The Conquest of Kiynan

Kayla watched as Chyryl and two Sorcerers who had ridden from Castle Malice with them walked ankle-deep into Gloom Bay. They bent over to place their hands in the water. Kayla studied them carefully as their expressions contorted into masks of seething hatred. As she watched, she saw the water around the hands of the magicians begin to freeze. The ice spread quickly through the water, but in a deliberate pattern. Beneath the surface, Kayla could make out the shape of a ship forming. After a few minutes, the three magicians let out a deep, exhausted breath as they straightened. The icy shape floated quickly to the surface, splashing a great volume of water out of its way. Kayla stared in delight at the long boat, sparkling in the weak sunlight that filtered through the pale mist drifting languorously across the water. Kayla’s companions and the soldiers that had escorted them from Castle Malice immediately began carrying provisions aboard the ship.

When the provisions were all loaded, the escort wasted no time in mounting up, and heading back to the relative safety of House Spite’s stronghold. The ten companions climbed aboard the boat. Kayla looked up at the single mast rising from the ship, wondering why it had been created, as they had no sail and moreover, little wind disturbed the mist. Just then, Travis faced the mast and appeared as though he had just won the jousting event at Haven’s annual tournament. Kayla caught a faint, ethereal shimmer in the shape of a wide rectangular sail around the mast. She smiled knowingly as she observed Travis’ expression change, making him seem as though he had just amazed himself with his own powers. Kayla felt a gentle breeze, quickly growing in strength, blowing out from the shore. The ship began to drift slowly, and evenly gather speed. Kayla clapped her hands with gleeful admiration, eliciting a brief self-contented smirk from the Wizard, and a derisive snort from Marax.

“I cannot wait to be able to wield magic! It’s so amazing what you can do!” she said, speaking to her group in general.

“All candidates begin their training with that attitude, but once they discover how hard they must train to even begin to unlock their powers, many lose interest,” reflected Marax. “Even some of those that do become magicians never master their art. The wrong emotions cloud their minds, and their powers remain forever limited, mediocre.” At this, Omil glanced up at the Warlock as though he were being accused of something. “How quickly one comprehends magic is not the true measure of potential, but rather how completely one comprehends. Even then, mastery of magic is not always sufficient,” Marax paused in thought for a moment. “There are situations where one must rely on other abilities, other knowledge. Keen judgement is crucial. Take Master Vanga for instance. A powerful magician he was; one of the mightiest warriors to have ever lived, perhaps one of the greatest Warlocks to have ever walked the face of Ornland. Nonetheless, he was defeated in battle. I saw him die. He should have fled instead of trying to oppose Daimin single-handedly. House Fury could not hope to stand alone against all of Daimin’s might. He should have heeded the Necromancer’s advice. But the Blood Fort had never fallen to any aggressor. It was the oldest standing citadel any of the Houses had built. Vanga let his arrogance cloud his judgement, and he died along with far too many of my brothers and sisters.”

“Is the magic of House Fury the most powerful of all the Houses?” asked Kayla with a rush of sudden impertinence.

The other magicians snorted, and Chyryl laughed out loud at that. Marax, his expression neutral, merely looked around at the other magicians as he answered evenly.

“Some magicians are more powerful than others, that is certain, and usually not difficult to judge. How powerful one can become depends more on the individual than on the House. Which House wields the most powerful magic is an unresolved question, to put it delicately,” he smirked as he continued, “many people died in the wars after the fall of House Calm to find the answer. The truth is though, House Calm wielded the most powerful magic, and everyone knew it. The Blues held it over the heads of the other Houses; they held dominion because of it. Some speak of the Blues as tyrants, but I think the truth was that they were simply interested in keeping the peace. But humans have always been petty, and the leaders of the other Houses dreamt of raising themselves to hold dominion over all of Ornland. They all knew that they could never gain power while House Calm reigned, so they banded together to strike them down. No House has ever been sufficiently powerful to claim the unofficial throne the Augurs held, and until that throne is occupied, there will be no peace on Ornland.”

“Excuse us,” said Abron quietly, “we must speak with the spirits.”

The three Necromancers casually moved to the prow of the ship, away from the others. Dessa watched them intently, and when they kneeled down, apparently out of earshot and focused on their magic, she spoke up.

“Say what you will Marax, but we all know some Houses,” she nodded to the Necromancers, “are weaker than others. Too weak to fight, even in their own defence.”

“I once thought as you did, that choosing not to fight was nothing more than weakness or cowardice. Then a Warlock, far wiser than I, told me a tale from the days just after the fall of Skywall.” He turned to look into Kayla’s eyes, his face animated. “All of Ornland was in turmoil; the Houses fought for supremacy, constantly invading each other’s lands. One particular mighty Warlock brought six hundred loyal followers east to conquer the Greys’ lands, the first—and last—direct attack on House Despair. Well, before Daimin’s recent attack that is. They arrived at Lament, and found it deserted. They rejoiced and pillaged anything they thought of value, then took up residence, their leader claiming all the surrounding lands for House Fury. The details of what happened next are not known, for those that returned to the Blood Fort refused to speak of it. What is known though, is that not two days after occupying Lament, the Red soldiers quit it and left behind all that they had taken. All returned to the Blood Fort with no sign of injury, all that is, except the Warlock leader. What had become of him, none would say. The Greys were wise, they knew better than to fight the Warlock and his soldiers on his terms. They fought on their own terms, and won.”

Dessa shook her head, clearly unconvinced by Marax’s story.

“I am amazed to say it, but I agree with the Enchantress,” added Travis, “I do not know why House Despair felt it necessary to send three of their number, while the other Houses sent one. Not only do we have to defend our prodigy here, but we will all have to make an effort to look after them.”

“I trust their magic to protect us far more than yours, Wizard. They know the past. Their ghosts remember, as humans cannot. And knowledge of the past is the most effective way of guessing the future. The Greys have ever been the wisest of the magicians. It was they who watched Daimin when he exiled himself to Lethe, and summoned the other Houses to stop him. They warned that the destruction of Skywall would plunge Ornland into chaos. And of course, it was they who warned of Daimin’s return. Besides, their ghosts are the only means we have of communicating with our main force. Think what power that represents! Fast, reliable, impossible to intercept communication between Necromancers anywhere in the world.”

“Why was the Augurs’ magic so powerful?” asked Kayla.

“They could levitate themselves and objects around them, they could read people’s thoughts, and thereby instantly know whether or not they were lying and what they were planning. According to Abron, they could invade their enemies’ minds and fight. But above all, their power came from their ability to see the future. They knew what would occur if events continued along a certain path. Knowing that, they could take action to change the course of those events. As I said, the Greys can guess the future, and that is powerful enough. But the Blues knew the future.”

“Then why didn’t they foresee the destruction of Skywall?” posed the girl.

“Ah! The age old question!” smiled Marax, “No one can say for sure. Perhaps their magic failed them, perhaps some other force was at work and interfered with their powers, perhaps even knowing what would happen, there was nothing they could do. Or perhaps, they could see so far into the future, they decided it was best for them to fall in order to prevent the alternative, whatever that may have been.”

An uneasy silence fell over the group then, perturbed only by soft muttering between Omil and Chyryl. Kayla seated herself comfortably on the deck of the ship and closed her eyes, practicing clearing her emotions as Abron had taught her. She focused on her breathing, ridding her mind of all transient emotions, allowing only peace and serenity to remain. After some time of concentration, she began to hear Chyryl’s voice very clearly in her mind. She could hear Omil’s words as well, but not in his voice, it was as though she understood his words, but without hearing them. She realized then that she was not hearing Chyryl’s voice either, but her thoughts. Remaining perfectly serene, she probed through the Sorceress’ thoughts. She saw images of the farm where Chyryl spent her childhood with her parents, until one day, a band of soldiers wearing the red garb of House Fury raided their land. Kayla felt the memories as though they were her own. She smelled the burning wood as her home was put to the torch, and felt the pain as she watched her mother and father cut down by the merciless raiders. She remembered being rescued by a Sorcerer leading a band of soldiers in black. She was brought to Castle Malice, where she was placed among the candidates chosen for their magical potential. From the very first, Chyryl knew she was not the most gifted of her peers, but she was the most determined. She spent every waking moment practicing what she had been taught, and she had experience to fuel her hatred. Her teachers were dumbfounded as they dismissed more talented candidates in favour of Chyryl, for she had made far more progress than they. The day she had completed her training, Chyryl felt so proud, she worried it would affect her magic.

Kayla pulled back from her probing, seeking to hear only surface thoughts. Chyryl was clearly becoming very fond of Omil. She related to something in what he had told her about himself. Maintaining perfect calm, Kayla decided to test herself. She slid out of Chyryl’s mind and pushed toward Omil. She successfully penetrated his thoughts, and probed more deeply as she had with Chyryl.

Omil was the son of a wealthy trader, Kayla could remember, the eldest child. He stood to inherit all of his father’s wealth and prosperous trade. However, one day, a Druid came to his village, seeking candidates for her order. When she offered Omil a chance to learn magic, he was exuberant. Although it made his father furious, Omil accepted the Druid’s offer and was brought to the Bright Keep to begin his training. At first, his progress was excellent, and he easily passed the first round of tests. But then, his father became ill, and passed away. Omil was greatly saddened, especially as he had never patched his relationship with his father before his death. His sorrow seriously affected his progress, and he only barely passed the second round of tests. Most of the other students surpassed him. To make matters worse, Omil’s younger brother wrote to him, telling him how successful he had become after taking over the family business, and how much luxury he enjoyed. Envy filled Omil’s mind, and frustration at having traded a prosperous life away for one of mediocrity. He somehow managed to complete the training, but knew he would never become a great magician as he had envisioned.

Kayla moved into the upper regions of Omil’s mind, and realized he was no longer talking with Chyryl, but staring at Kayla. She saw an image of herself through his eyes, and struggling to remain calm and focused, she gave him a little wave of her hand. She felt shock and amazement ripple through his mind, and the humour of it became too much for Kayla to suppress. She opened her eyes with a smile to find all nine of her companions watching her intently. She suddenly realized she felt very tired, as though she had been riding along the beach and fields around Haven all day long, but she knew she had successfully performed magic, and that was worth any amount of fatigue.

“Perhaps it is time to teach you how to cast spells,” said Abron evenly, a small half smile touching his lips.

Kayla could not tell one day from another in the ever-present mist of Gloom Bay. Although Abron insisted very little time had passed, it seemed to Kayla that she had spent most of her life on that slow-moving boat, breathing moisture-saturated air. Abron told her of the emotions of House Calm, and the magic spells they drew from them. She practiced with all the concentration she could muster, sometimes successfully, sometimes not.

She spoke to the magicians as much as she could, trying to earn their trust and affection, as she knew she’d be relying on them to keep her alive all too soon. They all seemed responsive to her, except for Taul.

“Do you think you could remove your mask, just so I could see your face for a moment?” she had asked him politely.

“I only show my face to the dead, child,” he had replied, his tone deadly serious.

Kayla’s curiosity was piqued. Every time she looked at Taul, she couldn’t help but wonder what he was hiding. Why did he wear that bronze mask? Why wouldn’t he talk to her? Encouraged by the success she’d had reading Chyryl and Omil’s minds, she inevitably came to the decision of invading Taul’s mind to uncover his secret.

She seated herself comfortably and focused her mind once again. She let the calm envelop her and permeate her completely. When she was ready, she sought out Taul’s mind and gradually forced her way in. She felt a few surface thoughts focused on sharpening the axe Taul held in his hands, but she pushed past them immediately. She saw him then as a boy or a young man. She couldn’t see him clearly, but she decided that he was attractive. She seemed to think that he felt happy in this memory. Almost as soon as she had perceived this image of him, she heard and felt a piercing scream. It was not a scream of anger or hatred, but the emotion was overwhelmingly intense. Kayla felt herself beginning to lose her connection with Taul’s mind. She felt more than she saw the boy suddenly enveloped in flames. She felt the burning agony and she heard his screams of anguish. Her calm disappeared completely and she snapped her eyes open and gasped for breath, as the spectre of sizzling agony faded. She looked over at where Taul sat unperturbed, still methodically sharpening his axe. She panted for a moment, staring at him and reflecting on what she had seen could mean. Had he been burned in a fire? Had his home burned down? Had he set fire to something? As her mind raced, she saw Taul suddenly stop his steady movements and slowly turn toward her. She felt her eyes drawn through the mask into his cool grey eyes, and held her breath. She felt suddenly convinced that he knew what she’d done, and half expected him to charge her with the axe. After they held each other’s gaze for a moment, Taul silently turned back to his task. Kayla breathed her relief, feeling her heart pounding.

“Never again!” she scolded herself. “No more invading other people’s minds! Not for any reason! Never!”

She held to her promise, and boredom soon overtook her again. Finally, Abron had pointed into the mist and told her they were passing the Valley of Tears, and would soon be disembarking. Kayla squinted and tried as hard as she could to see anything through the mist, but could not.

They beached their ice boat and carried their provisions onto the shore, packed into backsacs.

“Which way?” asked Marax, peering into the fog.

“This way,” replied Abron with assurance, as he began walking at a brisk pace.

The fog thickened as they followed him inland. It did not take long before they were forced to stay very close together to avoid losing one another. In the distance, a pack of wolves howled, chilling Kayla to the bone. She huddled close to Thalamir, who patted her back reassuringly, but she could see his knuckles whitening around his quarterstaff.

Suddenly, there came a vicious snarl nearby, and the sound of a heavy beast bounding toward them. Thalamir shoved Kayla behind him, and grasped his staff with both hands, crouched into a fighting stance. Looking around frantically, Kayla could see only a vague outline of Thalamir, and nothing of anyone else. She heard Marax grunt, heard Chyryl shout, and saw a bright gout of orange flame. There was more snarling, coming from one direction, then another. Thalamir turned quickly from side to side, but it was clear he did not know what was happening either. She heard Marax shout, and then a sharp squeal of pain. Silence reigned for a few moments, until Kayla heard Lucia calling her name.

“I’m here,” she called back.

Lucia stepped through the fog up to her, and motioned for her to follow. After more shouting of names, the group reunited around the beast Marax had slain. Chyryl’s right arm had been mauled, and Marax’s leg bore deep claw marks, but Omil was already tending to both of them. Kayla looked at the creature that had attacked them. At first she took it for a large wolf, but as she leaned toward it, she saw that it had two black bony limbs protruding from its ribcage, each terminated with a three-clawed paw. She also saw that it had no eyes, and was missing patches of fur in certain places.

“What…?” Travis trailed off, examining the animal with obvious distaste.

“When the demons cross into our world, they have no form; they are immaterial spirits. They possess living or dead flesh and craft it to resemble their emotional form. Like creatures of our world, some demons are stronger than others. It would seem this demon spirit could not fully overcome the wolf’s own spirit, resulting in this… hybrid,” answered Lucia. “That is why the demons often use dead flesh, it is easier for them to make use of, but it is also more fragile.”

“What happens to the demon spirit when its new body is killed?” asked Dessa, glancing around furtively.

“It returns to the spirit world,” answered Abron flatly.

“What happens to the spirit of the living creatures the demons possess?” asked Kayla in a hushed voice, her eyes fixed on the dead creature.

Abron and Lucia exchanged a look, then looked back at the dead animal with a frown. Taul spoke in their place.

“We do not have all the answers, child. It is not our magic, after all. We believe they remain trapped inside the body, struggling with the invading spirit. When the body is destroyed, both spirits cross into the realm of the dead.”

Marax gave the corpse a parting kick, and the group resumed their trek. Marax looked over at Abron as they walked. He seemed to hesitate for several moments, then finally asked the question on his mind.

“I remember you saying that in Lethe, the spirit world was very close to our own. Does that mean there are demon spirits wandering about?” at Abron’s nod, he continued, “So, what’s to stop them from possessing us?”

“Nothing,” replied Abron evenly.