Children of Prophecy (6 page)

“You think something’s up,” the Hawk Car’raen stated flatly.

The Kingsman shrugged helplessly. “They have to know that the Magi will move against them if they attempt to secede, yet they seem to be quite confident. We think that Jyd’har is being put up to this and that there have to be Magi behind it.”

“Have you sent agents?” the Hawk asked.

“Four Battlemagi, two Life Magi and nearly a dozen Kingsmen,” Gav’rell told him with a nod. “None of them have reported back. There’s something going on under the surface and neither the King nor the Councils seems able to ferret it out.”

“So you want me to try?” Car replied, allowing his mouth to twitch. It was their right to request his assistance and if it was as bad as Gav’rell said, they needed it.

“It’s been seven years, Car’raen,” the Kingsman said softly. “We’ve gotten by without you, but we
need
you this time. We’re looking at a full-scale civil war, with Magi on both sides if some of our suspicions are correct. We can’t afford that now. You of all people should know Swarm incursions have increased in the last few years.”

Car nodded slowly at the last. The Rangers were the first line of defense against incursions, dealing with small groups of Swarmbeasts or Beastmen, and calling in Battlemagi when the Chaos Magi came through. They stood upon the front line of the Long War against Chaos.

“If it isn’t stopped, we’re looking at all-out civil war,” Gav’rell said bluntly, “and the Kingdom
cannot
afford that. Kelt’ahrn begs you to help.”

Car glanced over at Tal, still in the form of a black hawk, sitting on the perch. His lips thinned. “I think… that it’s time my apprentice acquired some experience in the world,” he said softly, then turned back to Gav’rell. “Tal and I will leave tomorrow. We’ll see what we can do.”

“Thank you, Hawk Car’raen.”

“It is my duty, Gav’rell, no less,” Car replied firmly. “Now, you should get some rest. I’m sure my cook can fix you up something to eat, but you have to leave in the morning.”

After Gav’rell had left, Car turned to face the hawk resting on the perch. “All right, Tal,” he said calmly. “Shift back now.”

Tal flew down to the floor and concentrated. He Shifted back into himself and stood up. “From what he was saying, it sounds like something major is going on in Kahir,” he said quietly.

Car nodded. “And it doesn’t sound good,” the old Hawk admitted. “We’re going to be leaving in morning, flying south.”

“Flying?”

“Yes,” Car said flatly. “Only pack what you can carry on you. However,” Car raised a finger, “be certain you bring your sword and your formal robes.”

Tal felt his eyes widen. “You think it’s going to get messy?” he asked. Formal robes were worn to special occasions, Judgments and combat.

“At the very least, we’re going to Judging some poor bastard. Bring the robes,” he ordered.

Tal bowed. “Yes, Father.”

Tal stood in darkness. He looked around, but could find nothing. Unlike some of his other dreams, he seemed to have a body, but he wasn’t sure it was his. He stood on something, but there was only nothing around him.

“Where am I?” he demanded.

As if in answer, a light appeared in front of him and he found himself dragged into it.

He was on the street of a city. Behind him, he heard a crashing noise and turned to watch an immense tower crumple to the ground, lit with flame. As he stared in horror, the streets suddenly filled. The people didn’t come from anywhere, they’d been there before – and yet not been there.

Those people were screaming and running, as creatures came boiling down the street, ripping apart those they reached. In gaps in the Swarm walked men in robes of a constantly shifting purple. When a group of children tried to hide in an alley, one of them gestured with a staff and a group of Swarmbeasts charged in after them.

Tal felt himself stride towards the swarm, which split before him. The Swarmmasters sank to their knees when they saw him. “Lord, the battle goes well,” one of them reported.

“I know,” Tal said harshly, the voice coming from his lips as cold and as pitiless as steel. “These mean nothing.” A wave of his arm took in the running innocents. “Come with me.”

He turned away and the Swarmmasters and their ‘beasts followed him, leaving their prey at his command. As they traveled, more Swarm gathered around them, until they reached another street, this one seemingly empty.

It wasn’t empty for long. Even as the Swarm moved onto the street, a formation of silver-armored Kingsmen appeared on it, marched around a corner and down the street, guarding a small group of robed figures.

Tal’s body bowed mockingly to the lead figure. “Greetings, Wolf Lady,” he told her. “I’m afraid your Black Lord can no longer save you.”

The woman stepped forward and drew back the hood of her robes. Long red curls framed a face that made every other girl Tal had ever seen seem like a crone.

“So it comes to this, Accursed One,” she replied with a toss of her. “I will
never
yield to you.”

Tal felt a mocking inclination of his head. “I’m afraid you’re wrong
,
milady,” he said coldly. “You
will
yield to me and be mine.”

She laughed. With the great city burning around her ears and faced with evil-made-flesh, she laughed. “
Never
, Accursed One,” she snarled, gesturing forward
the Kingsmen and Battlemagi with her. “We will die before we yield!”

“So be it.” Tal felt the shift before it happened, an arm snapping up. No fire blazed from it, but a lance of pure chaos.

The Battlemagi threw up a shield, but the lance cut through it like paper. It blasted into the lady and destroyed that beautiful face forever.

Tal woke, panting with the effort of
not
screaming his fear to the world. He slowly controlled his breathing, using the focus exercises he’d learned over the years of dealing with the dreams. This one was different somehow.
Who was she? That woman… she was beautiful…
He sighed and dragged himself out of bed, careful to put his feet on the rug not the cold stone floor.

He walked carefully over to the room’s single window. It was still very early in the morning and the light was dim. His look out the window showed the horizon glowing with colors, beautiful and alive. A sigh escaped his lips. There wasn’t much point in going back to bed.

A few quick steps took him to the wardrobe, a massive construction of local wood. He opened it and pushed the handful of plain black tunics to one side, revealing a set of clothing he’d only worn a handful of times in his life. The black tunic was the same color as the other tunics, but unlike them it was made of silk – and its enspelled weave would turn steel. A white robe, carefully cut to allow the wielding of a sword while it was worn, hung next to the tunic.

Before his Initiation, he’d spent weeks making these clothes with Shris. They were enspelled with protection and had to be made by the wearer and a Mage of the opposite type. He’d worn them several times while they were making them, to check the fit.

The only other time had been at his Initiation, when he’d taken his Oath as a Battlemage. As he stood next to the wardrobe, with the light of the dawning sun shining on him, the words popped into his head and he spoke them aloud:

“I swear to stand between the innocent and destruction,” he avowed quietly to the morning sky, “between Order and Chaos, between innocence and war. I swear to wield death in the defense of life and only in that defense. I swear I shall not wield death for my own gain. I swear to serve and defend those who cannot defend themselves. I swear to be the ultimate order that preserves all. I am the binding; I am the end. I am Death.”

The solemn words fell into the silence like stones. Tal looked down at his hands, at the sword calluses on them and at the other, stranger, marks that had been left by the wielding of fire and lightning. He sighed and began to pack the formal robes into a pouch to hang on his normal tunic and cloak.

Within days, he might be called upon to serve his Oath in the only way a Battlemage could: in battle. He would not be found wanting.

Tal was opening the door to the courtyard when he heard a throat clear behind him. He turned quickly, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword, only to release the weapon immediately. Shris’dari and the twins Jan’tar and Liv’tar stood in the corridor leading to the main portions of the house, watching him.

“Leaving without saying goodbye?” Shris’dari teased gently.

“I didn’t even think of it,” he admitted slowly. “We’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

The Life Mage shook her head at the child she’d helped raise. “Never assume you’ll be coming back, Tal,” she told him firmly. “Even the best-laid plans and most heartfelt promises cannot prevent the unexpected. Understand me?” she asked, lifting his chin with her finger.

“Yes, Shris’dari,” Tal said meekly.

“Good,” she replied with a smile, then swept him into her arms in a deep hug. Her mouth by his ear, she spoke again. “That said, come back to us, Tal’raen. I love you like one of my own, and it would grieve me if you never returned.”

Finally, she released him, and Tal faced the older and taller woman squarely. “I promise, I will come back,” he told her. “If I can,” he added a moment later, heedful of her words.

Shris’dari nodded firmly. “That’s enough for me, child of my heart,” she told him, then stepped aside, allowing Tal to see the twins, both of whom were concealing sniggers.

Tal glared at them for a long moment, allowing both of them time to subside. The youths’ faces quickly assumed seriousness, mostly unfeigned. Without any noticeable jostling for precedence, Jan’tar stepped forward and offered his arm.

With a nod, Tal clasped forearms with his oldest friend firmly. “It’s going to be strange without you two,” he told the twins quietly.

“And for us without you,” Jan’tar admitted. He squeezed Tal’s forearm, then spoke again, his voice formal with remembered words. “A strong bow, a sharp sword and a good horse,” he told Tal.

“May the hunting be good for us both,” Tal replied, finishing the Ranger’s farewell. The two boys exchanged a nod, and then released each other’s forearms. Tal turned to Liv’tar and offered the other twin his arm in turn.

“A strong bow, a sharp sword and a good horse,” Liv’tar repeated his brother calmly as he clasped Tal’s forearm.

“May the hunting be good,” Tal replied again, giving the younger and more self-effacing, if also more hot-headed, of the two twins an extra squeeze. “For all of us,” he finished softly, gazing at his two friends.

The twins nodded, and stepped aside as Tal turned towards the door. Before he could do more than step forward, however, Kove’tar stepped inside the door.

“There you are, Tal,” the Ranger boomed out. “I figured Shris’dari wouldn’t let you escape without saying goodbye.”

Tal bowed his head wordless to the older man’s assessment, and Kove’tar laughed.

“Don’t worry lad, it’s not a bad thing that people care about you,” he told the youth. “Now, I have a present for you before you leave.”

All things said and done, Tal was still a teenage boy. He perked up at the thought of a present, which brought another booming laugh from Kove’tar, who drew a long, cloth-wrapped package from behind his back and handed it to him.

The cloth unwrapped easily, revealing a sword. Not just any sword, either. The blade glistened with a blue wave pattern that marked it as Islander steel, the best to be found. Detailed golden scrollwork covered the hilt, decorating the blade without ever sacrificing one gram of functionality.

Its beauty took his breath away, but also made it easily recognizable to Tal. It was the sword Kove’tar had borne for as long as he’d known the Ranger.

“I can’t take this,” he told the older man. “It’s
yours
.”

“It was a gift from Det’raen, Car’s father, the day I joined the Rangers,” Kove told him. “It’s served me long and well, and now it should serve another. Take it. I want you to.”

Tal knew the older man well enough to know there was no use in arguing. He silently unbelted the plain sword he’d been wearing and replaced it with Kove’tar’s Islander blade.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and was stunned when the old Ranger offered his arm. He regained sufficient control to clasp it in the Ranger-style.

“A strong bow, a sharp blade, and a good horse,” Kove’tar told him. “I’ve given you one, the rest are up to you. Keep faith, Tal’raen.”

“May the hunting be good for us both,” Tal replied formally, then bowed his head to his swordsmaster. “I won’t disappoint you,” he avowed. “I promise.”

When Car entered the courtyard, he saw that Tal was already there, dressed in the black tunic and cloak that made up the working uniform of the Battlemagi; the cloak was lumped out by his sheathed sword and a small bag he’d tied to his belt. Car wore formal white robes over black clothing and carried his staff, four feet of white oak, tipped with a blood crystal.