Children of Prophecy (25 page)

“Milady…” Mar’tell trailed off.

“I don’t want ‘milady’s, Captain,” she snapped. “I want answers. What is going on?”

Mar’tell seemed to hesitate for a moment before he spoke. “There were worries about some pirates,” he told her. “We were taking precautions for your safety.”

“Funny,” Brea said calmly, “Before Fesh and Kor went ashore, they were talking about Chaos Magi.” She went on, driving over Mar’tell’s attempt to speak. “This may come as somewhat of a surprise, captain, but I am quite capable of being told bad news. Now tell me what is going on!”

The Captain nodded slowly. “My apologies, Wolf Adept,” he said finally. “I believe I may have grown too used to guarding useless nobility.”

He gestured for her to follow him, and led the way into a cabin off the storage room. He turned back to her. “Earlier this morning, Kor was scrying for possible threats,” he told her softly. “It’s a safety precaution we’ve been following throughout the whole trip, but until last night it turned up nothing. Last night, he turned up an entire force of Chaos Magi: four Swarmmasters, with far too many ‘beasts for my taste, plus two Warriors with their warbands of Beastmen.”

He looked at Brea. “Fesh’tar and the others went to try to either stop them, or buy us time to get far enough ahead of them that we can reach the next Mage-fort – the nearest is about a day and a half’s sail away.”

Brea was silent. The only way six Battlemagi would make six fully accompanied Chaos Magi slow down would be to make them take the time to kill them. “Gods…” she trailed off.

“They chose it, Princess,” the Kingsman said quietly. “They’re Battlemagi, it’s the oath they swore.” Brea looked at Mar’tell, and he stopped his useless prattle.

“What if they fail?” she asked.

“Then we hope that either the wind picks up,” he gestured out the cabin window, showing the shore that moved oh-so slowly beside them, “or a miracle happens. We hope
hard
.”

The sun had only barely begun to rise when they heard the first explosions. Brea felt the magic being unleashed before she heard it, but they heard it nonetheless. It sounded like the sky had been ripped open and all the thunder of the heavens let loose in one immense storm.

Brea turned to look behind them. The slowly lightening sky was glowing with the fury of the battle taking place to the south. An odd purple color flickered across the sky, as did flashes of red and white.

Thunder rolled again, and she jumped. Moments later, she felt one of the Battlemagi – she couldn’t tell which one from here – die. Almost simultaneously, the sky turned white with magefire glittering from horizon to horizon.

It lasted for several seconds, then blazing inconstant purple seared across the sky to dispel it, and Brea felt another of the Magi die. The sky turned a malignant purple, almost painful to look at, and Brea could
feel
the amount of power the Chaos Magi were using.

Sparks of white and red flashed against the purple, and something seemed to tear as one of the Chaos Magi died. Then she felt Fesh’tar – she knew it was him, none of the others were as powerful – falter.

Chaos flared up and two more Battlemagi – one of them Fesh’tar – died at the same time.

“Run. Run damn you,” she hissed, tears running down her face as she felt the two Magi face five of their enemies.

For a moment, the Battlemagi, both veterans of the Long War against the Swarm, held. Another Chaos Mage died. For a moment, Brea prayed that they might manage to hold… and then the two Magi were running.

Brea couldn’t help herself, she ran to the stern of the riverboat to watch for them. As she reached it, she stumbled, feeling another of the Magi die as the Swarmmasters pursued.

She peeled her eyes to the south as the surging energies slowed, and then stopped altogether. Whoever the last Mage was, they’d managed to escape. For a moment, white light flared again as the Mage was attacked by something – presumably either Beastmen or Swarmbeasts trying to avenge a dead master.

A robed rider burst from the trees, hurtling towards the boat on a panting, exhausted horse. Drawing level with the boat, Brea saw his head turn back and she recognized Kor’tan. He leaped from the horse, Shifting into a panther as he charged into the water.

It took him only moments to reach the boat, and Brea joined in with the others in pulling him ashore.

“Fesh’tar and the others?” she asked, already knowing the answer but having to ask anyway.

The panther shimmered slightly, and shifted back into Kor’tan, the still-dripping, light-haired young man lying on the deck. “Dead,” he gasped. “They’re all dead. The survivors are gaining on us: three ‘Masters with swarms and a Warrior with warband.”

“Dammit,” Brea swore. She’d hoped that she’d somehow been wrong.

She twisted to face Mar’tell, where he stood watching the Mage in despair. “Captain, is there anything you can do?” she demanded.

The soldier looked haggard. “Highness, I have thirty men,” he said bluntly. “At a guess, there are still at least five hundred Swarmbeasts out there, with Magi. We cannot win. We must run.”

Brea looked back across the boat, turning back to the river. A few glimpses of motion showed themselves in the trees. “The only problem is that the Swarmbeasts run faster than we can sail,” she said despairingly.

Suddenly she felt a surge of power as the woods lit up with blue flame. Even hundreds of meters away, Brea felt the hair on her arms stand up as energy filled the woods and she
felt
the remaining Chaos Magi die, all of them… at once. For a few moments, the woods blazed with light like an inferno, then quieted.

A hawk slowly winged its way out of the woods, to settle on the boats’ deck. Brea stared at it for a moment, then it shimmered, and a man appeared where the hawk had rested. A black cloak completely encased his body, leaving nothing visible of his skin. Where the hood should have revealed his face, a glimmering shadow concealed his features.

“Who are you?” Brea demanded.

“I am the man who saved you,” he told her. “I am the Black Lord.”

“The Black Lord?” Brea said slowly, reeling at the sudden turn of events. “That’s not possible. The Black Lord is the prophesied…”

“Hawk Lord Reborn,” the man said flatly. “I know what I am, Adept.” He looked around the boat, and gestured Koris and Mar’tell to him. “Turn the boat around.”

“Look, whoever you want to claim to be, I am an Adept, and I am supposed to head north,” Brea exclaimed.

The empty-seeming hood regarded her. “Lady Brea’ahrn, the northern portions of the Kingdom are under assault,” he informed them. “Were your escort intact, I would happily allow you to make your way north, where your talents would be useful, as would the soldiers and Magi. Your escort, however, is not intact. If you go north, they
will
kill you. You were the target here. Something about you frightens whoever is leading the Swarm. You are returning south.”

There was something familiar to Brea in the way the man spoke, both in his voice and in the way he drove over any resistance, but she couldn’t place it. Whatever it resembled, it was also
very
different.

“I refuse to take orders from someone with a glamored face,” she snapped. “Reveal yourself, or we continue north.”

“I don’t think so,” the Lord stated calmly. He turned to Koris. “Captain? Take this boat south. Now.”

Koris bowed deeply. He looked at Brea and shrugged apologetically. Moments later, he was giving orders to his crew. The Islanders leaped to obey, pulling ropes to fold in the sails and twist the ships rudder.

The hooded Mage returned his regard to Brea. “My lady, I will reveal myself to the High Council and to no-one else,” he told her softly. She had the feeling that his hidden eyes were burning into hers like those of the Hawk he’d been moments before. “If you truly want to know who I am, try to break the glamor.”

She took him up on it. Her powers flashed out, all the power of one of the most powerful Life Magi in generations. It impacted upon the spell holding the glamor in place, searching for the weaknesses to break.

There were none. Her spell ran off the other Mage’s defenses like water off a duck’s back. She stepped back involuntarily, breathing heavily.

“As I said, Lady Brea’ahrn, I will reveal myself to the Councils, and to no-one until I have been acknowledged by them,” he repeated. “I understand that you want to help the people in the north,” he continued, his voice soft, “but your death would not aid them, and the Chaos Magi raiding there would hunt you down specifically. We must return south.”

Brea turned away from the Mage Lord and nodded, sharply, once.

Sailing against the wind, with most of their motive force being provided by the current, it took the boat seven days to reach the Deoran docks. In all that time, Brea had not seen the Black Lord move from where he sat, meditating, at the bow of the boat. He’d spoken to no-one, and ignored any attempt to speak to him. As far as Brea knew, he hadn’t even eaten.

Well, he
has
to move now. We’re at the docks!
Brea wasn’t too certain, however, as she watched the unmoving figure.

The moment the boat drew near the docks, she saw him stand and walk over to where the ship’s crew was hauling on the tie-ropes to lend a hand. He still said nothing, and he didn’t appear to be using any magic, merely pulling with them.

It was a matter of minutes before the boat was alongside the dock. Brea stood and walked forward to the gangplank.

“Lady Brea’ahrn,” the Black Lord said from behind her as she stepped onto the bare wood.

She turned. “Yes, my lord?” she answered politely.

“I must request your aid as a guide to the castle,” he told her courteously. “I must speak with your father.”

Oh, he’s just going to
love
that.
The Earl Jil’nart and his anti-Mage faction had continued to gain influence at court, despite the minor setback of Brea refusing to marry Shel’nart. They would
not
be pleased at this.

None of this showed on her face. She merely nodded. “Very well, my Lord.”

When they entered the Citadel, a flustered Kings-Captain met them. “Princess Brea’ahrn!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing back?” His eyes flicked to the Black Lord. “And who is this?”

The soldier’s wary tone was understandable. The Black Lord wore robes identical to those of a Battlemage – except his were black. There was a very specific symbolism to the white robes, and the thought of what the black robes should mean – power unrestricted by any oath –
should
scare the man.

“I need to speak with my father, captain,” Brea responded, evading both questions. “It is of the utmost importance.”

The captain began to look around nervously. “He is in a meeting with the Battle Lord and the Lady of Life,” he admitted hesitantly.

“Perfect,” Brea heard the Black Lord say. “Take us there.”

The Kingsman looked at Brea. She shrugged. “As he said, take us there,” she told him.

He bowed obediently. “Your wish, Lady Brea’ahrn.”

Brea led the Black Lord into the conference room hesitatingly. As the door opened, her father looked up and saw her.

“Brea’ahrn!” he exclaimed, startled. “What are you doing back?”

“The boat was attacked. The Magi of my escort were killed,” Brea told him, inhaling sharply to help drive past the sudden surge of emotion as she remembered the feeling of those Magi dying… to save her. “Only his,” she gestured at the Black Lord, “intervention managed to save us.”

“Attacked?” Shej’mahi said from behind Kelt’ahrn, incredulously.

“Attacked,” the Black Lord confirmed. “One of the minor passes has been seized, I’m not sure which one, and the Swarm is using it to raid across the mountains. They were specifically hunting Brea’ahrn.”

“Who is this, Brea?” her father asked.

“He has refused to tell me his name,” she replied.

Her father turned to him. “Mage, for what you have done, I owe you a debt,” he said quietly. “Who is it I have to thank?”

“I cannot reveal that yet, my liege,” the Black Lord replied. “It is not yet time.”

Kelt was taken aback, but Shej cut in. “You said they were
hunting
Brea?” he demanded.

“Yes, they were,” the Lord told him simply.

“But that sounds like they were given a mission,” Shej said, his voice strange. “That would mean that someone had taken up leadership of the Swarm.” The Battle Lord seemed to simply be wondering aloud.

“It does,” the cloaked figure said simply. “Someone has. I cannot tell more to anything less than the full Council of Eleven,” the Black Lord’s voice was calm, for someone making a nearly impossible demand.

“Who do you think you are, to request that?” the Lady spat.

“I think I am a Mage,” the Lord said calmly. “I invoke Mage Right, to present my case before the High Council.”