Chaosmage (13 page)

A
couple of hours past midday, once he'd regained his strength from helping Zannah, Balfruss set off to explore Voechenka. He chose a direction at random, opened his senses to the surrounding city, and let his intuition guide him.

There was a heavy undercurrent of dark and unpleasant memories running through the city, staining every building and brick like black paint. It stretched as far as his senses would go in every direction, on the surface and right down into the bedrock beneath his feet. Older memories were faint, and these were more familiar compared to those found in other cities. Voechenka vaguely remembered a time before the war with a mix of good emotions and bad. Overlaying all of those were recent memories from people who had lived here during the occupation.

Balfruss could sense the hatred, cruelty and echoes of the many vicious deaths that had befallen the population. A host of horrors existed just out of reach, flickering at the periphery of his senses, but Balfruss made sure he kept them at a distance. In addition to memories, a sea of restless spirits lurked on almost every street corner. He did his best not to focus on any of them in case they noticed his awareness of their presence.

He was amazed anyone still lived in the city. Even without being sensitive to the presence of so many shades and so much raw emotion, it would be affecting everyone. They wouldn't know why it was happening, or perhaps wouldn't even notice because it was so gradual a process, but tempers would become frayed and emotions brought closer to the surface. Arguments would become more common until the cycle of violence that had spawned such a reaction came full circle and there was more bloodshed.

Taking a deep breath Balfruss shielded himself mentally from all of the horrors that surrounded him, weaving a fine net of magic to keep the worst at bay. He could still feel the emotions and sense the spirits, but he no longer felt hemmed in on all sides as if walking through a crowded street.

After another hour or so of wandering, seemingly at random, Balfruss came to an open area that might have been a market at one time. Compared to what he had seen so far the amount of destruction seemed very mild, with only half of the surrounding buildings turned to rubble. There were a few scattered pottery remnants and shards of coloured glass, but no wood anywhere in sight.

“It used to be a market,” said a voice off to his left. Balfruss turned his head and saw an older man idly sat on a pile of rubble. He wasn't surprised to see the stranger, who seemed equally at ease in his presence. The whole city was covered with traces of new and old magic and Balfruss had known that eventually whoever was responsible would find him.

The man was surveying the square with a whimsical expression. Somewhere in his fifties, with a grey beard, scraggly long hair and
deep
-
set
brown eyes, he didn't look very dangerous. Despite being dressed in only a grey cotton robe and carrying no visible weapons, he seemed at ease in such a dangerous place.

“What sort of market?” asked Balfruss.

“They sold pottery, little glass sculptures and wooden figures for children,” said the man, staring into the distance. “All sorts of things. Very little remains,” he continued, making a peculiarly elegant gesture towards the few pieces of broken pottery and glass.

“My name is Balfruss.”

“Ah,” said the man. “That explains a few things. My students call me Master, but you may call me Kaine.”

“Have you had many students over the years?”

Kaine raised one shoulder slightly. “A few. Only one or two ever became anything worth mentioning.”

“Was the Warlock one of them?” asked Balfruss, scanning the market square for the presence of others.

“Ah yes, little Torval,” said Kaine, chuckling to himself. “Such a grand title for someone so young, and in many ways, so weak. He was desperate for approval and when I didn't have time to shower him with affection he was angry and ran away.”

“Do you know what he did? How many lives were lost in the war?”

Kaine shrugged. “They're just flies, crawling on a carcass.”

“I can see where his arrogance came from.”

Kaine's expression briefly soured before he shook it off with another shrug. “The boy had problems long before he met me. All I did was help him in his quest for power.”

Balfruss shook his head as he slowly summoned his will. “You taught dangerous and destructive magic to someone who was unstable. You're partly responsible for every death during the war.”

“And yet the world didn't come to an end,” said Kaine in a bored voice. “Every day more squalling babies are being born. In a few years' time, who will even notice the difference?”

Balfruss couldn't comprehend his apathy towards the war and its lasting effects. Kaine was totally indifferent about the thousands of people who had died in the conflict.

“Look around you, there's your difference,” said Balfruss. Kaine glanced idly about the square but seemed unmoved. “And the Flesh Mages? Were they pupils as well?”

Kaine laughed in delight and slapped his thigh, but it made no sound and his mirth didn't echo around the empty market. “Another extravagant title for my students. The Talent is called skinwalking, not that it matters. It's difficult, takes years of practice, but the strong always survive.”

Balfruss had the impression Kaine didn't care about those who had failed and died during their training. Transforming yourself to take on another person's shape would require a remarkable level of concentration and skill. Getting it even slightly wrong would result in something horrific and deadly.

“Then you are the one I seek,” said Balfruss, readying his magic.

“Have you come to kill me? Are you going to punish me for my crimes?” said Kaine with a smirk that quickly slid off his face. “Do your worst. I've beaten stronger and better wizards than you, boy.”

This time it was Balfruss's turn to smile. “I'm ready.”

Kaine shook his head and laughed. “We're not back in the dormitories of the Red Tower duelling to test our strength. This is a game of Stones and my pieces are already moving across the board.”

Balfruss said nothing. Instead he reached out towards Kaine with one hand, and making a sharp twisting motion, he severed the connection shattering the illusion.

Kaine had been projecting an image of himself and was currently elsewhere in the city. He claimed to be the Master and yet hadn't risked coming to speak in person. It was the same trick that the Warlock had used during the war.

The arrogant inner voice, which sounded remarkably like his father, told Balfruss it was because Kaine was afraid. The cautious voice of Thule told him otherwise. Kaine had recognised his name, which meant he was aware of what Balfruss had done during the war and, perhaps, elsewhere. Stories of his deeds spread from place to place of their own volition and any attempts to squash them had failed. Instead Balfruss ignored them and laughed in private when the mundane was twisted into a tale of heroic majesty with only a grain of truth at its core.

Kaine didn't know truth from fiction. He was being cautious and what would follow would be Balfruss's first test, to gauge his strength and abilities.

Four figures came into view from the four corners of the square. Balfruss had sensed them approaching for some time and now he stood in readiness. They were each dressed in a pale blue robe with a deep hood, making them anonymous. Extending his senses Balfruss tried to gain a measure of their strength and was surprised at how weak they were in comparison to himself. They were not what he'd been expecting.

With every passing second he gathered more information. All four were young, eager and desperate to please. If this were a game of Stones then these four represented Kaine's weakest pieces, meant to test his defences. They were also his opponent's most numerous pieces on the board. Even so, if you were not careful sometimes a pawn could kill a king and the game was lost.

When one of the pawns moved Balfruss lashed out immediately, forging his will into a solid block of force the size of two clenched fists. With a burst of power he threw it towards the mage who had started summoning fire in his outstretched hands. The block slammed into the man's chest and Balfruss heard a crack of bone. The first pawn fell out of sight.

The second mage had already hurled something towards him, a tight cloud of icy spears, forged by drawing moisture from the already cool air. Instead of attempting a shield Balfruss simply rolled to one side, added some of his own will behind the ice cloud's momentum and let it fly. The third pawn across the square squawked in dismay and was only partially successful in blocking the attack. Several ice spikes tore into its robe and Balfruss heard a woman's scream of pain. She stumbled backwards and then fell to one knee, taking her out of the fight.

Sketching a shield with his feet, a trick he'd learned from Ecko, Balfruss drew power into his right hand, creating an icy ball the size of his fist.

The fourth pawn's attack, a nasty net of swirling energy, rebounded off his shield and he retaliated by throwing the icy ball into the air in a high arc towards the second pawn.

The young man watched the trajectory of the ice ball while weaving a hard shield above his head in a panic. Meanwhile the fourth mage switched tactics and tried to bring a hammer of pure will down on Balfruss. Expecting something drastic and clever from the ice ball the young man wove layer after layer of shielding above his head, creating a dense net in a
half
-
dome
.

Using both hands Balfruss blocked the hammer with ease, and then pretended to struggle to hold it at bay. Instead of attempting something else the fourth pawn tried to apply more power behind the hammer and squash him. While focusing some of his will on these efforts, Balfruss drew the axe from his waist and threw it towards the young man. He was so intent on shielding himself from the ice ball, that he'd left himself exposed to regular weapons. Balfruss's axe slammed into his chest, flinging the young mage backwards and killing him instantly. Dropping the farce Balfruss applied more force to the battle of wills, reversing the hammer's course until it came down on top of the mage. There was a sickening crunch and then silence.

Only one pawn remained and she had several ice shards buried in her leg and arm. Balfruss made sure the others were dead before retrieving his axe and moving to stand over the woman. She threw back her hood, on her second attempt, and stared up at him with defiance.

He'd expected her to be young, but she was somewhere in her thirties with white Yerskani skin and
jet
-
black
hair cut in a bob. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth and she had to spit several times before she could talk.

“You will never defeat the Master,” she said in a thick voice. One of the icy spikes had pierced her leg, severing an artery, and he could see a pool of thick blood beneath her. More had soaked into her robe and her pale skin had taken on a waxy sheen.

Balfruss said nothing. He made no threat, asked no questions and offered no blessing. The woman's strength started to ebb and she flopped down onto her back. The anger faded from her expression until all that remained was loneliness and fear of the unknown. Her hand flopped out, desperately seeking something, and Balfruss took it in both of his. He squeezed her hand and a faint smile touched her lips at the human contact.

“I can't see,” she whispered. “Why can't I see?”

“Rest,” said Balfruss, and her head turned towards the sound of his voice.

“Daddy?” she asked. Her chest rose one more time and then it stopped. A final sigh escaped her lips and her eyes stopped blinking, staring on forever until he closed them.

Balfruss gazed at the woman for a moment before finally releasing her cooling hand. He cleaned his axe, scanned the area for remaining traces of magic but found none.

Kaine must have known they couldn't beat him and yet he had thrown away their lives as part of a test. Balfruss hadn't been sure if Kaine's pupils were being threatened, controlled or just coerced into doing what he told them, but the woman's words had told him a great deal. They were true believers and it seemed they had free will. They were not mindless slaves like the Splinters.

It didn't matter now. There would be more where these four had come from. This was just the beginning. It was going to get much worse before it was over.

W
hen darkness fell Alyssa lit the two torches above the gate. She stared out across the city, waiting for the brief flares of light to spring up from the other bases. There was nothing else to see at night and the faint glimmers in the dark were reassuring. It told her that their camp was not alone.

Before the destruction of Voechenka she wouldn't have been able to see so clearly because the city was always awake. It was full of sounds from festivals, theatres, musicals, and artisans working late into the night. The city had throbbed with a pulse of its own making, forged from a thousand creative minds, each intent on turning their imagination into a physical reality.

Now, light was expensive and the darkness ruled. The streets were silent, the forges cold and the theatres empty. There were no more songs. Nothing was created and very little joy remained. Alyssa closed her eyes and murmured a silent prayer to the Blessed Mother to give her strength so that she might help others fight the darkness within and without.

“Come down, Zannah!”

Roake shuffled into view on the street below. The dead man looked even more dishevelled than the last time Alyssa had seen him. His clothes had never been clean to begin with, but now they were ragged with holes. There were dark stains on his chest and more down the front of his trousers. His golden skin was almost yellow and his legs wobbled as if they were stiff from lack of use. He wasn't like the other Forsaken. They never saw him with them and yet he had died and risen again.

“Is he down there again?” asked Zannah, coming up the stairs followed closely by Balfruss and Tammy. They were rubbing their hands together and she noticed their breath smoking in the air. Alyssa had grown so used to the cold in the last few years she barely noticed it any more. Part of her worried about what that meant and whether she was becoming numb to the world around her.

Zannah seemed different from this morning. Alyssa couldn't put her finger on what had changed, but she'd noticed the Morrin was more alert. Someone who didn't know Zannah might think her spirits were lifted by the new arrivals. It was a small mystery to unravel another time.

“He's just arrived,” said Alyssa, gesturing at Roake. The others peered down into the street at the sad lonely figure pacing around.

“Who is he?” asked Tammy.

“He's no one,” said Zannah. “He should be dead, but he won't stay that way.”

Balfruss was staring at Roake and his perpetual frown deepened. “If he's one of the Forsaken, why does he look so sickly and frail?”

“We don't know,” said Alyssa. “He always arrives separately and never works with them.”

Roake stared up at them and the intense scrutiny of so many people at once seemed to unnerve him. “I'll be back!” he squawked and shuffled off down the street.

“Should I stop him?” asked Balfruss, gesturing towards Roake with one hand.

“Let him go,” said Zannah. “He's an annoyance, nothing more. Save your energy for the fight.”

Alyssa knew that wasn't why Zannah didn't want Balfruss to intervene. The Battlemage could have picked Roake out of the air and let him dangle like a kite. She'd heard what he'd done to the mercenaries who'd tried to rob them on their way into the city.

Zannah liked having Roake around because he served as a constant reminder of what she'd done. He was a physical embodiment of her guilt. Zannah could have killed him and cut off his head, but she'd never once gone down into the street with him.

“Put these on,” said Zannah, offering Alyssa a pair of woollen gloves. Alyssa was about to refuse when she noticed she couldn't feel the tips of her fingers. “You can take them off later if you need to use your bow.” Zannah shoved them at her again and Alyssa quickly pulled on the gloves and turned to face the street.

The cool air increased visibility across the city, and above their heads a plethora of stars glimmered like diamonds in the black void.

“You look tired,” said Tammy to the Battlemage.

“I found who I was looking for,” he said and then offered a wry smile at their surprise. “He was waiting for me.”

“Who is he?” asked Tammy.

“I don't know where he came from, but Kaine has been in Voechenka for many years. He was here before the war and the fall of the city. He taught the Warlock and the Flesh Mages.”

Alyssa saw Tammy frown at the mention of the Flesh Mages, so it obviously meant something to her. Everyone knew who the Warlock was and what he'd done. Oddly, the people of Shael didn't blame him or even Taikon, the Mad King, for what had happened to them during the war. The Morrin and Vorga were the ones who had held the weapons.

“Kaine sacrificed four of his own students,” Balfruss was saying. “He wanted to see how I fought. He even said our struggle would be like a game of Stones.”

Tammy mused on his words for a minute while Zannah kept watch on the street. Even so, Alyssa knew she was listening just as intently.

“Do you play Stones?” asked Tammy, and Balfruss inclined his head. “What do you think he will do next?”

“Test me again, with stronger pieces using different tactics,” said Balfruss. “He came at me directly. Next time it will be unexpected and more difficult.”

“Do you think you can defeat Kaine?” said Tammy.

Balfruss didn't respond for a long time. “I'm not sure,” he said eventually. “I know he's ruthless, incredibly skilled and he has learned many lost magical Talents. How do you prepare for the unexpected?”

“If you need my help, you just have to ask,” said Tammy, touching the hilt of her sword.

Much to Alyssa's surprise Balfruss smiled. “I'm grateful. You remind me of an old friend from back home, Vannok Lore. There's no one I trust more to watch my back.”

“I'll take being compared to a big hairy Seve as a compliment,” said Tammy, with a wry smile. It was the first time Alyssa had seen either of them look vaguely happy since they'd arrived, but their smiles faded all too quickly.

“I think I'll need your help before long,” said the Battlemage. “But what about you? Did you discover anything useful today?”

“No. I searched the eastern part of the city, but found no trace of the Forsaken. The largest buildings seemed the most likely hiding places, but they were all empty. The Forsaken must be hiding somewhere else. Beyond that I need to know more, about where it all started and how it spread. Alyssa told me where to find the mercenary bases, so I'm hoping someone there can help me, although getting inside is going to be tricky. I need something to barter with.”

Zannah turned away from the street to stare at Alyssa and raised one eyebrow. “You didn't tell her?”

“No, not yet,” said Alyssa. “I didn't have time.”

“I found time to show the Battlemage,” said Zannah. “You can show her.”

“Show me what?” asked Tammy, turning her scrutiny on Alyssa.

“I'll stay up here,” said Balfruss with a chuckle. “We'll send word if anything happens.”

Alyssa gestured for the big warrior to follow her and she led the way down through the first two corridors where most people slept. She lit a lantern and passed another to Tammy before setting off. The steps were unforgiving and she couldn't afford to fall and break a limb or, worse, snap her neck.

As they descended deeper into the earth the temperature dropped and she avoided touching the stone walls as much as possible. When they reached the wine cellar their meagre light didn't even reach a third of the length of the cavern.

“Do you have any bottles?” asked Tammy, eyeing the stacks of barrels. “Because I don't fancy carrying one of these across the city.”

“We have hundreds.”

“It's perfect. The wine is worth more than gold.”

Money no longer had any value. Not in this city at least. In a place shrouded in nightmares people did their best to forget. In the beginning a few had sought peace in oblivion, by taking their own lives and that of their families. Alyssa had seen a few of them after they returned as one of the Forsaken. The misery etched on their faces could not be erased by any nonsense about it being a blessing, nor could the horror in their eyes at finding themselves alive again. Part of Alyssa liked to believe that when Zannah took their heads and they died a second time they found some form of peace.

Drugs to expand the mind had been popular with some artists, but much had been destroyed with the city. That left only sex and alcohol to help people forget the world around them, and the former never lasted for very long. After a few months alcohol was becoming as scarce as food and since moving to the winery Alyssa had considered trading wine for supplies with the mercenaries. Unfortunately the risk was too great despite them having so much to spare.

“You'll need to be careful,” warned Alyssa. “If they realise we have all of this, it won't just be the Forsaken we'll have to worry about. The other bases will tear down our walls ahead of them.”

“That's good advice,” said Tammy, her voice echoing in the dark. “Can you choose something fairly plain? Then I can tell them I brought it with me from outside.”

“In the morning,” said Alyssa, not liking how their shadows danced across the wall. “Let's go back upstairs.”

By the time they got back to the surface and then climbed the stairs, several more people had joined Zannah and Balfruss on the wall. All of them looked worried, but when Alyssa looked into the street she saw nothing to cause alarm. It took her a minute before she realised what was amiss. There was nothing to see. Roake had fled but no one had followed in his wake.

“What's wrong?” asked Tammy, scanning for danger.

“It's already late and no one has attacked us.”

“When was the last time that happened?” asked Balfruss.

“I don't remember,” said Alyssa. “The Forsaken always come. Every night. Even if we only see them on their way somewhere else, they're always here.”

“What does it mean?” asked someone else on the wall.

Alyssa wished she had an answer. Some would take it as a good sign, others as an omen of ill tiding. Further along the wall Zannah met her gaze and then glanced significantly at Tammy and Balfruss. She knew what the Morrin was thinking. That despite all the food and medicine they'd brought to the camp, and their efforts last night against the Forsaken, they were to blame for this.

Alyssa wanted to disagree, but their arrival coincided with a distinct change in behaviour. A small voice inside told her it was a good thing, to hold on to hope, but the louder voice was afraid.