Sam Bowring - Prophecy's Ruin

Just one final light to snuff out, he thought.

And then …

Forks of electricity cracked down from the sky, striking treetops around the clearing, sending flaring branches to earth. Strike after strike, one after the other in quick succession. Tyrellan scowled, the lightning gleaming off his fangs. This reeked of interference. The higher powers were taking an interest. Strike after strike …

With the clearing lit up like white day, the girl straightened. Her arms steadied, her hands moulding power drawn from the light, and a ball of flame collected at her fingertips. Between lightning flashes the growing fireball bathed the clearing in its own orange illumination, lending strength unto itself. A few moments on and it was huge, the heat so intense that Tyrellan caught a waft of it in the wind.

With a defiant cry, Elessa splayed her fingers and released. The fireball roared towards the undead mage, expanding as it went. Fazel raised a hand to ward it off, but the ball changed neither direction nor velocity. Just before it hit him, he flung his arms wide. It was a gesture of embrace.

The fireball carried his burning corpse across the clearing where it exploded against a tree, sending out a cloud of sparks and ash.

Fazel’s words reached Tyrellan as his body became a conflagration: Tell your master that I did my best.

And after that a joyous laughter, fading into silence. The rain reduced the flames to tongues and charred bones fell to earth.

Thunder followed the lightning. The rain began to clear.

Battu flinched as the oncoming flames consumed his view and snuffed out Fazel’s sight. His real sight took over, blazing out the window, as if sheer force of will would allow him to go on seeing what occurred in the north. It did not. The bug-eye in Fazel’s head had been incinerated along with its host.

Why were there two babies? Damn it all, wasn’t anything ever simple? Did it have something to do with the Stone? He had recognised it for what it was, and harboured vague suspicions about what had happened …but now was not the time for theories. He could see no way to retrieve the Stone, and even if there was a way, there seemed no point. The damage was done.

Instead Battu cast around for other useable creatures, and found one so perfect he almost disbelieved it. One of the blade reinforcements who hurried through the wood towards the clearing was ignorant of the bug-eye in his skull – and Battu knew in that moment why he sent out so many of the creatures. Impatiently, he waited for the man’s sight to become useful.

All Elessa wanted was to lie down and sleep. Every vestige of her power had gone into the fireball, and another casting would knock her unconscious, if not kill her. More than anything, she needed another mage to help her heal. How far away were the reinforcements? She could no longer sense them. Pain stabbed her side again and she threw up.

Lurching forward into the smoking crater, she foggily remembered the child’s transformation. Two babies in the hole, both with blue hair! The closest turned a cherub face towards her and cooed. She wasted no time, moving forward to gather him up. How could a baby weigh so much? How would she manage the other one too?

The goblin she had netted rolled into the crater with a hiss, coming to rest next to the second baby, a dagger in his hand. So, her net had failed. Not surprising.

The goblin stared at her sideways, breathing hard, but apart from that he was still. So was the child in his grasp, she noticed, staring impassively up at the sky.

Elessa knew she had to move if she was to have any chance at all. The reinforcements would have to track down the second boy themselves. She backed away. As she did, another goblin emerged from the tree line across the clearing.

She turned and fled into Whisperwood.

Rhobi didn’t know Tyrellan was there until he felt the boot in his side.

‘Get up, you fool.’

‘Is she gone?’ snarled Rhobi. ‘Perhaps the only thing saving us from bolts of fire is my close grasp on this child?’

‘Nothing will save you from a dagger up your arse if you don’t do as you’re told.’

Rhobi stood.

‘Why are there two boys?’ Tyrellan asked.

‘There was only one in the hut,’ said Rhobi. ‘After that I was pinned down by the Varenkai. There was an explosion of some kind. I didn’t see what happened. And now, two boys.’

Tyrellan shifted his gaze from the pale baby to the direction in which Elessa had fled. ‘She won’t get far,’ he said. ‘I don’t think she has much more magic in her tonight.’ He seemed to reach a decision. ‘Take this one and travel south. Retrace our journey here. I’ll make a try for the other. But I have a feeling,’ he flexed a claw and turned to Rhobi, ‘there may be others in the woods tonight. Either way, I’ll rejoin you shortly. Do not deviate from the course I’ve given you.’

As Rhobi stared into the bottomless orbs of the First Slave’s eyes, the cruel features somehow made worse by their flat neutrality, he wondered if he would ever have the courage to follow through with his murderous musings.

Elessa stumbled over a root, her vision blurring out of focus. Her soaked dress clung to her like a second layer of skin, her body racked by an involuntary shivering that tore at her wound. The tips of her fingers were numb and she had to fight just to keep the baby in her grasp.

‘Please,’ she choked. ‘Please be close …’

The baby squirmed and cried out. With the storm subsided, the sound rang crystal clear.

‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t start that.’

The baby’s cries echoed through the trees like a beacon. Elessa stumbled again and this time she did fall, her arms clasped protectively around the boy. She hit the ground with a grunt.

They were partway up a rise littered with pale rocks and topped by a great tree. She managed to crawl up the slope using one hand, holding the babe against her with the other, and propped her back against the tree trunk.

As she drifted out of consciousness, the image of a shining heart flower filled her mind.

Tyrellan slipped through the trees, following the sound of the crying child, sending glances at the sky. There were only a couple of hours of darkness left, so he needed to be quick if he was to find safe cover before daybreak. On the way north Fazel had hidden their true natures with illusion. Now they would have to travel by night, or at least heavily disguised, lest they be hunted by every northerner who spied them. Hopefully Battu’s false invasion was keeping Kainordan eyes focused on Holdwith, as they had planned. Soldiers and mages would be called away from their posts, giving them fewer to avoid on the journey home.

He spied the girl, lying slumped against a tree at the top of a rise. She was dead or dying, for her eyes were closed and the child had slid from her grasp almost completely. Tyrellan produced a dagger and padded silently towards her. He could hit her, dead or not, from this distance and put an end to all doubt. Raising the dagger, he noticed her hand twitching. A wavering thread of light crept from her palm to entwine her fingers. Her eyes half-opened, watching him from beneath tangles of hair. For a moment neither moved nor spoke. Then:

‘Go away,’ said Elessa.

‘You’re dying,’ Tyrellan observed.

‘If you come any closer, I’ll outlive you by a few moments yet.’

Tyrellan slid the dagger back into his belt. ‘You have no magic left in you tonight, Varenkai,’ he said. ‘I know enough of the stuff to see that. One more spell will finish you.’