The Flames of Deception - A Horizon of Storms: Book 1 (2 page)

The
creature’s screams carried on the wind for miles.

The
rider-less mare fled from the sound with all the speed she could
muster, her hooves pounding the sodden land for traction. Fields of
grass blurred into one another. The rain finally died down and in
the distance, the shadowy image of a large city came into view
against a mountainous backdrop. She flew for the silhouetted land.
Never in her life had she moved as fast as she was at that moment.
Howls from close behind spurred her on until the colossal pyramid-
shaped structure of archways and pillars resolved itself further
out of the darkness from the light of thousands of torches within.
She approached the grass plains at its base.

Behind, the demon gained ground once again.
It
had
to have what it had come for! Failure was not an option for
it! The enemy could
never
have the gemstone! As it slapped the reins of its horse
harder, it closed in on the mare. The creature smiled: it
would reach her
before she could make it into the city. Closer.
Closer
. Close enough! A twisted arm reached
out to the exhausted animal. Then the beast’s deep, dark eyes
caught sight of a flash in the black skies above and a bolt of
lightning seethed downwards, straight towards it, striking it in
the chest and sending it flying from its horse, rolling through the
soaking grass. When it stopped the creature looked down at its
steaming chest. A black mark stretched across its
ribcage.

Through the rain a new rider hurtled towards the creature, a
tall iron staff in hand. Their eyes glowed like bright sapphires in
the darkness and their curly brown hair whipped in the gale. The
monster snarled, rose to its feet and then ran towards them as they
pointed the staff towards the demon. Fire poured from the end of
the rod, engulfing the creature. It wailed and threw its flaming
body around, trying to shake off the maelstrom, but it was useless.
As the skies rumbled, the beast fell, burnt to the core.

The new rider stopped for a moment in front of the
body, poking at it with the staff and then nodded. He looked
around, but the creature’s horse had already fled into the night.
He
turned
away from the corpse and reared his own horse, galloping back
towards the city, the lone mare now safely in its grounds and with
her, the velvet bag and its contents that her rider had died
for.

Above, the storm raged on.

“
The storm front approaches upon
the horizon and all that seems to stand between it and the sacking
of the world are the band of four, who haunt my dreams
every
night this past
year. They appear
destined
to blow away the sickly winds and cast out the darkness
that seems
so
insurmountable. I am almost
certain
now that they are the
only
saviours from that horizon of storms,
even if those
around
me think me mad and dismiss my warnings. But there is more
I see. One amongst them holds the bloodline of the
Akari!
”

From
the notes of Isser Interlock, the Poet Laureate of the Kingdom of
Aralia, written 451 N.E. (New Era).

The
sun had only just begun to creep above the horizon of early morning
as a knocking on the east gate of the City of Rina, Capital of the
Kingdom of Aralia, broke the peace. Mist hung heavily in the crisp
air, and dew coated the grassy plains that spread out from the
white, stone - walled city in all directions for miles. Aside from
the dusty, gravel path that wound its way around the countryside,
the city was an isolated, whitewashed beacon within the lush,
overgrown fields, filled with early summer blooms.

The
door to the little - used entrance rattled on its old, iron hinges
as the knocking continued. Its cause was a lone, young man, who
rapped again and again with the end of a tired, wooden staff. He
stopped a moment to let the dust settle from the surrounding
stones, swept the long, straight, brown hair of his fringe out of
his eyes and across his mildly tanned brow, and then exhaled
impatiently, puffing out a tune through his lips. He was tall and
slender, with a posture that exuded confidence. Then, clicking his
tongue, he rapped again, louder still than before. With his free
hand he played with the pendant around his neck, twisting it
impatiently between his fingers. The silver arrowhead caught the
emerging daylight, and a round cut ruby encrusted in its centre
glinted. To most people on the continent of Triska, the meaning of
the emblem was palpable: only a wizard of Mahalia wore such
jewellery, and men had learned to tread carefully when the
arrowhead made itself known.

“
Come
on,” the man sighed, and then lowered his voice to
a whisper. “I haven’t got all day, you know. If I did I would be
somewhere warm and cosy.” He knocked his staff against the door
again, and again, and then
again
–
rata-tat, rata-tat.
At last a person opened the peephole in the door,
and a beady, bloodshot eye poked out. It took in the young man
standing just beneath the hatch, studied his delicate features, and
then, with a guttural voice, addressed him.

“
Who’s there?” the eye said. “For the
gods’
sakes
, I was ‘aving a bloody nap! Do you know what
time
it
is?”

“
Time
you
answered the door,” the man said beneath his
breath, but then smiled broadly. He struck his staff into the soft
earth and brushed off his expensive red coat, its shoulders
bristling with golden - embroidered overlay twisted into delicate,
floral patterns, and its gregariously flared sleeves glittering
with sequins. Lace spilled out the ends from a silken white shirt
beneath as he raised his hand in salutation, and with his other
hand he loosened a dark blue cravat, tied messily around his neck,
as he spoke. His grey eyes sparkled, and for the smallest of
moments they seemed to flash a bright blue.

“
My
name is Matthias,” he announced, nodding to the peephole. “Who are
you?”

“
That’s none of yer business! Bloody
foreigner!
” the eye grumbled. “Right pains in the
backside!
”

Matthias raised a brow in surprise. “Do you speak
to
all
your guests so politely?” he asked.

“
Yer
ain’t no guest ‘ere,” the eye continued. “Not
whilst you is on
that
side of
my
gate! Now what is it you want?”

“
Isn’t it obvious? Why do
most
people knock on one side of a door? I
would like to come
in,”
the man known as Matthias continued.

The eye squinted. “If I’m to let you in Mister,
I’ll need to know more than just yer blooming name! What’s yer
business ‘ere
?
”

Matthias sighed. “I’ve come from Mahalia. I have business in
your city on behalf of the Council of Wizards.”

The eye in the door sniggered at him. “The Council
of
Wizards
yer say? A young lad like you? You is barely what –
twenty
years
old?”

Matthias leaned forward. “Let us just say, my
friend, that I look
good
for my age.” He smiled knowingly.

The
eye snorted. After a pause, the voice continued, the man’s rough
tones muffled by the wood. “So you ‘ave come on important
business?”

“
I believe those
were
my words,” Matthias continued.

“
And you come knocking on an old
side
door?
Sneaking
round the back of
Rina like some peddler?”

“
Sneaking would imply that I have something
to
hide
,” Matthias said. “Do you accuse me of
lying?
” he asked back.

The
eye appeared unnerved a moment. But then its owner regained their
confidence. “You ‘ave papers?”

Matthias shook his head. “No papers, my friend.”

“
What, you ain’t got
nothin’?
” the eye asked.

“
Identities can be forged with the possession of
nothing more than a quill and some ink. What
point
would my showing you a piece
of
parchment
do?” Matthias queried.

“
So ... you ‘ave no identity. No escort. No
proof
of who you say yer
are? You is ‘aving a bloody
laugh
, you are. Tell me, what is it you is
really
doing ‘ere?
C’mon,
out
with it! I can spot a phony when I sees one.” The beady eye
squinted at him through the peephole.

Matthias rolled his eyes. This would be harder
than he thought. “I’m telling you the truth,” he replied curtly,
outstretching his arms in protest. Then, clicking his fingers, he
clutched to the pendant around his neck between finger and thumb,
and waggled it at the hole. “Look. Surely you recognize the meaning
of
this
symbol?”

The
eye continued to stare, blinking quickly, moving up and down, and
studying him.

Matthias frowned at the man’s apparent inactivity, and he let
go of the pendant with a flourish of his hand. He picked up his
staff from where he had stuck it in the ground, and leaned forward
towards the peephole, allowing the brace to bear his
weight.

“
Well?
” he probed. “
Do
you recognise it?”

“
I
know
what it is! I ain’t
stupid!
You could’ve
nicked
that!”

Matthias smiled confidently. “
Not
possible.”

The
eye narrowed again and continued to stare, as if waiting for
further proof.

Matthias raised his brow as he continued to stare
down the eye. “I could
force
the door open, you know, with a flick of my
wrist.”

The eye sniffed. “Then why
don’t
you?”

“
That would be... How do you say?
Overkill?
And hardly
polite
when on
business.”

“
Well, it’s the only way yer getting’ in ‘ere,” the
eye said. “Cos’ I ain’t letting a scoundrel like you in
any
other way!” The eye
scoffed, and narrowed.

Matthias sighed. “You enjoy your job, don’t you?”

“
It
has its moments.” The man seemed pleased.

Matthias shook his head. “You know my friend, I
always thought Rina
welcomed
travellers with open arms. But from the treatment I have
received here today, it seems I was
wrong
.” He clapped his hands together, and spun his
staff around in the air dramatically. “Very well. I suppose I will
have to make my way to one of the other gates then.” He sighed. “It
is a shame though. That is, it’s a shame for
you
.” He turned to go, picking up and
slinging his tattered bag across his shoulder.

The
eye squinted. “Why’s that then?” the man asked with more than just
a hint of curiosity in his disembodied voice.

Matthias turned his head to look back at the
peephole. “I would have richly
rewarded
you if you
had
let me in. I’m here on
very
important business, and I’ve been given a
great wealth from my people to make sure I am tended to properly.
Ah, it’s no matter,” he said, and waved the eye away with a hand.
“I’m sure someone at one of the other gates will be able to help
me.” Matthias shifted his coat and began walking away from the
door.

The eye seemed to contemplate this for a moment.
“
Richly
rewarded?” it said. It seemed to move closer toward the
peephole, as if the person behind the door were leaning heavily in
to the door. It practically
bulged
out of the wood.

Matthias nodded, and was met with yet more silence. The eye
took in the cut of Matthias’ clothing, seemed to notice the fine
gold embroidery on his coat for the first time, the fine linen of
his shirt and then, at last, made its decision.