The Mad God (On hold)

Chapter Seven - Part Four

The lookouts were all deserted, each and every one as dead as the last. Athir would have stern words with the scouts when she caught them; the older ones especially should have known better. Deft-fingers would get her wrath most of all. Not all orphans knew their given a name, so nicknames stuck; he was as clumsy as anything, but had the eyes of a hawk.

Slowly she stretched her fingers, and gave a warning to her brother. Discretion was always needed. Especially when everything felt wrong. She couldn’t blame anyone for leaving their posts for good reason, although there was no sign of a struggle in any of them. The sewers were empty; devoid of all sounds but the rats scurrying and the occasional echo of a distant drop in to the sludge beneath the city.

“Around this next corner is the hideout. Maybe they all just got scared?” Her brother replied, as slowly as she had.

It was possible, but what could scare an orphan who spent every day risking their life? Or what could kill them all without leaving a trace?  she thought to herself sombrely, but she knew the answer. Magic. When they all saw her ability, there was awe in their eyes and voice, but their bodies spoke of fear. The unknown. The stories of the Madmen of Merritza, of the fabled Lunatics or Leray. Bands of magicians that had taught themselves magic, only to do so incompletely and to kill millions as they lost their mind to the power. As they gave in to the carnal urges. But for every ten who couldn’t learn magic safely by themselves, there were a few naturals. People who could safely wield large amounts of power, and it came to them like a baby’s cry.

If there were other magicians about, she would have to be careful indeed. Her magic would be useless against people trained in the art, for she was but a girl. If it came to a fight, then she, and the orphans, were all but dead.

Maybe they had just come for her, and would leave the others alone. They might know it was she who had burnt that guard, and come for her punishment. She braced herself as the slimy, moss covered bricks transitioned to the smooth red brick of their hideout. The cries of children, which would usually greet anyone to the large circular room, were absent. Instead a grim silence grew in its place, interrupted occasionally by the echoes of their footsteps.

She edged round the corner and motioned for her brother to wait. Singed bodies littered the plaza that was her home. A hand reached out to her ankle, which almost sent her sprawling. His legs were twisted unnaturally, but other than that he looked like he might live. She smiled at him, Surefoot. No older than Hinther, and loyal to a fault. He would have made a fine leader one day.

“They came for you,” he said, his voice trembling with the effort. “Three men in long robes just appeared here and asked for you. We didn’t tell them where you were though, but that made them angry, so they started to torture some, and tried to kill the rest. A message from the Order they said.” A chill shot through Athir. The Holy Order of Truth had killed her parents, and led a bloody civil war. But they had been crushed, defeated by the King’s men. There had been no news of them since their army died at the walls of Alddra.

Athir forced a smile. “You did good, Surefoot.” She helped him sit up, then got her brother to help look for others. Only fifteen of the sixty had survived, but it was unlikely that at least five would make it.

The watch posts had been taken first, and silenced before the alarm could be raised. Then they unleashed fire, earth and wind alike, creating terrors from the magic which devoured the children. Screams and all.

A bright light enveloped the sewer room, so harsh that she had to shield her eyes. Moments later, figures appeared, dressed in crimson robes gilded with gold. The children screamed, backing away as far as they could from the guild magicians.

One of the five lowered his cowl, his head shaved clean and his piercing green eyes drank in the scene before him. “We came to keep the King’s peace. None of you look trained, however. So where are those responsible? If you step forwards now, we can train you.” His voice sounded like metal over leather, dry and without remorse. 

Surefoot spoke up, “Wassn’t one of us, milord, but three magicians claiming to be from the Order they did.”

A flash of annoyance crossed the man’s face. His frown furrowed, and he looked directly at Athir, his cold eyes boring a hole straight through her soul. “Tell me it exactly as it happened, girl.”

Athir shifted her weight between her feet, but kept her eyes focused on the man. “I wasn’t here, milord.”

“What were you doing?”

“I was teaching my brother…” She trailed off. If she told them she was teaching him how to use magic, they would steal them away, possibly even kill them, or the other orphans. She swallowed. “…some manners, milord.”

“Don’t lie to me, girl. Your thoughts are transparent to me. Come to the guild with me, there we shall teach you.” Athir looked to her brother, and then to the other Orphans. They were her friends – no, her family – and she couldn’t desert them. “Girl, you have two options. You and your brother come with us and learn magic safely, or we kill you both now. We will heal your family as best we can, and will hold them in the guild until they are of age to be tested. If any can learn magic they shall. If not, then they shall learn trades and keep the king’s peace.” He held out his hand in offering.

This could mean an end to the life of stealing, the other orphans would grow up safe and knowledgeable. But it could all be a trap from the Order, to try and snare her. Yet, truly she had no choice, and so she smiled at the others, and took his hand. 

***

Once again, I hoped you enjoyed it! If you've spotted any errors please do point them out, and as always, if you have any thoughts, feel free to let me know :)

~Cekoti