Jak Koke - The Edge of Chaos

Slanya tried not to think about Duvan’s safety now, but she already knew that she would miss him if something happened to him. She steeled herself, focused, and tucked away her emotions as best she could.

She located Kaylinn, dragging herself from her chambers half-dressed and bleary-eyed. Slanya told her what Tyrangal had reported and what needed to be done to stop Vraith. She explained that hundreds of pilgrims could die in the festival-that the Order of Blue Fire intended to expand the border of the Plaguewrought Land.

The Order must be thwarted in this.

Kaylinn merely yawned and nodded. “Go confront Brother Gregor,” she said. “He’s not evil, just driven by selfish motives. Get him to help you stop Vraith. I will organize the temple complex, and we will meet you at the festival field.”

“Aye, High Priestess,” Slanya said. And then, overcome with gratitude, she continued, “Thank you for all you’ve done.”

Kaylinn merely grinned and said, “When this is all over, you can take my duties for a day while I sleep.”

Slanya laughed. “Deal.”

“Now go!”

Slanya grabbed her staff then raced to the stables. She quickly saddled one of the mares, eased it out of the stall, and mounted. Slanya heeled the horse into motion, quickly picking her way through the scattered tents toward the Festival of Blue Fire.

Warm wind washed over her scalp, her sideknot whipping as she rode. Despite the darkness of the night, the horse made no missteps. The mare easily negotiated the proliferation of tents and scattered wagons. Then Slanya was clear of the encampment and galloped up a short hill.

Wheeling her horse around, Slanya gazed down at the sight of the Festival of Blue Fire aglow with many bonfires. The pandemonium of the festival drew her in like a moth to a funeral pyre. Part of her wanted to dive in and dance, revel with the pilgrims, and let the chaos consume her. Part of her had always been drawn to let go of her iron grip on order. Abandoning herself to randomness would be freeing.

And self-destructive.

As the pallet of colors resolved in front of her, patterns emerged. Order from chaos. She caught sight of a long line of pilgrims arcing out from the border veil, enclosing the revelers. It made sense that the line marked where Vraith’s new border would be. Vraith would increase the size of the Plaguewrought Land by an area about the size of Ormpetarr.

If Vraith was successful, would everyone inside the arc be consumed? Burned alive by the chaotic changelands?

Where were Tyrangal and Duvan?

Slanya searched the skies above. Eldritch light from the border veil washed the sky in blue-gray, making it hard to see shadows. For a moment Slanya saw nothing but a flat, monochrome expanse above her-no stars or motes or clouds, although she knew all of those things were up there. A flicker of red flared low in the sky, drawing her attention.

Ah, there they were. Flying low, the burnished copper dragon breathed a stream of burning acid as she dived at a small group of what looked to be high-ranking Order of Blue Fire accordants standing amid a cadre of well-armed Order Peacekeepers.

Dragon’s breath belched forth from Tyrangal’s diving form, but the Order group stood their ground near the far end of the line of pilgrims, right next to the border veil. As Slanya watched, the deadly acid was absorbed by a protective sphere of energy that surrounded th group. And as the liquid ran off and hit the ground with a hiss, it became clear that nobody inside the sphere had been touched by the acid.

A few of the pilgrims scattered in fear. Most of them, however, held their formation, and those who ran were caught by roving Peacekeepers on horseback and returned to their spots. Other Peacekeepers fired arrows and cast spells at the dragon as she swooped past.

To her right, Slanya noticed the arrival of a well-armed fighting force on horseback. From the red-brown glint to their shields, she concluded that these new forces were Tyrangal’s own Copper Guard riding in from Ormpetarr. They immediately engaged the Order’s Peacekeepers as well. It was a full-blown battle.

Abruptly, flares of gossamer blue-white arched up from the shielded Order accordants on the ground. The flares shot out like ballista bolts encased in fire, up into the sky toward the circling dragon.

Tyrangal was wheeling around for another dive when the first of a barrage of flares struck her and Duvan. The blue fire wrapped around the dragon like tendrils of smoke and the dragon was lost in the clouds of magic.

Only for a moment, though. The fire washed over and off, like fog around the prow of a sailing ship. And in the passing wake, the blue fire swirled away and condensed, raining the stench of rotting corpses and oranges on those below, including Slanya.

She caught sight of Duvan, a tiny dark form clinging to Tyrangal’s neck, his spellscar protecting her.

Vraith had to be in the group that Tyrangal was attacking. Slanya doubted Vraith was powerful enough on her own to take on Tyrangal. But together the accordants of the Order of Blue Fire were more than a dragon’s equal.

Slanya observed all this in moments, trying to determine the best course of action. She could find Gregor and try to get him to stop the ritual, but as she took in the full scope of what was happening on the field below, it quickly dawned on her that things were too far along. Gregor couldn’t help her stop it now.

The line of pilgrims formed a nearly complete circuit around the field, holding hands. Accordants and others in the pale blue robes of the Order of Blue Fire scoured the line and stopped where pilgrims were jumbled. They made them get quickly back into line and link hands. And soon, if Slanya’s guess was correct, the entire line of pilgrims would form a complete circuit. And once that happened, Vraith would use those souls in her ritual to move the border of the Plaguewrought Land.

Not only would all the celebrating pilgrims inside be destroyed, but-more importantly-the Order of Blue Fire would see this as a huge victory, and they would do it again. And again. They would expand the Plaguewrought Land at their whim, wreaking chaos across Faerun.

Slanya shuddered. No, this must be stopped.

Just at that moment, Slanya registered a palpable change in the air around her. It was as though the line of pilgrims coalesced all of a sudden. Something new had arrived-the birth of a new entity. Slanya could feel it forming from the line of pilgrims down the hill.

She watched in rapt horror as the border veil spat the wild magic onto the nearest pilgrims at either end of the arc. Some power held the pilgrims in its thrall, for they did not run. They did not flinch or cry out. They did not react at all as the blue fire leaped from pilgrim to pilgrim and raced to complete the circuit.

Above them, the gauzy border veil fluttered, and Slanya felt her gut drop inside her as she watched. The solid, prismatic surface pulsed and flickered as the ritual magic increased, as the blue fire rushed along the line of pilgrim flesh and souls.

The ritual had started.

The rising screams reached Duvan’s ears as he clutched the rope around Tyrangal’s neck with both hands, trying to stay on. Hot wind blew foul and dusty through the border veil. Hundreds of tiny rock particles floated in the air, stinging his skin as they flew.

Duvan had never wanted to ride on a dragon’s back, and now that he had, he never wanted to again. Jerky and rough, with sudden turns, drops and climbs, the ride left Duvan’s stomach behind. His hands burning from the effort, Duvan’s entire job seemed to be to hang on and protect Tyrangal from the spellscarred’s attacks.

So he held on as tightly as he could, refusing to be dislodged despite his bruised hands and the cuts on his knees and belly from the dragon’s sharp horns and spikes. He held on despite the magical attacks from below, and the arrows flying past.