Bringers of Doom Read online

  Conscription has been outlawed for years, which means mages cannot simply order people to surrender their wares. However, on foot it would still take me an hour to make it to the Conclave. I simply do not have the time to waste. That leaves me with only one option.

  I have to steal a horse.

  Creeping silently over to the door to the stables, I find that it is locked with a heavy lock of solid brass. Inside it is dark, but I can hear the gentle braying of horses inside.

  Looking around to make sure that I am not being watched, I grasp my newly-acquired source crystal and begin to channel, gathering a pinprick of energy into my fingertip. I angle the lock so I am pointing directly at the keyhole, then speak softly the words for magefyre, using my body to shield the light.

  A small tendril of flames shoots into the lock, sputtering and hissing as it melts the tumblers inside. Acrid smoke rises up to my nostrils, but soon the lock is loose and I am able to pull it off the door.

  I toss the useless hunk of metal to the cobblestones and pull open the door to the stables, wincing as the hinges creak.

  The stable man inside does not seem to notice the sound.

  Once inside, I approach the first horse I see: a dark-colored animal chewing hay in one of the first stalls. I then open the door and step inside.

  "Easy, girl," I say quietly as I slowly approach it from the side. In truth I do not know if the horse is male or female, the phrase is just something I had heard Owyn once say. "Easy, girl," I say again, reaching out a trembling hand and patting the horse's side. I'm not sure why I am suddenly so nervous. I had ridden plenty of horses while staying at Forest Hill. Perhaps it was a combination of things – including the fact that I have never stolen anything before in my life.

  The horse nickers at me, shaking its head and blowing air out of its nose with a puff. I let out a squeak of alarm, then silently berate myself for being so jumpy. A quick look out of the stall reveals that the stable man has not heard me.

  This stupid beast better not bite me, I think as I inch my way closer, timidly petting its mane and getting to a position to climb on top of it.

  There is no saddle on the horse, which means I will be forced to ride bare-back. I had managed the feat once in the Emberwood, but it was not particularly comfortable. I do not look forward to doing it again.

  Using the edge of the stall as a support, I push myself up onto the horse's back, settling in without much trouble. The horse does not seem fazed.

  I let out a nervous breath I did not know I had been holding.

  "Okay, girl," I whisper, grabbing onto its mane with my fingers and gently kicking it with my heels. "Let's go."

  The horse obeys, clopping out of the stall and beginning to make its way toward the open stable door before us. I did it! I think, actually smiling. What an odd thing to be excited about. I actually managed to steal a horse!

  "Hey!" Shouts a voice to my side. I look over to see the stable man stepping out of his house, his expression irate. "Get off of there!"

  "Hells," I curse, kicking the horse harder, trying to get it to go faster. It whinnies and bolts, shooting out of the stable and into the night with a burst of speed, forcing me to wrap my arms around its neck to avoid falling off.

  "Help!" The man shouts, attempting to run after us. "Thief!"

  I look back, hair whipping around my face. "Sorry!" I shout at him, hoping that he can hear the sincerity in my voice.

  He shakes a fist at me and slowly fades into the darkness as I ride away.

  Poor man, I think as I turn back, guiding the horse with my legs and turning onto a larger street. He has no idea how important my mission is. I fully intend on repaying him once this is all over.

  The clopping sound of hooves on stone echoes around as I ride through the city, mixed with the sound of the wind roaring in my ears. I push the animal to a near gallop, racing through the darkened streets as I race to the Conclave in the center of the city. Blessedly, I make much better time than I would have on foot.

  Aside from a few bystanders and clumps of watchmen, I see no one on my ride. The path is virtually clear all the way to the gates of the great towers.

  I race up to the guards and quickly dismount, only barely noticing the pain in my legs from riding bare-back. They regard me uncertainly, not sure what to make of my frantic demeanor and haggard appearance. I channel a little source energy and flash them the entry symbol, hardly breaking stride as I walk past them. In passing, I tell them to look after the horse until I return.

  I do not stop to listen to their protests.

  Even at this late hour, the courtyard outside the Pillar of Radiance is alive with activity. Pairs of mages hurry between towers, while others sit on benches, reading scrolls by the light of the many magefyre lamps dotting the paths.

  I pick up my pace, jogging past these people and running directly for the Pillar of Radiance. Nobody stops me as I rush through the grand double doors and find the lift that will take me to the High Magus' personal rooms. Nobody, that is, until I come face to face with the mage standing guard outside of the lift.

  "Name?" The man asks, his short beard coming to a point beneath his angular face.

  "Zara Dennel," I reply breathlessly, coming to a stop before him.

  His face twists up in a look of distaste as he looks up from his slate and takes in my appearance. "I'm sorry, Magus, but you are not on the list of approved guests. We have a strict rule that no uninvited mages are allowed on this level."

  "I'm going up there," I reply impatiently. "One way or another."

  The hawkish man looks unimpressed. "I'm afraid that your request is quite impossible. Come back tomorrow after you have received written permission from the Circle."

  "Look," I exclaim, exasperated. "There is a very real threat on High Magus Holdyn's life. Someone is going to have her killed tonight, and I refuse to let that happen. So, unless you are prepared to strike me down with magic, you will get out of my way. Now." By this point I am standing face to face with the mage, having strode up to him, bringing my face just a few inches from his.

  The man visibly pales, and after a moment nods, stepping out of my way. "Very well, then," he mutters, casting his eyes downward.

  "Thank you," I reply, still glaring at him. "Now go and notify the guards."

  I place my hand on the column and channel, pushing radiant magic into the stone and willing the doors to open. Once inside, the blue platform forms beneath my feet and begins propelling me upward, taking me to a level somewhere near the top.

  During the ride I find myself clutching my talisman tightly, my palms already beginning to sweat. There's no telling what I might find up there.

  I only hope that I am not too late.

  The doors open, revealing a darkened floor of offices void of any mages. It almost seems abandoned, save for the immaculate cleanliness of the place.

  I begin making my way down the hallway, passing empty offices and windows offering a dazzling view of the city. My head swivels back and forth, ears straining to pick up any sound at all aside from the noise my own footsteps are making.

  Nothing at all seems out of place.

  Ahead I can see the High Magus' office, which I know are connected to her own personal chambers. The nature of her calling requires her to be close to the Heart of Light almost all of the time, making the location necessary for her.

  Lights glow from within, but something feels out of place.

  The door is standing slightly ajar.

  I begin to sprint, dashing through the hall as I make my way to her office chamber, my pulse quickening as I go. I pull up short, however, to open the door, not wanting to burst inside and alert the assassin to my presence.

  I creep inside with all of the stealth that I can muster.

  Her office, like the rest of the floor, is empty, save from her desk and a stand containing dozens of books. A wide window looks out over Tarsys on the far wall, its winking lights brightening the room from far below. To th
e side I can see another door, this one also standing ajar. Inside I can faintly hear a woman humming.

  It sounds like the High Magus.

  I dash across the room and open this door as well, finding myself in what looks like a sitting room, replete with luxurious couches and artful tapestries. There is a hall leading deeper into the apartments, and at the end I can see a room well-lit with candlelight, its door standing halfway open.

  The humming is coming from within.

  Walking quickly but cautiously, I approach this room and peer inside, ready to channel at a moment's notice.

  It appears to be a bed chamber, cozily furnished and containing a plush-looking canopy bed with thick blankets. There is another window to the right, wide and stretching from the floor to the ceiling, looking out over the city. A large desk sits up against the far wall, covered with papers, open books and scrolls, and sitting at the desk is Sylvania Holdyn, hunched over and writing something with a quill. She is in her nightgown, feet bare on the cold stone floor, and she appears to be deep in thought as she writes, the tune she is humming a hymn from the Radiant Church. She looks surprisingly frail sitting there, her wispy hair cropped short and her body thin beneath her gown.

  For a moment, I breathe a little easier, overjoyed that I arrived before any harm could have befallen her. But then, my breath catches in my throat.

  On the far side of the room, a shadow materializes from out of a darkened corner. A shadow in a mask, carrying a gleaming silver dagger.

  Oh, Light! I think to myself. The assassin is here!

  "Look out!" I blurt aloud, pushing the door all the way open and channeling source energy through my talisman.

  Sylvania twists in her chair, eyes wide as she looks first at me, then at the man standing behind her with his knife brandished.

  Cursing, the assassin lunges at her, clearing the distance between them in a fraction of a second, his blade held high. Sylvania cowers where she sits, with no way to defend herself from the attack. In a last-ditch effort to save her, I throw my hand out in front of me and shout the words, "Ceangal draíochta," just as the blade is about to slash her throat.

  The man is thrown back against the wall, a wave of blue radiance crashing into him with the force of a thunderbolt. He gasps as he collides with the wall, his dagger falling from his grasp and clattering to the floor.

  Sylvania nearly falls from her chair in the commotion.

  Stepping inside the room, I close the door behind me and turn to regard the two of them, my heart beating so fast that I fear it will burst from my chest.

  The man, struggling to find his breath, looks over at me from beneath his mask, hatred burning intensely in his eyes.

  "You are now in the custody of the Conclave," I say more bravely than I feel. I begin pulling in more source energy, preparing myself for another spell. "You're going to tell us everything you know about the Harbingers. Then, you will be judged by the Light."

  The assassin stares at me for a moment, trapped against the wall as I block his only exit. I can see his eyes dart to the glowing source crystal in my hand. Then, he shakes his head, chuckling softly to himself in a way that chills my blood.

  "No," he gasps, voice muffled by the mask. "No, the Conclave has no claim over my soul. I will not be your slave. Long live the Chosen, the true followers of the Light!"

  Then, before I can cast my spell, he jumps to his feet and runs – not at me or Sylvania, but at the window, driving his shoulder into it at full speed.

  The glass shatters with a loud crack, sending the man plummeting out into the night without so much as a scream. A gust of wind blows into the room as the window breaks, blowing out many of the candles and filling the chamber with freezing cold air from outside.

  I instantly run up to the lip of the broken window, leaning out as much as I dare to catch a glimpse of the assassin, though I cannot see him in the darkness. We are easily hundreds of feet above the ground.

  There is no way he can survive a fall from that height.

  Backing away, I turn to see the High Magus gaping at me from her desk, a look of shock painted plainly upon her aged face.

  "What, in the name of the Light, was that?"

  I gesture vaguely at the window, the energy created by the tense situation receding and being replaced by crushing fatigue. "That was an assassin sent by the Harbingers to kill you."

  She looks at me for a long moment, clearly trying to process the information. "And how, might I ask, did you know that he was going to be here?"

  I hesitate before responding. "Because I was told that someone was going to try and murder you tonight." I begin telling her everything, from my research in the library to my discovery of the strange symbols in the crypts. I explain about my eavesdropping on the secret Harbinger meeting, and my capture by the cultists and ultimately my escape, going over in great detail my encounter with the prophet. The more I talk the faster the words gush out of me, as if they have been waiting to be released.

  When I am finished take a deep breath, feeling relieved to finally have everything off my chest.

  Sylvania is quiet for a long moment after I finish my story, her face a contemplative mask revealing nothing.

  Finally, when I am beginning to feel nervous because of her prolonged silence, she opens her mouth to speak. "I took you into my confidence by showing you Magister Halle's murder, Magus. Then I explicitly forbade you from looking into the matter, swearing you to silence and telling you to forget what you saw." Her eyes become hard as she speaks, and I find myself shrinking before her gaze. "You disobeyed direct orders, put yourself in mortal danger, and nearly compromised the safety of every mage in the Conclave by going after these madmen."

  She pauses, her expression softening as she regards me. Then she lets out a sigh. "And... you saved my life."

  I look up at her, confused by her sudden change of tone. "High Magus?"

  "Your actions, while brash and foolhardy, have exposed our enemies for who they truly are, and will no doubt help the Conclave persevere throughout these dangerous times. I am in your debt, Zara Dennel."

  "So... you're not mad?"

  "Oh, I'm furious," she replies, though her lips turn up in a knowing smile. "But I am also surprised at the amount of progress you were able to make on your investigation. It would seem that our decision to raise you to become a full mage was not ill-conceived."

  Despite everything, I can feel my chest swell with pride at her words. Receiving praise from the High Magus is almost enough to make me forget about how exhausted I feel.

  Almost.

  "Come, Magus," Sylvania says after a moment, standing up from her chair and gesturing for me to follow her. "Get away from that window. Let's get you back to your chambers to rest. Light only knows that you have earned it. In the morning, we will meet with the Circle to decide what our next steps should be."

  I step away from the broken window and follow her into apartments, feeling almost like I am gliding across the floor. I listen with only half an ear as the High Magus continues to talk, musing about how fortuitous it was for me to arrive when I did. My mind wanders elsewhere, thinking about the prophet and the Harbingers that I know are still out there. It is difficult for me to relax, even though the immediate threat is over.

  I have a feeling that there is still much more work to be done.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Owyn

  "Eleven Hells!" Talon curses as the two rangers caught in the conflagration fall to the earth, their flesh popping and sizzling.

  Their screams choke off in a matter of seconds, the green flames consuming them.

  "The men are under attack!" Carr exclaims, striding up to the flickering wall of fire as if trying to find a way through. "We have to help them!"

  "There's nothing we can do for them now," Tamara says, pointing at the tunnel behind us. "They're going to have to fend for themselves. The only path for us now is forward."

  "She's right," I agree, tightening my grip
on my hatchet. "The only way we can help them is by slaying the demon behind all of this. If we kill it, the spell will be broken and the way should become clear once again."

  Carr grunts in disapproval but backs away, turning to face the darkness of the cave.

  As a group, the four of us begin making our way deeper into the tunnel, feeling our way by reaching out our hands and touching the rough stone walls on either side. The further away we walk from the wall of fire, the harder it becomes to see, and soon, we find ourselves in complete and utter darkness.

  Light, I think as I stumble over a loose rock on the ground. I can't see anything down here!

  I silently begin to pray that nothing comes and devours us while we are helplessly lost in the blackness.

  The path takes a few twists and turns as we delve deeper into the hill, but it isn't long before we start to see a faint light emanating from the cave ahead of us.

  "Do you see that?" Carr whispers, his voice echoing off the close stone walls. "It looks like torch light!"

  "Be on your guard," Tamara hisses in reply.

  We continue moving forward.

  As we draw closer to the light, the tunnel begins to widen, eventually opening up into a wide cavern lit by small wooden fires smoldering on the rocky ground. The smoke rises up to the ceiling high above, where it escapes through fissures in the rock, interspersed between dripping stalactites.

  In the center of the great cavern is a mound of rock, bulging from the ground and surrounded on one side by a pool of still, dark water. On top of the mound, sitting on a throne that appears to be carved from solid stone, sits a creature that causes my stomach to twist into a knot. It has mottled green skin, the color of spoiled meat, pulled tight over knotted muscles. It wears a strange uniform of black fabric studded with spikes, and a pair of twisting horns protrude from its forehead, adorning its head like a twisting crown.

  A gorgon.

  Sitting near its feet is a pair of darkhounds, snarling with feral intensity and regarding us with glowing red eyes. Even from here I can see that their fangs are bared.