A Darkness Unleashed (Book 2) Page 12

  With the full strength of his power summoned, Tallen opened his eyes.

  A great spurt of flame erupted from the first granary. Three more burst from the rounded roofs of its neighbors, the fires spreading with ferocious speed. Huge chunks of burning wood and sprays of incinerating grain flew through the air, crashing into nearby buildings. Another blast ripped along the pinnacle of the Mayor’s former residence, tearing through the orcs who had claimed it as their own. More of them ran screaming, their clothes, armor, hair, and bodies aflame.

  Tallen forced himself to breathe as the Fire Aspect rushed through him. Dorias pulled further, and a great funnel of flame shot down the main street of Kirath, catching hundreds of feasting orcs in its path. The low wooden structures of the city kindled instantly, and the fires spread from roof to close-built roof.

  A tight sensation unfurled across Tallen’s forehead, as if his skin were being stretched over his skull. A lump caught in his throat, and he began to gasp for air. Still the Fire flowed through him and into the city.

  Cinders spread as the heat created its own wind. Side streets and warehouses caught afire. The rare trees scattered throughout the city began to blaze. The few wagons left behind, and those brought by the orc army, burst with flashes of orange and red. Near the center of the city, close to the conflagration of the old Mayor’s keep, a giant tornado of spinning flame formed, pulling in air from the fields and ridges surrounding Kirath.

  A cold breeze lifted Tallen’s cloak. He could not feel it except as an abstract thought. The world around him grew distant. His hands became those of a stranger. The ground, covered in scant white snow, swelled in his vision, and his view of the city faded to a hellish mix of gold, black, and scarlet. He realized he had fallen to one knee. Across the deluge of his flowing power, he felt Joslyn’s Fire cut off. The Battlemage collapsed to the ground.

  “Dorias!” Tomas Harte shouted from a vast distance. “It is done. You must let go!”

  The pull on Tallen’s Fire Aspect halted, and he dropped to his elbows. Sensation flooded back to him, and a warm trickle ran down his upper lip. A single crimson drop fell, splattering onto the snow dusted on prairie grass. He wiped the blood away, smearing it into his leather riding glove.

  Suddenly Tomas Harte stood beside him, helping him to his feet. His dazed thoughts began to clear as he felt the paladin’s healing power wash over his body.

  Dorias stepped closer, his own face less focused than usual. “I am sorry, lad. Here…” He handed Tallen the silver flask from his coat pocket. “This will help.”

  The long swig eased the tension in Tallen’s head and drove away some of the numbness. He passed it back, and Dorias took a good pull himself.

  “Thanks,” Tallen said when he caught his breath. “You still have to teach me that recipe.”

  The wizard offered the flask to Joslyn Britt, who stood a little unsteady. The Battlemage took the liquor with a grateful nod.

  Tallen watched the city burn in the distance. The flames had faded somewhat since Dorias withdrew their power. The faint screams of burning orcs floated on the invigorated wind, along with the fetid odor of burning flesh and leather. Only a few scattered stragglers ran westward from the holocaust of fiery death.

  The grave expression on Tomas Harte’s face matched his tone. “This was a black act here, today – a great destruction of life. I only hope it was necessary.”

  Gwelan Whitehand sheathed his curved swords and jumped lithely into his saddle. “It will be worth it when we don’t have twenty thousand orcs swarming down on our five thousand cavalry just a few miles from here.” He looked to the paladin. “While we might share your opinion on the taking of life…” He pointed toward the crumbling conflagration behind him. “…they do not.”

  The conflict showing plain on his face, Tomas mounted Fireheart. “True enough, but eventually someone has to break the cycle.”

  The paladin’s words echoed in Tallen’s ear as he mounted Stew. His shaky legs struggled to swing his body into the saddle. Joslyn Britt gave him a soft salute from the back of his sorrel mare before reining the horse around to follow Gwelan. The Battlemage doesn’t seem so intimidating now that I know the limits of his power. Now that I know better the limits of mine.

  “I kneel before the Balance, and trust my life and that of my heirs to maintain it.” – King Aradrac the Pious at his coronation in 288 A.R., the first king crowned by a High Elder of the Temple of Balance

  Maddi ran her finger along fresh cut stone. A fine, white dust gathered before the brisk winter wind carried it away.

  “I’m amazed it has progressed so fast,” Captain Ranier called through the scarf wrapped around his face. “Normally I would never take on such a project in the middle of winter, at least not as far north as Gavanor. But the soil is not frozen too hard, and the bedrock is near the surface this close to Malador’s Stone. Plus, with all the refugees, we have no shortage of affordable labor.” He waved at the central building, which already rose to near four times Maddi’s height. “Another day, and we’ll be putting the roof on.”

  She looked at the Bluecloak captain, the central fear of her recent thoughts bubbling to the surface. “I’ve heard the duke’s soldiers have secured Novon, and they will stay there until the king comes west with his army.” Trying not to sound too desperate, Maddi forced a casual tone. “Is that what you’ve heard, too?”

  Ranier gave her a half smile. “From the reports I’ve read, yes. Most of the advance force is holding at Novon. There are strong walls there, the strongest between here and Highspur.”

  Mention of the fallen fortress provided Maddi no reassurance. I hope Tallen and the others are alright. I’m going to kill him if he isn’t.

  Hundreds now scurried about the site, and Maddi helped Captain Ranier direct his men working on all four major buildings at once. In front of her rose the main sick house, three stories of beds for those in recuperation and nearly ready for its roof. The treatment building, where the sick would first arrive at the hospital and where the healers would do most of their work, was complete save for its interior. The mess and kitchens progressed nicely, if somewhat behind the rest of the project. The chapel, however, only had its foundation in place. A few men worked on its lowest steps, but Maddi had everyone else engaged elsewhere.

  “Only a few more weeks…” she whispered, almost to herself.

  Down where the hospital road met the one passing through Statuary Park, a commotion drew Maddi’s attention. A small crowd had gathered around a few figures in black and white. They stared at the eldest, who stood on an upturned crate, supported by several rough-featured acolytes.

  The momentary buoyancy of her heart sank. “Oh, no.”

  Ranier stalked toward the prior’s makeshift pulpit. “We’d better find out what he’s up to.”

  Maddi hesitated before jogging to catch up with the captain. A few workmen and a subordinate officer watched, but most remained intent on their construction work.

  The prior’s words carried on the wind, at first muddled by distance, but clearing as Maddi came closer. “…because it is the hope of these pagans to buy out our faith with their corrupt magic.” The prior waved his hands in the air. “Now, when we, the children of the Balance, should follow ever more closely the teachings of its Temple, the mistaken pagan ways should be stamped out, not revived!” The pitch and timbre of his voice lowered, from angry preacher to caring teacher. “We must remember, it is the magic of these sacrilegious Aspects that has led us to this dark pass. Mixing with the other races and using their foul powers.”

  Maddi watched the crowd swell, many of the faces rapt with attention.

  Prior Edwyn waved his white hand into the distance. “It has drawn the savage eye of the North, which has ever lusted for the magic of wizards and elves. We who are the children of the Balance must adhere to its lessons. We have swung too far to the ways of Chao
s.” The prior shrugged his shoulders and reached out to the crowd in a pleading fashion. “What better personifies Chaos than the foul magics of the elves? What better typifies Chaos than the mixing of the races found in the Free Cities and at Highspur?”

  Maddi snorted, and one man at the back of the crowd gave her a sharp scowl. Ranier only watched the prior, the furrow in his brow deepening as the priest went on.

  “Highspur!” The prior lifted his hands above his head, as if pleading with the sky. The ferocity of his shout caused more people to stop and listen. “The place where we mixed with elves, dwarves and southrons has been destroyed – left a ruined, smoking hulk. The miscegenized garrison is dead, bodies desecrated in their final moments.” The priest built his voice again, waving his hands westward. “The Free Cities have lived uncounted, unclean centuries, elves, dwarves, and humans in the very same communities – breeding with each other. And now look what has happened to these pagans, these element worshipers. The enemy of all has come down from the north and laid them waste! The foulest, most evil of creatures, the orcs, have burned them out and slaughtered them.”

  Thoughts of Tallen’s brother at Highspur lifted the rage in Maddi’s heart. She clenched her fists, but let the priest continue.

  Edwyn waved his hands in a circular motion, his dirty fingernails encompassing the city around him. “And now these haggard wretches have come to us for help. We who follow the holy Balance and know the truth of its ways are now required to save them. We are told that we shall muster our armies and send off our brethren to die to protect their lands!”

  Maddi’s natural revulsion to the man’s speech could not produce the words to properly argue. Stuttering anger threatened to be her only response.

  Ranier, whose face had remained still as stone throughout, seemed to have no such problems. “Here now, Prior Edwyn, that will be enough of that kind of talk. Save it for Temple Day and your own priory.” He looked around to see a few soldiers in green and blue near the crowd. “These men know they fight for their homelands. If the Free Cities fall, we know where the orcs come next. Better to fight them there than here.”

  The prior puffed up his thin chest. Rage played along his tight lips, showing his brown teeth. “You, sir, are not of Gavanor. You come from the pagan deep south. You know nothing of the true faith, a faith in the Balance.” He waggled an admonishing finger at the crowd. “And it is up to us to work toward that Balance. It does not solely maintain itself. It is up to us, its children and its creation, through the guidance of the Temple, to drive it toward harmony and stability.”

  Maddi at last found words. “I grew up in Dern, Prior Edwyn, a small town not too far from here. Only a few thousand folk live there, maybe a couple hundred who could fight.” She gestured toward at the crowded city spread around them. “We know we would be easy pickings for any invaders if it weren’t for the might of Gavanor. A thousand orcs could burn that city to the ground in a few hours. From stories, it took quite a few more than that to burn Highspur, and no doubt they are now on their way.”

  A murmur ran through the gathered crowd. Ranier nodded encouragement, but that did little to still the quivering in her legs as everyone focused on her.

  Taking a deep breath first, Maddi gestured to the crowd. “How many of you have family who once lived in the Free Cities, or who still do? A mother from Yames. A cousin in Novon.” She pointed at one of the workmen who had stopped to listen. “Jarin, I know your dad is a Derner. You told me so yourself.”

  The mason knuckled his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Ha!” Prior Edwyn shouted, stomping one foot to draw the crowd’s attention. “Listen not to the words of that witch, people of faith.” He put one hand on the shoulder of an acolyte to boost himself upright over the crowd. “She is the pagan who dares to call herself Lifegiver in the east. Now…” He made a jesting face. “…we all know how taken to fashion and dalliance those back east can be…” A small chuckle rustled the gathering. “…but we of the Western Realm are more steadfast. We would never participate in such sacrilege. We have more respect for the role that the Temple of Balance has played in spreading true healing, both physical and spiritual, among the people.”

  A rumble of agreement coursed through the crowd. Some bobbed their heads, while others watched Maddi with more skepticism. Apprehension crawled up her spine, and a sudden urge to run almost overwhelmed her. She might have taken a half step back, had Captain Ranier’s solid form not stood behind her.

  “Here, now,” the Bluecloak engineer shouted. “That will be enough, Prior. This woman has worked her fingers flat to build a place to heal the people of this very city. She did heal hundreds and more in Daynon.” He thumbed toward a group of soldiers gathered near the edge of the crowd. “You will stop insulting this woman, and stop agitating the people of this city, or I will see you escorted back to your priory.”

  “Witness!” The prior swung his hand in the Captain’s direction. “Even the soldiers of the king threaten the priests of your Temple if we disagree with their warmongering, their … crusades for power.”

  “Enough!” The captain signaled the nearby soldiers. Both Bluecloaks and Gavanor watchmen in green closed in toward the prior. “Disparaging the king’s soldiers in time of war is against the law. We’ll have you arrested if you do not return to your priory, sir.”

  The crowd rustled. A few shouted out against the soldiers. One or two gave them support. A child began to cry, while a group of women scurried toward the city streets. The soldiers merged into a cluster, warily assessing the group of acolytes, each carrying a staff or cudgel.

  The prior’s eyes darted between his men and the soldiers. Maddi knew the acolytes were out-numbered, and the soldiers had far deadlier weapons. But does the prior?

  “Fellows, please, I feel no insult.” She held her hands out as she walked into the space the crowd had cleared between the soldiers and the prior’s men. “There is no need to come to blows, nor any need for arrests. This is to be a place of healing and peace. I do not want violence to mar its beginning.”

  Captain Ranier held his hand up and the soldiers stopped, their fingers brushing their weapons. The acolytes bristled and gathered closer to the prior. The old priest gripped the Balance sigil hanging on black and white beads from his skinny neck. The fraction of the crowd that had not fled with good sense stood rooted to the nearby ground.

  Between the two groups of armed men, Maddi held her breath. Time slowed and her heart beat a steady throb in her ears. The fear that had gripped her a few moments ago disappeared, and a numb silence settled on her emotions. She touched her Talent. A soft radiation of psahn emanated from her being, washing over the prior and his men, along with Ranier and his guards. Her own wish for calm flowed through her Talent, and the sharp expressions on the men’s faces eased. Fingers left hilts, and hands relaxed grips. At last Maddi breathed and let go of her Talent.

  The prior blinked. “This is not worth a fight, not now. The duke is gone from the city at the moment, but we shall see what happens when King Arathan arrives.” He gathered his robes about his thin frame and stepped down from the box. “His Majesty is a true adherent of the Balance.”

  With that, Prior Edwyn left, sweeping his acolytes about him.

  Maddi stood with her hands clasped at her side. None seemed to notice her touching her Talent. A sudden chill of both fear and excitement ripped through her. What did I just do?!

  The prior led his men away, along with a few members of the crowd most supportive of the Temple. Most of the remainder just melted into the city. Ranier dismissed the guards, though two pairs of Bluecloaks wandered blatantly through the grounds, commenting on all the amazing progress.

  “Thank you,” Maddi whispered to the captain.

  “No.” He lifted his brows in relief. “Thank you. I did not want to be the first Bluecloak to arrest a prior in two centuries. Besides, my wife is an adher
ent of the Balance, and I would have heard no end of it.” His thick, ruddy brows drew down again. “Still, those words verged on treason. I have to report this up my chain of command.”

  “Do what you must, Captain.” Maddi shaded her vision from the setting sun. “I am going home for the day. See that your men do, too.” She watched the Bluecloaks strolling through the site. “Except, perhaps, your security.”

  Maddi pulled her hood and cloak tight against the evening chill before moving into the crowded streets of Gavanor. Slipping her way along back avenues and through thick crowds, she soon lost any followers. Strange how the skills from my first life can help in what looks to be my second, but no one can know where Tanya lives.

  Down a small path between brownstone townhouses, a small gate led Maddi into her long untended garden. The roseworts and chickory she had planted last spring lay chocked by creepers and winter-dried dandelions. And I’ll have no time to care for it this spring either. Renna would be so disappointed.

  She unlocked the back door to their unobtrusive home. Within moments, Tanya came bursting from the kitchen into the rear storeroom, her hands waving a large piece of embossed parchment.

  “It’s for you, Maddi!” The girl pressed it into her hands. “Is it from Tallen? Ami doesn’t think so, but I do. He hasn’t written since he left. He always writes.”

  Maddi pursed her lips. “He only wrote that once, and he’s busy with the army no doubt.” She felt a pang in her heart. I hope.

  The letter was printed on fine linen, by a hand she knew was not Tallen’s. The emerald wax stamped with the insignia of a stone wall gave quick clue as from whence it had come. She broke the seal it with a heavy sigh.

  Lady Maddrena Conaleon,

  Your presence is requested at the Citadel of Gavanor on the third High Day of Winterwane to join House Varlan in welcoming His Majesty, King Arathan VII, and the grand army of the East. All of Gavanor shall be overjoyed.