get to the bottom of this. If someone is stirring dissension among us, we must deal with that, firmly. Come. Let me offer you and your companions a cool drink, as I would have done earlier if you hadn’t jumped down my throat as soon as you arrived.” As he said this Golkar allowed himself a smile and beckoned to Tarak to dismount and join him inside, approaching him and continuing to talk as he did so. “Then you can tell me who or what is behind all this mischief. It would seem someone thinks there is something to gain by setting the Guardians against each other.”

  Tarak began to dismount from his horse, not seeming to notice at first that his two companions made no move to join him. As his foot reached the ground, he happened to glance up at Nate. The vacant stare on his face both surprised him and alerted him to the fact that something was wrong. Sensing that Golkar had reached his side, Tarak spun around towards him. He had barely begun to turn when he felt a searing pain spear agonisingly into his torso. Looking down, he was dumbfounded to see a curved blade in the wizard’s hand. Although it was dripping blood, Tarak found it hard to grasp what was happening. It had all been so quick and unexpected and the sensation of pain was so far out of his experience that his mind was struggling to decipher the strange sensations that were enveloping him. Then, as he looked up at Golkar’s face in disbelief, he sensed a rapid movement on the periphery of his vision. The searing pain stabbed into his vitals again.

  This time Golkar held the knife deep within his fellow Guardian, twisting it viciously as he did so. His other hand held the wounded wizard’s shoulder in a vice-like grip, holding him firmly in place with his will as much as with his physical strength as Tarak’s body threatened to sway towards him.

  “You made one simple mistake, you fool,” he snarled, his face only inches from the contorted features of his colleague. “You underestimated me.” With that, Golkar wrenched the blade from the herb-master. With a soft groan, Tarak slumped to the ground at his feet.

  Bending down, Golkar turned the head of his fallen enemy and quite calmly and deliberately drew his blade across the exposed throat, quickly jumping back as a spurt of blood gushed out from the terrible wound.

  Golkar stood over the fallen wizard, gloating at the pitiful shape at his feet. As he watched, to his surprise it began to wither before his very eyes, slowly at first and then more quickly, contracting and curling up as it did so like an autumn leaf, only in this case in a matter of moments, not weeks.

  And then it was done. Nothing remained of the former Guardian, or of the all-powerful crystal shard each of them always carried with them, than a small pile of detritus which quickly dispersed as a sudden breeze took it up and carried it away across the clearing. They were both gone. Just as the wizard and his shard had been linked in life, so they had shared the same fate. All that was left was a blackened patch of burnt grass at Golkar’s feet.

  Although his heaving chest and flushed face betrayed his emotional state, there was no one there to witness his triumph. Tarak’s two companions still sat astride their own horses, staring vacantly into the distance, held by the spell of compulsion that Golkar had cast upon them as he had moved in to accomplish his task. For the moment they were blissfully unaware of the event that had just been played out only paces away from them.

  Turning back again, he looked down once more at the blackened turf, the only remnant now of a once powerful foe, feeling for just one moment a tinge of sadness. He had no regrets at what he had done. On the contrary, he felt quite exhilarated by it. He couldn’t help but wonder, however, at the ease with which he had despatched one of the Guardians of Ilythia.

  END OF BOOK ONE

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  Book Two: When All the Leaves Have Fallen is available now.

  Excerpt

  from the conclusion to this story in:

  CHRONICLES OF THE ILAROI: BOOK TWO

  WHEN ALL THE LEAVES HAVE FALLEN

  The Queen of Algaria wept silently as she stared out across the plain that spread from the walls of the city to the distant hills beyond. Though the battle was over, the signs of the carnage that had taken place only a few short hours earlier were still there for all to see. Other than an occasional sob or gasp from those around her, for several minutes, all were silent. The enormity of the situation could not help but weigh heavily on every observer.

  “So many lives,” she finally exclaimed in a hoarse whisper, struggling to keep her emotions in check as she spoke. “Such senseless slaughter, and for what purpose? This morning as I watched the ranks of our soldiers as they assembled I was so proud of their courage. I couldn’t help but feel their vitality their vigour, their hope. Now . . . now it’s like a forest floor in autumn covered in dead and decaying leaves. So many dead, from both sides. So many who will never return home again.”

  After a few moments of silence, she finally gave vent to the anger that was quickly displacing her grief.

  “This is Golkar’s doing,” she exclaimed more loudly, turning her face away from her companions as she spoke to hide the tears welling up in her eyes. “What will he do when all of the leaves have fallen? What further horrors will he inflict on Ilythia then?”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Mark McCabe was born in Brisbane, Australia, later moved to Sydney and then to Canberra, the Australian capital city, where he completed a career in the Australian Government and Australian Capital Territory’s public service agencies.

  Upon retiring, Mark and his family moved to New Zealand and took up residence near Dunedin.

  Mark holds a Bachelor of Arts majoring in Clas
sics, Latin and English from the Australian National University.

  Mark’s favoured genres are fantasy (predominantly epic and high fantasy) and science fiction, although he does hope to write a series of crime novels at some stage in the future. He cites David Gemmell, Jack Vance and Ursula Le Guin as key inspirations and influences.

  In his spare time, Mark is an amateur photographer and a keen student of the classics, with a particular focus on Rome as well as ancient myths and legends such as the Trojan Cycle.

  Author website: https://markmccabeauthor.com