Children of Prophecy (22 page)

“Those things are uglier in real life than I’d thought,” Tal said softly.

“Drakes,” Car agreed simply. “Are they carrying riders? It is
very
important.”

Tal focused. “Yes. Well, two of them are…wait, the other two have saddles and they’re being mounted.”

“All Four? Dammit. Well, I guess we don’t have any choice,” Car said quietly as he stood. “I’ll try and get my amulet. You hold the others off and try to kill Stret’sar.”

“Why only him?” Tal asked.

“He’s important,” Car replied. “I don’t know why. I get the feeling we really don’t want to find out.”

Tal held his father’s gaze for a long moment before nodding. “All right,” he agreed. “Let’s go.”

The next thing Tal knew, they were in the middle of the group of five Chaos Magi. He took half a second to realize Car had teleported them again before he sent a Death lance at the closest rider. The Mage’s shields flickered into play just in time to stop it. The Chaos Mage absorbed the blow – sufficient to send most Magi to their knees – without his shields even flickering.

He spun as attacks hammered his own shields. He sent a swirling storm of lightning and fire at another rider, only to have it absorbed with almost no difficulty again.

A sudden yell brought his attention as Car launched his attack. Tal stared in horror as energy seemed to literally wave off of Car, far more than one man should be able to sustain. The Chaos Magi froze for a moment.

Stret watched as the Hawk launched his overpowered attack. His own shield joined with the Four’s to drive it back. After a moment, the assault faltered, pausing.

“I’ll take him,” he said to the Four, his voice carrying through the sudden silence. He stepped forward towards the Battlemage, raising his shields.

A voice from his right interrupted him. “I don’t think so,” it said coldly.

As Stret turned to react, a Death lance flashed across the clearing, hammering into his shields. He bared his teeth as he faced the younger Battlemage. “Very well then, if you are so eager to die.”

Behind him, the Four advanced on Car’raen.

Within moments of his challenge, Tal’s shields flickered under the assault of Stret’s chaos magic. A rapid, unceasing, series of Chaos lances, firebolts and lightning bolts struck his shields. Almost any other Mage would have been overwhelmed.

Tal focused slowly, reinforcing his shields. A moment later, he turned his shield into a reflector and the strike was directed back at Stret’sar.

Even as the attack faded, killed before it reached its creator, Tal followed it up with an attack of his own. Fire flickered from the ground and lightning surged down from the sky, a vicious storm appearing out of nowhere to bombard the ground with destruction.

A massive bolt of lightning shattered a nearby tree, spattering both combatants with wooden shrapnel. Another bolt struck, missing Tal by inches. The bolt was tinged with purple, and Tal realized Stret’sar was attempting to control the storm. He threw his own will into a mental battle for control.

Lightning flickered down all around the two combatants, shattering stones. One of smaller pillars – relatively small cousins to the gateway to the pass – was struck, and began to topple.

A gust of incredibly powerful wind caught the pillar, turning it towards Stret. It stopped in midair as the Chaos Mage met Tal’s magic with his own power.

Tal grinned, releasing control of the pillar and seizing control of the storm. Flashing lightning immolated the immense stone before it could reach him, and more lightning flickered down at Stret. Natural lightning, however manipulated, was vastly more powerful than any Mage could produce. Bolt after bolt slammed down near the Chaos Mage, battering him back. Then a last bolt smashed directly into the Chaos Mage’s shields.

Stret felt his shields collapse. He managed to stop the bolt, but there was nothing protecting him now. He watched as the Battlemage raised his hand, preparing to incinerate him. If the Mage waited long enough, Stret could get his shields back up.

Then something touched his mind. Touched, then swept around it and took it in. Even his mental shields were down, so there was nothing to stop whatever it was entering his mind. Power surged through him and his shields snapped back into place just in time to stop the Battlemage’s firebolt.

“So,” the grim voice of the Riders’ leader rumbled through the clearing. “The Children have come. Let us finish this.”

The gestalt of the Four’s minds and his own turned upon the young Mage who’d faced Stret and unleashed its massed power.

Pure Chaos lashed out with strength unmatchable by any human. It smashed into a shield, unimaginably powerful. Again and again the gestalt lashed out with Chaos, but the shield held.

Tal felt the attack coming and knew he was dead. Then it stopped. The shield was visible to him, glowing with darklight.

“Tal!” he heard Car shout. “Go! I can’t hold this forever.”

“They’ll kill you!” he snapped in return.

“Tal, they have the amulet,” Car yelled. “I’m
already dead
. Go!”

Another attack hit the shield and Car’s scream rent the night. “
GO!
”

“I won’t leave you!” Tal shouted back, but then Car’s magic took him. It ripped through his defenses like tissue, the Mage who’d taught him knowing his every weakness, and caught him up in the teleport spell.

The next he knew, he stood in an empty clearing, exhausted. His energy had been drained to power the teleport – and to keep him from going back.

Tal wavered for a moment, trying to gather the strength to teleport back, but crumpled like a rotten tree instead.

Stret slowly approached the area where the shield had guarded the young Mage. “Is he…?”

“Dead?” Mau’reek said from behind him. “The younger one, the Child? No. Car’raen saved him, damn it.”

“Car’raen?” Stret asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “That shield was powered by his life force. He killed himself to save the Child.”

Stret began to walk towards the place where Car had made his last stand. The Hawk’s robes lay where he’d fallen after teleporting the other Mage out, but they were empty. “There’s no body,” he observed quietly.

Mau’reek stepped up beside him and nudged the robe with her foot. A moment later she yanked it back, hissing in pain. A handful of dust drifted out of the robe.

“There’s that,” she said flatly. “Death dust, life dust, call it what you will. It’s one of the two possible remnants of a spell that kills the caster.” She looked at it. Stret began to reach down. “Don’t touch it, whatever you do. It’s… a physical embodiment of near-ultimate Order. It
hurts
for one of us to touch it.”

Stret turned back to the Riders. “What do you mean when you call me and that Mage ‘Children’?” he asked.

“You and he are the prophesied Children of the Twain, of the Hawk Lord’s Prophecy,” the leader said flatly. “The true pureblooded descendants of the Hawk Lord and Drake Lord. Destined to take their places.”

He looked at Mau’reek, then back at Stret’sar. “There is only one test left,” he continued. “You must take up the Scepter of the Dragon. If you survive, you
will
be Drake Lord.”

“Does the other Child have a test?” Stret asked, suddenly afraid. He had the feeling that taking control of the Swarm away from this man would be incredibly dangerous.

“Yes, but I think he has failed,” the ancient Mage said with a laugh. “You alone will bear the mantle of a Reborn Lord, and
nothing
shall stand in your way.”

Stret’sar, Drake Mage and Child of Prophecy, looked down at the dust of the man who’d represented everything about Vishni he hated. A memory came to mind, the sword of a noble running into the gut of his lover.
They failed… if I rule; can I not prevent such failure?

He turned away from the dust to the Riders. “Let us ride,” he said quietly.

The leader nodded. “For your information, Stret’sar, I am Lo’kae,” he told the youth. “Until you take up the Scepter, I rule the Swarm.” Lo turned to Mau. “Mau’reek, take the Amulet north. The closest ocean is there. Throw the Amulet in.” A cold smile crossed Lo’kae’s face. “After all, we must take no chances.”

The Rider nodded and turned her drake to the north.

“As for us, Drake Mage Stret’sar, we ride for the Temple of Souls, the
shek’maji’hil
. There you will face your final Test.”

Tal awoke to a war being waged in his head. He tried to stand up, but ended up leaning against a tree as the world spun around him.

“This isn’t good enough,” he said aloud, or tried to. His voice slurred and stumbled, as if his mouth wasn’t working properly. He spat to clear his mouth, and shook his head slowly. Stars flashed across his vision and the world began to spin again.

He waited for the spinning to stop. When it did, he braced himself and pushed off the tree. He stood straight up, controlling the trembling in his limbs, and began to walk across the wooded clearing.

Two steps later, he crumpled to the ground again. He felt something, and darkness swirled over his vision.

When he awoke a second time, the war had been reduced to a medium-sized battle. He remained on the ground, face down, for a moment. As soon as it didn’t seem that the world was going to start spinning, he rolled over onto his side and regarded the clearing he was in.

A small ash pit marked a campfire in the center. That, combined with the pattern of trees, glowing gold in the light of a midsummer sunset told him where he was: this was the place he and Car had last made camp.

The thought of Car brought the memories crashing back in. First, the battle at the Pillars, with Stret’sar escaping with the Hawk Amulet. Then the battle in the pass, fighting the Four and losing. And Car saving him, a life-cast spell allowing him to escape.

Tears began to roll down Tal’s cheeks – hot tears of pure rage. He looked at the sky, at the setting sun.
How many days have I lain here? When we fought it was already twilight.

It didn’t matter. Car was dead. Tal pulled himself to one knee, gratified by the lack of stars. He raised his hand before him, and the air solidified into a mirror.

“I look like shit,” he said loudly, his voice echoing through the clearing. It was a rather apt description. The formal battle robes of white over black were ripped and torn; smudged with dirt and ash. His sword, that precious gift of Kove’tar’s so long ago, was gone, completely destroyed by chaos fire. Nothing he could do about it now.

Tal focused. Twists of air cleaned the robe, removing the dirt and ash and blood. Then they began to mend the rips and tears. Even as the magic fixed the robe, it changed it, leeching the white out of the fabric with no conscious thought of his directing it.

When he was done, the robe was intact again, but its color had changed from white to the pure black of the dead of night. Tal disregarded the change in color, uncertain of why it had occurred, to focus on the mirror of air again. He didn’t think he could find Stret’sar, or even the Four, with a scrying spell. He didn’t know enough about any of their energies. He was almost certain he
could
find the Hawk Amulet.

He reached into the mirror, twists of air seeking what he sought. A vision slowly took form in the air, showing him a rocky tor, denuded of trees. Large rocks concealed what might have been on the hilltop, so he focused the vision.

He found a campsite, hidden in the rocks. A single woman leaned against the rock, while urging a fire higher with chaos flame. Against the other side of the rocks was a drake; one of the Riders. Tal focused some more, and the vision focused on a small pouch lying by the woman on the ground. The Amulet was there.

Tal held the image of the tor in the air, fixing it in his mind with great care. He didn’t care much for the risk he was about to take, but if he didn’t try he’d never even have the chance to avenge his adopted father. A moment later, he was ready.

The image disappeared with the rest of the clearing as Tal teleported. A moment later, a rocky tor lit by firelight appeared around him.

Tal had arrived facing the woman. He bowed slightly, mockingly. “Greetings and defiance, Fallen One,” he said softly into the night.

She snarled, the ugly expression marring the classical beauty of her face. “Who the hell are you?” she demanded.

Tal felt his face turn to stone. “I am Car’raen’s son, Mau’reek,” he told her coldly. “I am the apprentice of the man you killed. I am Death.”

Fire flickered out from his hands, but her shields flicked it away. “You are nothing but a child and a fool,” she snapped, sending fire of her own lashing out.

“I beg to differ,” Tal said calmly, raising his hand, palm out. Her fire gathered just before his palm, flickering in its malignant, shifting, shades of purple. A moment’s focus, and it turned the white of truly hot fire.