Burning Today Options

[Olen]

Some of you probably remember my last piece, Yesterday's Shadow and that it had a rather unsatisfying ending. I spent the summer rectifying this and now have a sizeable sequel/ completion to it which is itself now finished. It would probably be better to read Yesterday's Shadow before this as it would make more sense, however you should get by without it. If anyone wants I'll put a synopsis here, though Yesterday's Shadow isn't very long so you could just read it here (enough plugs yet?)

Anyway without further ado:

Burning Today

Prologue

Dervas wore boots while he worked. Shoes didn't last long in the decaying mixture of blood, vomit, drink and drugs which floored The Black Guar. The dark man had finally passed out and for the first time Dervas dared look at him. A worn man with a broken soul. Who are you? The Black Guar didn't get passing trade – the mixture of pushers, heavies and racketeers who made up most of his patronage didn't appreciate strangers. In the first hour the man, who now lay face down on the table, had knocked two out cold and broken another's arm. They left him alone after that and he them. Dervas wiped the remains of a line of sugar off the bar and nodded to the bouncer who went to move the man to his room.

Someone knocked at the door. Dervas ignored it. They knocked again, for longer this time. He cursed and went to tell whoever it was where to go. It was late an he didn't need any more trade. He pushed open the door, a curse dancing on his tongue. A sack crashed to the ground, gold clinked within. A Breton in black clothes stood in the doorway.

“What's his tab?” There was no need to ask whose.

“Sixty.”

The Breton showed no surprise, and counted out the gold. “Listen,” his tone offered pain if Dervas didn't, “You keep giving that guy drinks, drugs, whores, whatever he asks for okay? For him happy hour doesn't end, tabs never have to be paid. Push as much as you can into him. Don't worry - I'll be round a couple of nights a week to pay you. That sack,” he kicked disdainfully at the one he'd just dropped, “Contains a thousand drakes, payment enough I'd say. If he asks don't tell him, just give him more drink. Understand?”

Dervas nodded, his mouth was dry.

The man disappeared into the night.

Dervas walked back into the bar. He looked towards the dark man's room. Who are you? he thought again, And what have I gotten into?

[Olen]

Yes... My utter reliance on spellchecking shows it's head again. I'll endevour to watch out for that (and ensure that first drafts never see the light of day).

Anyway here's the next bit.


12. A Mirror to the Past

Stars appeared like points of hope as the world darkened. A meal of hardtack was all that broke the monotony of my vigil. The people had gone inside, lights still showed in some windows and the sound of drunken laughter drifted on the night time breeze. I pulled my cloak tight about me. Hours passed and I took a swig of skooma and a mouthful of hackle-lo to keep awake.

Even so I dozed. A muffled crack stirred me and I shook the tiredness from my head. I stared into the dark forest but saw no movement. Another broken twig, this one closer to me. Silently I rose and slipped away and down towards the sleeping village. A rustle of leaves. The stalker was inexperienced and probably alone. If there was another they were better. I glanced around but the dark trees held their secrets. I moved on back, near to a low timber barn at the edge of Irrol. Then I caught a glimpse of a figure against the sky, closer to incompetence than inexperience. Long hair, showed, but no more. A woman then, and no sneak either. A mage.

My heart beat faster. I'd intended to play it by ear but now cursed my lack of planning. I knew fine well she could tear me apart before it happened. But she hadn't seen me, and with luck neither had she seen my pack by the tree. I continued back, silent, towards the barn. It was low, more a shed for curing firewood than a proper building. Inside was black. I felt my way and crouched, sword ready to the side. My free hand found a rock on the floor. I waited, tense as a coiled spring.

I glimpsed the figure through one of the many gaps between planks in the wall. She wasn't being very careful now. And she was making straight for the shed seemingly unaffected by the darkness. I cursed inwardly. She was a skilled mage, of course the dark wouldn't help me. Even so I remained still, how well did their night vision work? I didn't know. She continued on, breaking twigs and stirring leaves marked her progress towards the shed. So much good had the villagers been in diverting her. I pressed myself into the deepest shadow between the door and a woodpile.

She was careless and walked right in. It was that carelessness that saved me, I knew I couldn't kill her, or even strike her without warning, without trying to cure her, to talk her down. I was about to say her name but the inattention didn't seem right. I looked again, the hair was a bit long, the stature to short and Renera moved more like a soldier than a mage, the figure did not. Whoever she was she was not Renera.

I moved in a flash before she had looked to my corner. The stone hit the back of her head and she folded, dark ooze seeped from the wound. In an instant I was at her side. She groaned.

"Who are you?" I hissed, the point of my dagger tickling her throat.

She tensed, about to try something. I pushed the dagger just a little and some blood seeped out. She relaxed again with a sigh, "They said you were dangerous."

"Who said?"

She paused and moved her head gently then shuddered. "I assume you're Firen Varian?"

"Yes." It was a long time since I'd heard my surname.

"I saw what you did to Ernard in Firewatch. If you promise to let me live I'll talk." She shivered.

"Who sent you," I asked. She paused, before answering and I thought I heard a noise on the breeze, "Are you alone?" I added.

"No," she replied, "But the other four are over the next ridge and weren't to follow. The Mage's guild sent us."

"Why?" I asked, mystified.

"Well there was Ernard," I looked skeptical and she quickly continued, "I got the impression there was something else, maybe a job, or something. Did you sell out?"

"Don't play with me," I said and ran the knife up her throat and along her cheek leaving a shallow gash. She stayed impressively quiet.

"I'm not," the whimper in her voice was one I'd heard too recently, "They didn't say why, just that you were to die."

I thought for a moment. What was I in? I knew what I'd seen but plenty didn't make sense, they'd tried to keep me but when I ran they were trying to kill me. I looked up again and thought I caught a glimpse of movement, but there was nothing. Just someone making a noise in their house probably, "Are you sure you're alone here?"

"Yes. I ordered them to stay until I signalled."

"What signal?"

"Red fire into the sky if I needed backup." Probably true, it was fairly standard guild practice.

"How did you find-" I was cut off.

Fire erupted from first one house on the opposite side of the town then just as I caught my breath the one next to it exploded. It was no normal fire, in an instant the damp wooden houses were infernos. Even at my distance I felt the blistering heat. Screaming yellow light cast sharp shadows in the low shed.

"What the hell," breathed the mage.

"What's your name?"

"Arrsa," she replied.

"Well Arrsa, you know there's been back country killings." I didn't wait for a reply. It was a statement, "Irrith was next in line. The Blackwater Company operative the Guild sent when it all went wrong is out of her mind. I was here to cure her, or stop her failing that. Now for the sake of these people help me."

I stood and hauled her up before running out into the wild dancing light and flames and heat. A house to my right exploded into fire. It was already too late for many of the inhabitants, others milled about terrified and confused in the town square. Then I saw her opposite. She wore the same clothes she had when she ran into the night, but the were torn and dishevelled. She looked far from pitiful though, a black madness radiated from her, her bearing spoke of power, utmost confidence. She raised her hands.

The spell made no sound. There was not even a flash of light. I think that's what made it so terrible, helped it to stand out in my bleakest nights above all the other horror I'd seen. The towns people simply started falling apart. And arm would drop, severed from the body. Blood would pour from the massive wound. People screamed as their limbs turned to mince, then stopped as their jaw or head fell off or when blood loss silenced them. Children clutched their mothers, then the embrace broke along with the sinew which attached their arms. Behind it she stood with eyes like caves full of capering shadows. Then I knew that if there was anything left of the woman I'd loved it was beyond any earthly reach.

But even so I tried. Perhaps a secret streak of romanticism, though more likely the black suicidal well in the depths of my mind, made me step forward. "Stop this," I called, "You remember me, please stop."

Another house erupted, its burning inhabitants spilled screaming from the door. My only answer. I turned, Arrsa was behind me, wide eyed.

"Do something?"

"Against her? I couldn't."

"Send lighting, if you can, then red sparks. None of this would have happened if you left me alone."

"but-"

"Do it, she isn't that powerful." I didn't know exactly what she was, but the lie worked.

Renera stood on a throne of destruction. The conductor of havoc. The mage lowered her hands and threw a blot of lighting. It struck squarely, Renera fell back and the infernos slowed and were just fires, unaided by magic.

Then Renera staggered back to her feet. "Call the others," I said.

"I can't," replied Arrsa, "That spell took almost all my magic."

"Do it." I growled, "Or what I might do to you will seem mild."

She nodded, white with terror. She made a quick gesture, her hands shook. A weak red flame sprouted but died. Renera, if the name could still be used, was easing her hands to cast a spell. Arrsa took a deep breath and made the sign in the air again. A plume of red flame leapt up and burst high in the sky. Renera stepped forward and swept a hand. A few frightened villagers hiding behind a chicken coop fell dead. She raised her hands.

Then fire burst from the house beside her engulfing her. It looked like lamp oil bursting but it was enough to knock her again. She stood, took one last look around then turned and fled.

I swore. A field of dead was all that remained of the towns inhabitants. The buildings burned. I had gambled them, and won nothing. I turned on the mage. "I was waiting for her. To stop her doing that." I was aware my voice had a maniacal pitch, "Why did you stop me? Are you happy now? She'll get to Alt Bosara now, then what?"

She shrank back, "What was - is - she?"

"The result of your messing around. Poking at things buried. That's what."

"There are five of us, I'm sure we can take her. If you wait for the rest you could help." Fear showed in her eyes.

"Nice try," I said and grabbed her, my knife at her back.

"But you promised-"

"Yes and trust a snake before a mother of mine and a mother of mine before an addict. But trust and addict before a mage." With the final word I pushed the knife between her ribs and let her drop off it into the corpses. She screamed.

I had missed the heart but didn't take the time to rectify it as I fled though the embers and fields of the dead. The last thing I saw as I left the town was a young boy, somehow alive, looking at the ruins and horror though wide tear-filled eyes. Only then did I see the similarity. Feel what I'd wrought. And as I ran and cried I also hated. I hated myself for risking it, but mostly I hated the Mage's Guild for causing it.