Chaosmage (39 page)

T
ammy stared down at the long lines of bodies laid out in the courtyard. All of them had been covered with blankets to conceal their wounds. But the brightly coloured wool could not hide the cost of their victory. Almost half of those who had fought on the wall were dead, with many more severely wounded.

Among the dead were several mercenaries, including Graff, who had died protecting two injured locals. Graff had killed the Forsaken, and three more, before he was run through. Even then he fought as if berserk until finally his strength ran out. In his final act, he'd hugged one of the Forsaken to his chest and thrown them both from the wall. Like everyone else, he had witnessed Alyssa's bravery and had done his best to make her proud.

At first when Tammy saw what remained of his body she'd thought it was Kovac. When he appeared a few minutes later from inside she was torn between the urge to kill or kiss him. She settled on the latter, much to his surprise.

The wounded had been carried inside where they were being tended, while almost everyone else was either eating or asleep from exhaustion. Tammy's limbs felt leaden but she couldn't rest, not yet.

They had driven the Forsaken away, and killed many of them in the process, but she didn't think that they were completely gone. Fenne had disappeared at some point as well, which told her it wasn't over.

Earlier, Balfruss had moved the cart laden with stone so that they could open the gate, but once again the effort had proven a great struggle. He had almost passed out and even now, more than an hour later, was sat in the same spot. As Tammy approached she thought he was asleep or in a daze but she saw his eyes were open. They were staring at something far away and he seemed completely oblivious to his surroundings. His left hand was slightly raised and the fingers were twitching ever so slightly, as if he were pulling on very delicate strings. She noticed he was facing out towards the city, looking through the open gates. Tammy peered out, expecting to see something amiss, but the street was empty.

“Did you need my help?” he asked, startling her.

“How are you feeling?” asked Tammy.

“Exactly the same,” said Balfruss, and to her surprise he smiled, as if that were a good thing.

“I'm going to organise some tracking parties to hunt down the remaining Forsaken. They may have fled back to the tunnels, but they could be elsewhere since we know where they've been hiding. Are you well enough to come with us?”

Balfruss considered it for a moment and then offered her that secret smile again. “Yes, but there's something I have to do first.”

Balfruss walked into what could only be described as a laboratory. On one side of the large room, shelves lined the wall from floor to ceiling. Floating in a series of jars were various animals, plants, internal organs and some things he couldn't identify. In those nearest the door he saw several lumps of purple tissue, which he assumed were human organs until he saw the black tendrils. As he drew closer he noticed that while everything else in jars appeared to be dead and in a state of decay, these specimens were fresh and still alive. A few black tendrils twitched and jerked, feebly clawing at the glass.

In the centre of the room was a massive table that ran the entire length. A vast array of books, glass tubing, vials of liquid, paper, animal skulls and all sorts of seemingly random items were scattered across the surface. Given the size of the table and the amount of space in the room it must have taken its owner years to accumulate the collection. Some of the objects were stacked so high in places they almost reached the ceiling. The whole place smelled musty and yet there were layers of other scents beneath the dust. Rotting meat and vegetables, spicy herbs and abrasive smells he'd associate with an apothecary. They were all jumbled together like the contents of the room.

The only part of the room that showed any sign of order was the far wall. It was lined with shelves full of identical red books, all with handwritten labels on the spines. A door at the rear led to what he guessed were living quarters and light came from a series of small windows set high on two walls that looked out onto the street above.

A young woman with unkempt blonde hair shuffled into the laboratory from the back. She was hunched over and muttering to herself as she held a book in one hand and a yellow bone in the other hand. Balfruss guessed she was originally from Yerskania, but her skin was so pale he suspected her lack of colour came from rarely leaving this room. It would also explain her dishevelled clothing and bare feet which were covered with grime. Her hands were impeccably clean, though, which seemed a peculiar contrast to the rest.

Moving to the long workbench she cleared a space, set down the book and tilted the bone towards the light, peering at it closely. After a few seconds she realised he was standing there, but rather than registering surprise at his presence she seemed disappointed.

“Ah, you're here,” she said, before carefully setting the bone down and peering at him. She squinted and then fished around on the desk before retrieving a pair of battered glasses, which she perched on the end of her nose. “I rather hoped you'd be on your way by now, Balfruss.”

Studying her face he expected to see something familiar, but there was nothing he recognised. He'd never seen her before in his life.

“On my way where?”

“Oh, I don't know,” she said, flapping a hand towards the windows and the world beyond. “Somewhere, anywhere that's not here.”

Despite her being a stranger to him, there was something familiar in her mannerisms and the way she talked, though he couldn't put his finger on it.

“It took me a while, but eventually I realised why I had such a strong compulsion to leave Voechenka. The feeling wasn't there to begin with,” said Balfruss, moving slowly down the room towards her. “It only started after I fought Kaine. I thought I'd been infected by the bleakness of this city, but that wasn't it.”

“It could have been,” she suggested. “This place is a stinking tomb, full of despair and sorrow. It's reasonable to assume that whatever leaked into the bones of this city might have seeped into you.”

“It was you all along,” said Balfruss, and all at once the pieces in his head slid into place. The way she spoke with an air of wisdom and authority more usual in someone much older. The way she peered at him through her glasses resting on the end of her nose, as if he were a student in her classroom. The way she seemed disappointed and yet not surprised by his presence. The years peeled back and he was a boy again at the Red Tower, dreaming of being old enough to shave.

“There is no Kaine, only you. Polganna Naral, formerly of the Grey Council.”

The woman tilted her head to one side and a sly smile crept across her face. “You were always a gifted student.”

Many years ago Balfruss had been among the last pupils to be taught by members of the Grey Council. This was before they'd abandoned their posts and gone in search of a prophesised saviour who would change the nature of magic. At the time all of the Council had been in their
mid
-
fifties
and he had assumed that by now they'd be dead. And yet, the young woman standing in front of him was Polganna.

“How?” he asked, gesturing at her face.

“Think, then tell me the answer,” she chided him, turning back to her book while he thought it through.

“You used the Source to regenerate your flesh.”

“Not just my flesh,” she said without looking up. “Young skin wouldn't do me much good if my organs rotted and my joints were stiff and old. It took years, and many experiments,” she said, gesturing vaguely at the jars. “But eventually I unlocked the secret. It started with the Morrin, of course.”

Their special connection to the Source gave all Morrin unusual longevity. A rare few could manipulate it like Zannah, who could survive normally fatal wounds.

Somehow Polganna had found a way to tap into that ability and use it to heal her body and then go beyond that and reverse the ageing process. Staring at the organs floating in the jars, Balfruss wondered how many had belonged to Morrin.

“The Flesh Mages. Were they planned or a
by
-
product
?”

“That was unexpected,” conceded Polganna. “But it was such an exciting and remarkable discovery. I found an old reference to the Talent. They called it skinwalking.”

“If I ask you how it was done, will you tell me?” said Balfruss. A trickle of sweat started to run down the side of his face, which he quickly wiped away before she noticed.

Polganna finally lifted her eyes from the page and raised an eyebrow. “You want to learn how to skinwalk?”

“No, I mean what you've done to me.”

That sly smile came again, slower this time. Polganna was obviously particularly proud of how she'd hobbled him. “Ah, that. Are you to be my pupil again, young Balfruss?”

He didn't know if she was being serious or not, but he played along and shrugged his shoulders, forcing himself to relax. “We both know there's little I can do in my condition except listen. I can barely reach for the Source without feeling nauseous and wanting to run from this city.”

“It would have faded,” said Polganna, “but I had to make it a strong compulsion to ensure you had no urge to come back later. I detest interruptions.”

“I'm curious, just like you,” he conceded. “I was never satisfied with what I was taught. I knew there was so much more. So many secrets being held back from me.”

Polganna gave him her full attention now, moving slightly towards him with a smile that was warm and almost maternal. “Yes, you were so driven and still are. My little birds have brought me many stories of your adventures over the years. Into the desert, during the war, and then across the Dead Sea. You must have seen some remarkable sights.”

“A few, which I can share, if you will.”

“Yes, your compulsion,” said Polganna. “You said it started when you fought my final Splinter, the old man. It actually started the minute you entered the city and used magic. What's one of the first lessons you were taught at the Red Tower?”

“A Battlemage's strength will never change over time,” he replied, even though they both knew it was a lie.

“And what else?”

“That everyone's connection to the Source is unique.”

“That part is true at least,” said Polganna. “Every time you meet someone else with the ability, you feel a pulse from them. It is the echo of like calling to like, but if you listen very closely, you'll notice it's always slightly different in pitch. All I did was listen carefully when you used your magic and eventually found yours. I simply added something to that connection.”

“Can it be reversed?”

“Of course,” said Polganna, seemingly appalled by his suggestion that anything she'd done could not be undone. “Such an unnatural reflex starts to decay over time, so it would have faded eventually.”

Balfruss tried his best to hide his relief, but he suspected there was very little that Polganna didn't see.

“Here, let me show you,” she said, and before he saw what she'd done, a wave of energy passed through him. Tentatively he pretended to reach for the Source for the first time, drawing a large amount of power and summoning a flame on the palm of his outstretched hand. The sickness and fear had gone, as had the compulsion to leave the city.

“Is it even worth asking why?” he said and Polganna just tutted.

“Think, then tell me the answer,” she repeated, just as she'd done when he was a boy.

“Knowledge.”

“Exactly,” said Polganna, sweeping her arms wide to encompass the whole room. Balfruss noticed there were echoes of the Warlock in how she spoke in a dramatic fashion. He must have spent many years studying under her. Balfruss extinguished the flame but maintained a minute connection to the Source. The same one he'd been holding on to since before entering the room, only now it was much easier.

“A lifetime's work and it's still not done,” Polganna was saying. “There's so much left to discover.” With that she turned back to her books and Balfruss knew he had to keep her full attention on him.

“Did you actually find whoever the Opsum Prophecy referred to?”

Polganna looked up at him and laughed. It was a rich warm sound full of genuine mirth that normally he would have found endearing, but knowing who lurked under the young flesh mask made his skin crawl.

“We searched for years, travelling through every city, town and backwater village. Always we went in disguise, so as not to draw attention to ourselves. We separated to cover more ground and after a decade of searching the entire continent, do you know what we discovered?” Polganna was starting to look hysterical and her eyes were wide and manic. “Nothing!” she roared in a voice so loud it rattled the jars on her table. “They wanted to continue, even though I knew it was a fool's errand. So I came here and began my experiments.”