Children of Prophecy (18 page)

Stret followed those attacks back to their source, and found a trio of Battlemagi standing in a group, near the gate. They were blocking any line of escape, but were clearly focused on Kor, and to a lesser extent, Bor’yets.

He bared his teeth, and concentrated. There was a single tripled scream, as all the heat energy in the area around the Magi suddenly vanished. The temperature in the rest of the courtyard rose significantly.

The air around the Magi turned to solid ice, pressing in on their shields. Their shields compacted under the pressure, but Stret felt his energy wavering. Then another spell interwove with his, as Jia added his strength to the attack.

Moments later, the shields collapsed. Ice hit the three Magi and encased them. Seconds later, the ice faded as the warmth returned. Too late for the Magi, who shattered as the ice came apart.

Stret walked slowly over to Kor’tal. Kor stood up to meet him, inclining his head in respect. He looked down at the boy by Kor’s side. “Is this him?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kor replied. “Kip, meet Stret’sar.” The boy tried to hide away from both of them.

Stret knelt, facing the boy. “Kip, your mother sent us to get you,” he told the child.

“I don’t have a mother,” the boy said quietly, his face streaked with tears. “She died.”

Stret shook his head. “That’s what
they
told you,” he said firmly. “They kidnapped you from us when you were very young. We came as soon as we knew where you were, but they wouldn’t let us take you back to your mother. But she wants you back. We couldn’t let them keep you apart; we had to come for you. Don’t you want to see her again?”

He almost felt guilty as the little boy raised his tear-streaked face and nodded.

“Good,” Stret said gently. “Come with us.” He nodded to Bor’yets, who took the boy and led him to the carriage, then glanced around the battered courtyard. He turned to Jia.

“Someday, the Hawk Car’raen and I will meet again,” he told the other Mage softly. “When that happens, he
won’t
get a chance to run away.”

Once they’d cleared the city, Stret told Bor’yets to stop the carriage. Gesturing his retainer out, he turned to the others. “Wait here,” he ordered shortly.

He led the man off to the side of the road. “We split up here, my friend,” he told his old retainer.

“What do you mean?” Bor’yets asked with a sudden flash of fear in his eyes.

Stret felt almost guilty for a moment. “Not that; don’t worry.” He shrugged. “Where we’re going, I don’t think you want to follow. Plus, our men deserve someone to look after them.”

Bor nodded slowly. “I see,” he said quietly, then paused for a moment. “You know, I’m almost sorry to see you go,” he admitted.

“Spare my ego,” Stret told him. He removed a packet of papers from his robe and handed them to his retainer. “Take these to Kih’lik. They’ve already been signed by me.”

“What are they?” Bor asked.

“The deeds to the estate and my accounts. I’m making you my executor in my absence,” Stret told him.

“I see,” the former bandit replied. Included in those two words was Bor’s acknowledgment of the fact that Stret was most likely never coming back. He’d just given the man the holding and wealth of a minor noble. “Thank you.”

“I did say you would be rewarded if you served me,” the Chaos Mage reminded his retainer. “I keep my word. Now go. I’m running out of time.”

The former – and now never again – bandit stepped back and saluted the man who’d ended his career as a bandit, become his lord and now set him free. “Good luck, my lord.”

“And to you, Bor’yets,” Stret replied. “And to you.”

That night, they made a camp off the side of the road. It didn’t take long for the kidnapped boy to fall asleep, still uncertain of the men who’d taken him away from the life he’d grown accustomed to.

The three Chaos Magi gathered by the fire. Stret had slept in the carriage, but was still exhausted from the amount of power he’d used. Jia had spent most of the last two weeks chained in silver and was at least as exhausted as Stret, but he managed to keep himself awake.

Kor’tal was the only really awake Mage. Stret watched him through lidded eyes as he shuffled the fire with a stick, conserving his magic.

“Any guesses on how long until they launch a pursuit?” Stret asked the other two. He was in command, due to the fact that he was far more powerful than the other two combined, but they were far more experienced in dealing with Battlemage pursuit.

Kor shrugged and continued to shuffle the fire. “It depends,” he admitted. “Even without Car’raen escaping, they could have a pursuit force in play by now.
However
, they know we managed to take down an entire fort. It will take them weeks to gather a force powerful enough to defeat us.”

The Mage tossed another stick of wood onto the fire and watched it flare up. “On the other hand, a force strong enough to defeat us is going to include powerful enough Magi that they will be able to move
very
quickly.” He shrugged again. “Most likely we will be intercepted short of the mountains.”

“Wonderful,” Stret said drily.

“Perhaps,” a strange voice said softly. “Though not quite in the sense that you mean.”

Stret spun to face the unexpected voice, to find a young-looking woman standing by the fire. He looked closer, and realized she was translucent. She laughed. “Yes, Drake Mage Stret’sar, this is a projection. I am Mau’reek.”

Stret looked closer at the image of the woman whose words had drawn him from the peaceful world he’d built for himself. She was of medium height with light brown hair that reached down to her shoulders and piercing green eyes. An unhooded purple robe, constantly shifting in shades, shrouded her figure. She seemed to radiate an aura of immense power. He slowly bent his head. “Well met, milady,” he greeted her finally.

“You have done well, Stret’sar,” she told him. “We did not expect the Hawk to still be there, but you handled him as well as any of us could have.” She glanced over towards the tent where the boy slept. “The boy is all right?”

“Yeah,” Kor said. “Still uncertain of us, but at least he isn’t certain we’re the bad guys.”

“Yes. That, too, is thanks to you, Stret,” she said softly. “Do not worry, you did not lie to him. Not really. I may not be the mother of his body, but I
will
be the mother of his mind.” Despite her gentle words and tone, Stret sensed a layer of steel under Mau’reek’s words. “You have done very well. Bring them all north, and we will meet you. Bring them to us, and we will bring you to your destiny.”

She began to fade. “Wait!” Stret said. “What destiny?”

The fading projection smiled. “You will discover when you come to us,” she told him.

After it was gone, Kor looked up from the fire at the other two. “So what do we do now?” he asked Stret.

Stret looked at where Mau’reek’s projection had been. “For now?” he replied quietly, then shrugged. “We sleep. In the morning, we head to the nearest pass. As the lady says, I will bring you to them. From there… we shall see.”

Brea’ahrn, Life Mage Initiate, walked slowly cross the clearing. Two lines of white candles held in clear crystal holders marked the path through the garden. Trees surrounded the tiny space, looming over a dozen meters high. Her heavy robes were sweltering in the summer heat, but she’d been taught to ignore the discomfort.

She reached the edge of the clearing, where an arch, made of the same clear crystal as the candleholders, marked the entrance to the Life Chapel. She reached out and touched the air inside it. The air shimmered and rippled like water as her fingers collided with the barrier. She laid both of her hands, fingers spread, on the rippling air and pushed.

Her fingers sank in a little way, but were pushed back. She glanced up at the top of the arch and closed her eyes. She reached out to her fingers with her mind, feeling the Water magic that guarded the clearing. Only a Life Mage could pass through it, and only through this arch.

She melted into the magic guarding the clearing, touching it, sensing it. Feeling its life. Surprise ran through her as a voice spoke in her mind:
You seek entry, mageling? Then show me who you are.

The barrier was
alive
. She knew what to do now. She opened a tiny gap in her mental shielding and reached out with a splinter of her mind, a gestalt of who and what she was. Then her mental voice responded, adding her own words to the gestalt:
I am Brea’ahrn, Initiate of the Life Magi, and on this, the day of my seventeenth year, I claim the rights that are mine as a Life Mage of the Kingdom of Vishni.

The spellmind didn’t just take her gestalt. It followed the splinter back through her shields, seeking not just what she wished to show, but what she didn’t. Thoughts, feelings and images swirled forwards in her mind.

Those who lie to themselves cannot enter here, mageling,
the spellmind said, its tone scolding.

What do you mean?
Brea’ahrn demanded.

An image of Tal’raen floated up in her thoughts.
What does he have to do with this?
Tal was her confidante, her guardian and her friend. She’d never lied to him.

Not a lie to him. To yourself, about him,
the spellmind responded.

What do you mean?
she asked again.

What are your feelings for this boy, this man, this child of prophecy?
the mind demanded of her.

He is my friend. Nothing more,
she retorted hotly.

Even to yourself you lie in this, child. Look in your soul. Find the truth. You refuse to lie to yourself, yet you do in this.
The spellmind’s mental voice was gentle. A teacher showing a pupil a difficult problem, nothing more.

I don’t know what you mean!
Brea turned inward, shifting through her memories of Tal. A small smile drifted unnoticed to her lips.

Yes, child, you do
, the spellmind told her gently.
He has a great destiny before him, as do you. You must stand together, and so you already do.

Brea felt the calm that came over herself as she considered the young Mage who had, in the last year and a half, become her dearest friend.
Yes. I think I understand now…

You must admit it, child,
the voice told her.
To yourself, at the least. To him, perhaps. That is up to you. But you must admit it to yourself first.

She hesitated, unwilling to even think the words.
I… I love him.

The sense of a smile drifted through the spellmind.
You two are Mage-bonded
, it told her.
Your presents and futures are intertwined. You will decide each other’s destinies.

The shimmering in the arch faded.
Pass, Brea’ahrn, for I have Accepted you.

Brea walked into the Chapel of Life, following the path marked by the candles. At the other end of the clearing stood a small altar, formed of the same clear crystal as everything else. Two busts of the Gods of Life – Lilitha Andrela, god of healers, and Coran Fesh, god of craftsmen – faced each other on it.

As she advanced down the aisle, she felt something pull at her mind. She resisted for a moment, then realized it was part of the ceremony and let go. A moment later, she felt herself Shift. Her body morphed forwards and down as fur replaced her robes. She smiled slightly, baring the long fangs of her other form, at the gasps of surprise from the three Life Magi at the altar.

The pure white wolf, female of course, slowly loped down towards the altar. The still-mostly-human mind in the body recognized the three Magi. The Eldest stood in the center, flanked by the High Priests of Coran Fesh and Lilitha Andrela. A trio of Swearers only the most powerful of Magi were granted, and one that her other form had proven her worthy of. Wolf Magi came along perhaps once a century, were always female, and were the most powerful Life Magi there could be.

Brea felt the spell release her and she slowly shifted back to her human form. She took the last few steps and stood before the Swearers.

“Brea’ahrn, Initiate and Accepted of the Life Magi,” the Eldest said calmly, “kneel.”

Brea sank to her before the three of the most powerful full Life Magi in the world.

The High Priest of Lilitha Andrela stepped forward. “Initiate Brea’ahrn, for five years you have been an Initiate of Life,” he told her. “Before that, for five years you were a Novice. You have passed all tests and done all things asked of you in this time. As a student, you are done your Initatehood.” The man stepped back to stand before the bust of his god.

The High Priestess of Coran Fesh stepped forward into his place. “Initiate Brea’ahrn, for ten years the magic has grown in your body and your mind,” she said formally. “Your training has shaped and aided that growth, and it is now complete. As a Mage, you have finished growing and are done your Initiatehood.” She stepped back to stand before the bust of her god.

The Eldest stepped forward. “Initiate Brea’ahrn, in both power and training, you are a Mage,” she told the girl. “However, it is not the custom of the Kingdom of Vishni to simply allow young Magi to walk free and begin practicing. You are young and untested, and thus are not a full Mage. However, I must now ask that you once more take the Oath, to bind yourself to the Cause.”

Brea bowed her head. “I will swear,” she replied.

“Then do so,” the Eldest said simply.

Brea raised her head calmly. She’d known that any Mage who reached this far was expected to know the oath. She faced the Swearers calmly and began to speak the ancient words aloud:

“I swear to stand between the innocent and destruction,” she began softly, her voice growing stronger as she recalled the words she knew so well, “between Order and Chaos, between innocence and war. I swear I shall not wield Life Magic for my own gain. I swear to serve and aid those who cannot aid themselves. I swear to be the strength for those who are weak, the Life for those who are dying. I swear to be the order in the chaos. I am the growth; I am the beginning. I am Life.”

As one, the three Swearers spoke in response. “Life is in you,” they told her. “Life is you. The land is Life. The Kingdom of Vishni accepts your Life, your power and your service. Your oath is accepted.”

The Eldest stepped forward. The old lady offered her hand to Brea. “Rise, Wolf Adept Brea’ahrn,” she commanded.

Car awoke feeling like his head had been used for an anvil. He sat up and looked around, wondering what he was doing in the woods.
I must be miles from anywhere.
Then he remembered.

One of the more minor disadvantages of teleportation was that, in the circumstances where someone was desperate enough to use it, they tended to be drained so much that they arrived unconscious. “I never expected to test that out myself,” he said to himself quietly.

He stood, then leaned against a nearby tree as the world seemed to rotate around him.
Are you still there?
he asked the minds in his amulet

Why wouldn’t we be?
Jor’nial responded.

I wasn’t sure,
he said simply.
Any advice? I could actually use it for once.

The sense of a shrug came from the dominant mind in the Hawk amulet.
We recognized that boy
, one of the old Hawks, he wasn’t sure which one, told him.
He’s the same as Tal’raen.

The same as Tal’raen? Tal’raen is a Death Mage, not Chaos!
Car retorted

Not that,
Jor’nial said dismissively,
in what he is. We recognized them the same way. I’m not sure what it means though.

You think I should take Tal with me?

A sense of confusions came from Jor.
We don’t
know,
Car
, the dead Mage told him softly.
All I can tell you is that if you
don’t
take him, you don’t stand much of a chance. Also, if you take him, he’ll change forever.

What do you mean?
Car demanded exasperatedly, wincing at his headache.

I don’t know,
Jor said again.
I really don’t. If you don’t take him though, something horrible is going to happen.

Car levered himself off the tree.
I guess I have to
, he admitted.
Nobody else is as strong as me.
He considered for another moment, then Shifted.

He had a long way to go.

Brea drifted quietly through the ball, taking congratulations and thanking people for coming. The party swirling around the immense white marble pillars of the Great Hall was in honor of her becoming an Adept, but she hardly knew most of the people here. She was polite, but she was barely concealing boredom.

Boredom quickly shifted to disgust as she spotted Shel’nart across the room. She hadn’t seen him much at all in the years since their ‘betrothal’ had been broken off so spectacularly. He glanced towards her and paused in his steps. As she watched, he glanced over to his father and the men he was speaking with, then quietly slipped away towards her.

She glanced around quickly for a way out, but sighed as he approached. It appeared she had no choice but to speak with him.
Be polite
, she reminded herself, watching the young man approach.

Shel’nart had lost none of his burliness or height, but his face seemed… different. Brea wasn’t entirely sure what was strange, but there was something changed about him, and not just the scars Tal had left on his face. He was dressed in a plain maroon tunic, with the black belt of a full knight.

He stopped a carefully non-threatening meter away from her and bowed. “My lady Brea’ahrn,” he greeted her, his voice soft and courteous. “May I extend my heartfelt congratulations on your achievement?”

Brea wondered at the change. He was
polite
. She returned the bow with a slight curtsey. “My lord Shel’nart,” she greeted him in return. “Thank you.”

Shel looked around. “Is Lord Tal’raen around?” He asked, running his fingers over the scars on his cheeks in a gesture that seemed entirely unconscious.

Lord?
Brea was surprised. Shel had treated Tal as little more than a peasant last time they’d met. “No, I’m afraid he avoids social gatherings when he can,” she admitted.

“A pity,” Shel said. “I owe you both an apology, and my gratitude.”

“Gratitude?” Brea asked, the word shocked from her.

“I had an instructor tell me once I heard better through the scars in my cheeks than the ears on my head,” Shel’nart said dryly. “The Tal’Var school teaches self-reflection in defeat – and I concluded long ago it was not merely my swordsmanship that was lacking that day. I was crude, crass, and violent – and I was wrong. I am sorry.”

Brea simply nodded wordlessly. She’d never expected Shel to apologize to her for those long ago days when his father had tried to force a betrothal between them. It was… good to hear.

“There’s someone I’d like you and Lord Tal’Raen to meet,” Shel continued after a moment.

“Who?” Brea could not keep herself from asking.

Shel smiled, and Brea started as she realized what had seemed different about his face. He wasn’t sneering at everyone. “I learned many lessons from you and Tal’raen,” he said quietly.  “I applied them all when I met my wife.”

Even as he spoke, Brea spotted a woman in blue making a beeline for them. Shel turned to face her with a smile. She returned his smile, then turned to Brea.

“So you are Wolf Adept Brea’ahrn?” she asked.

Brea nodded. “I am,” she said softly, eyeing the shorter woman.

Shel’s wife smiled. “I’m Kiri’lor, Shel’s wife,” she told Brea, burrowing her way into Shel’s arm as she did.

Brea looked at the couple and smiled herself. “So things worked out for the best, did they?” she asked them.

Shel nodded, and Brea was struck once more by how much his face had softened. “Yes, they did,” he agreed. He paused, looking over Brea’s shoulder. “I thought you said Tal’raen avoided these gatherings?”