Dawn of Chaos, page 21
Elena was looking intently to the east. “Danor …” she said tentatively.
Darren nodded to the general. “And the knights — yours and mine — can take the center. We’ll surround their force and crush it!”
Danor frowned. “This is a tactical blunder on their part. And coming from this demon lord, it surprises me. A hundred battle demons are a formidable force, but it’s not enough to break our charge. He’s sending them right into the jaws of an easily set trap.”
“Danor,” Elena said again. Her voice was louder this time, and more insistent.
He turned swiftly to face her. “What is it, my love?”
They all looked as she pointed. In the distance, they saw two masses of roiling clouds moving in across the firth. Like enormous doors of dark grey, they seemed to be sliding slowly closed, shutting out the rest of the world. Red lightning flashed within them, lighting the sky with a glow of hellish light.
“It may not be such a miscalculation,” she said slowly. “Those clouds have been surrounding the city while we fought.”
“Why?” Banderman asked.
“To conceal a second attack force.”
Darren nodded. “I think the Queen is right,” he said tightly.
“Why?” Banderman asked again. “What makes you so sure?”
Darren’s lips drew into a thin, grim line. “Have you ever fought a dragon, General?” he asked.
Banderman shook his head. His face had gone suddenly pale.
Darren pointed. “That glow in the clouds … it’s dragon fire, if I’ve ever seen it. And I have.”
“By the Light,” the general whispered.
“This isn’t just an invasion of demons,” Elena said. “Zomoran’s gathered the remnants of the Dark to lead against us as well. He’s trying to undo the Taming.”
The Guards of Company Twenty-Three
Randia watched as Lieutenant Kay opened the door to the guard tower and peered out. She heard the clash of battle in the distance, but there didn’t seem to be any fighting nearby. The ringing of the Cathedral bells carried through the city, along with the sounding of the palace horns.
Kay turned to look over her shoulder. “I think the warrior priests have joined the battle,” she said. “That’ll draw even more of the creatures away from here. We should be clear, at least for now.”
Randia nodded. A tear ran down her face as she listened to the sounds from the city.
“That’ll be my father at their head,” she said. “No one else would have the courage to lead a charge against an army of demons.”
“You think your family survived the attack on the palace, then?” Stefan asked tentatively. His tone was hopeful.
She nodded again. “Mother, for certain. She has Grandmother’s command of the elements. Those thunderclaps are hers, calling a storm down on the enemy.”
“And the horns from the palace sound the King’s Call,” Kay agreed. “With help from the Cathedral, he might drive through the blockade.”
Stefan pointed.
“He might, if he’s swift. See? Most of the demons are still mustering around the amphitheater. They’re only moving out now, to take and control positions within the city.”
“That gives us a window of opportunity,” Kay agreed. “But we’ll have to move quickly. What is our mission, Your Highness?”
“We need to reach the Silver Star Adventurer’s Academy,” Randia replied. “And the protection of the Archmage.”
“That may not be safe,” one of the soldiers said cautiously. “There’s a large force of demons moving through the city below us. We could see them from the tower. They look like they’re headed for the Star as well.”
Randia and Stefan exchanged glances.
“Do they think they can take the academy?” he asked. He sounded skeptical.
Randia shook her head. “If they have the power to do that, then we’re all doomed.”
“It doesn’t matter much either way,” Stefan said. “If they’re cutting us off from reaching him.”
“I don’t think so,” Kay said. “The demons are climbing up from the Lower City. We can cut along the terrace behind us, and then down the stairs at the eastern end of the bluff. That’ll let us reach the Star from above.”
“Shouldn’t we strike west, though?” Will asked. “If the King and Queen and the priests are all driving toward us, shouldn’t we try to bring the princess to them?”
“It’s too risky to take her into a battle zone,” Stefan said flatly. “Her plan’s the right one: get her to the protection of the Archmage.”
Kay’s eyes hardened as she looked at the young soldier. “And that’s leaving aside the fact that those aren’t our orders,” she told him. “The princess is in charge here. You don’t speculate on what’s best for her. She decides, and you carry out her commands.” She raised her eyebrows. “Clear?”
Will’s face turned white. He saluted hastily. “Yes, Lieutenant,” he said.
“All right then,” Kay said. Her voice rose as she called out orders. “Kenn and Jean scout ahead, right and left flanks. Go.”
Two soldiers ran out the door and disappeared onto the road outside.
“The rest of you: escort formation,” she continued. “The prince and princess in the center. Nothing gets near them that hasn’t gone through you first.” She pointed to two men with bows. “Archers with me at their side. We go to work if the ring is broken. We give the scouts a ten count, and then hoof it.”
The seconds ran by quickly as she counted them down. Then she glanced at Randia. The princess nodded.
“Okay — Guards of Company Twenty-Three! Move out!”
One after another, the soldiers ran through the door into the street. Randia and Stefan went next, followed by Kay and her archers. The group fell quickly into formation and ran along the road to the right.
As they expected, the sky and surrounding roads were clear. Randia couldn’t see the force that was moving on the Star, but knew it was at least two terrace levels below them. For the moment, it was no threat.
The scouts led them expertly through the Upper City to the east, picking a route to keep them out of the open as much as possible. They cut through a row of hedges, across the yard of an estate, and under the boughs of a small copse of woods. They dashed through a small park, fording a stream that ran through it. Randia glanced down and saw that it fed just below them into an artery of the city’s vast system of aqueducts.
They finally stopped in a small glade surrounded by a wall of trellises. Flowering vines ran along and through them, providing a cover of foliage that gave the little garden a feeling of privacy. Some trellises arched over the north end of the clearing, forming a kind of inflorescent pavilion.
An opening in the trellis wall gave a view of the city below. A spur extending from the cliff wall to their right bordered the path next to the glade. It turned to block the way ahead, breached only by a tunnel that led through it to the east.
“Three minute rest,” Kay said firmly. “Under the pavilion. Get your wind, everyone. There’s little cover from here on until we reach the stairs down to the Star.”
Stefan sank onto the grass of the glade, panting. Randia sat beside him and kissed his shoulder.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Exhausted,” he said. His voice sounded cheerful despite his heavy breathing.
“What about you, Your Highness?” Kay asked.
Randia waved a hand at her. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine for another sprint when you’re ready.”
Stefan grinned at the lieutenant. “She doesn’t wind easily,” he said, with a conspiratorial wink.
Two scouts ran toward them from the opening in the path ahead. Kay turned as they came to attention before her. “Report, Jean,” she said.
One soldier saluted. “There’s something odd going on in the sky up ahead,” she said tentatively.
Kay stiffened. “Go on.”
“It’s a bank of clouds. Out past the end of the city, surrounding it. It rolled in from the north and south in the last few minutes. It doesn’t look natural.”
Randia got up and walked to the opening at the north end of the trellis wall. She looked out, craning her head to the side.
“Your Highness, please!” Kay said, aghast.
Stefan gasped. “Pull your head back before someone sees you!”
Randia ignored them. She studied the sky and then turned back to the others.
“It’s another spell storm,” she said. “The pattern is the same as the fog over the amphitheater before. I can even feel some of the magic, this time. It’s a large and powerful conjuring.”
“Why?” Kay asked. “Can you tell what it’s for?”
Randia took a deep breath. When she spoke, her voice was grim.
“The last time the enemy did this, it was to conceal an attack force. If I’m right, our path to the Silver Star is about to get even more difficult than it was.”
Warlord of the Academy
Lieutenant Kieran Caldor was thrown to his knees on the marble floor. A cry welled up in his throat, a mixture of pain and despair. He managed to keep it to a short, gasping sob. He kept his head bowed.
His wrists and ankles were bound behind him. His arm was bleeding, and the pain in his shoulder was intense. Dislocated, he thought numbly. Nothing that couldn’t be healed when he had a chance to get medical attention. If he had a chance to get medical attention.
He tried to recall what had happened. The academy staff had hastily barricaded the doors to the Dean’s Library after they had arrived. He’d sent the students to shelter with the others in the auditorium at the center of the building, beneath the great dome. Then he and his men had joined the defense, standing with the guards and the professors of magic.
They’d had little time to prepare. Orion and Diana had quickly been proven right when the lookouts on the rotunda spotted a large force of Hellmen approaching. In minutes, they had been surrounded, with no hope of escape.
The attack had been brutal. Hellman casters had bombarded the building with fire, shattering its walls and makeshift fortifications. And Lord Zomoran was at their head. The magus took down many of the defenders himself, sundering their magical barriers with almost contemptuous ease.
Kieran frowned. How had his arm been injured? It must have happened when the doors exploded, and a tornado had swept through the room. He remembered being picked up by the whirlwind, but nothing after that.
He slowly risked lifting his head a little. He was kneeling on the marble floor of a circular auditorium. Others were lined in rows beside and around him. Some were guards, like himself, while others wore the robes of academy professors. Many were hurt, their faces bruised and their clothes splattered with blood. All of them were bound as he was.
He looked cautiously around, and saw that more prisoners were bound behind him. They took up half the hall, all kneeling in rows like himself, head down. The rows were far enough apart for Hellman guards to stroll among the captives. They watched them, whips in hand.
He searched for his charges from the palace. It didn’t take long to spot them, kneeling together several rows behind. Their fine clothes stood out dangerously from the other students. He found himself caught between feelings of relief and dread at the sight: relief that they had survived the carnage, and dread for what was to come.
One thing was certain: he had failed in his duty to keep them safe.
He saw bodies strewn around the circumference of the room. None were moving, and he saw no sign of his men. Many of the dead lay face up with their throats cut. Wasn’t that what Hellmen did after a battle? Separate out those who had value as captives, and summarily execute the rest? And he was still alive. Did that mean —
A lash struck his shoulder. He flinched, biting back a cry. A Hellwoman soldier with a whip stood to his side, her expression lit with what he could only interpret as delight. Her eyes met his with a look of predatory hunger.
“Head down,” she ordered, smiling. She spoke in Carlissan, but her accent seemed strangely unsuited to the words. It was thick and alien. He wondered how much of his language she actually spoke, or if she were simply using a memorized phrase.
He dropped his gaze immediately to the floor. He held himself rigid, not daring to move. She walked by behind him, slowly, laughing. Her leather-clad legs brushed his back, and she tousled the hair of his bowed head playfully as she passed. He shuddered at her touch.
He remained motionless, keeping his head down. His arm ached, and stabs of pain lanced through his shoulder. His knees hurt as they pressed against the hard marble floor. He lost track of time as he waited, kneeling.
Finally he heard a cold voice call out, clearly and in excellent Carlissan. It bore barely a trace of the accent he’d heard from the guard earlier.
“Captives of the Hellman Collective,” it said loudly. “You will remain kneeling and obedient. Any defiance will be met with swift and brutal reprisal. You will now raise your heads to be addressed by your liege, Zomoran, Warlord of Carlissa.”
Kieran looked up. The speaker was a Hellman officer in black armor. He stood at the head of an entourage of red and black clad soldiers, and his helmet was off. The vermilion complexion of his face seemed almost to glow with a volcanic red light.
The officer stood aside and dropped to one knee. The surrounding soldiers followed suit, parting to open a path between them. Through that path walked the magus himself. He reached the officer’s side, and then rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Rise, Colonel Y’Thra,” he ordered. His voice resonated not only with power and authority, but a hint of impatience. “You and your soldiers have done well here today.”
Y’Thra stood to attention at Zomoran’s side. The magus raised his staff and gestured with it at the kneeling prisoners.
“Today dawns a new day in the history of Carlissa,” he declared. “And an end to the long oppression of those you call the ‘People of the Dark.’
“Since the Taming, they were driven underground, or forced to live in the harsh territories far to the north and west. They were denied the equal access they deserve to the rich lands of Kalara by you, the so-called ‘Children of the Light.’ All of that will now change.”
The assembled Hellmen burst into applause. Zomoran waited patiently for their cheering to subside.
“It is fitting that this new age should begin here, in Carlissa, in the halls of the Grand Academy. For it is here that a new order of learning will be created to replace the old. The decadent Church of the Divine is at the heart of that old order, but its days — and its lies — are numbered.”
He began to pace. His manner dropped abruptly into what seemed more suitable to a lecture.
“They gave a name to those lies. ‘The Covenant,’ they called them, and cast them in terms of a battle between ‘Light’ and ‘Dark.’ As if all those who followed the Way of the Will were creatures of the night — or that all creatures of the night are evil, to be feared and killed. You can see the foolishness of that even now, as our forces take your city from you under the light of the midday sun.
“Now you will finally learn the truth: that your ‘Covenant’ is a tissue of falsehoods. It is a doctrine forced upon you, thousands of years ago, by a pantheon of emasculated gods. Their aim was to use it to keep you weak. To frighten and control you. To rob you of your heart, your strength, your courage, your dignity, your self-assertion. Those same gods have long since retreated before our power to the far reaches of the cosmos. Their pathetic magic can no longer save you.”
Quiet cries and sobs rose from the kneeling prisoners. Zomoran paused to look sternly at them, glowering in disapproval. Y’Thra gestured with one hand, and the whips of the Hellman guards went to work among the crowd. When the crying had finally subsided, the magus continued.
“That is why I have come. To bring knowledge to you of the Way of the Will, which, in your ignorance, you call the ‘Dark.’ Under my tutelage, you will learn the truth that your masters in the Church have kept from you all these centuries. You will learn that the true path to the Divine — and to spiritual glory — lies not through weakness and humility, but through strength and audacity. Through the will of the strong, and the honest submission to them of the weak. To prepare them for the afterlife, where those with the strength of will shall impose it on the very Divine itself.”
He cast his gaze around, and his face adopted a kinder expression.
“Many of you cannot be blamed for your weakness and broken spirits. What else could be expected of you, raised under millennia of indoctrination? Even your Covenant, amid its lies, admits the truth: that by its own emasculating doctrines, you are but Children. Under my teaching, you will finally grow up — and learn to become men.”
He looked down at the regents, and at the professors in the front ranks, and his face hardened. His staff swept toward them in a menacing gesture.
“But for those of you who should have known better, there can be no redemption. You chose the life of seekers and teachers of knowledge and truth. But you have betrayed that calling.
“When my fellow academics came among you, we sought nothing more than to call your attention to the existence of other ways. And for that, you condemned us to the fire. You cast us out, giving us over to your inquisition. To be murdered for daring to speak the truth. But unlike you, we are not weak, and we are no longer children. We refused to surrender to your treachery. And today is your day of reckoning for that betrayal.
“Some of you may yet be redeemed, if you can unlearn the weakness and evil of your ‘Covenant.’ But that is a right you will have to earn. The rest of you will serve the Will, as is your destiny. And your children will learn the lessons that you could not. Their generation will remake your nation, and lead it into the embrace of history.”
“Emil, please!” a voice cried.
It was one of the regents. He was shaking his head violently, and tears were running down his cheeks.
