As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them; the joke was in poor taste.
Fortunately Keegan seemed to appreciate the effort. He glanced back over his shoulder at her with a faint smile.
“I thought you didn’t believe in saviors and prophecies.”
She didn’t answer right away.
“I didn’t used to,” she finally said. “But with everything we’ve seen, I might be having a change of heart.”
“I … I don’t understand.”
“I was convinced you had gone back to Ferlhame to destroy it,” she admitted. “I thought you were acting out of revenge. But when I saw you fighting the dragon I realized I was wrong about you. The Danaan tried to kill you, yet you risked your life to go back and try to save them. Obviously, I misjudged you.”
Keegan shifted uncomfortably. After a long silence he whispered, “I did go back for revenge. The dragon just happened to get there first.”
Scythe didn’t know how to respond to that. On the one hand his confession confirmed what she had first feared, but on the other hand he could easily have lied about his true motivations. His honesty had to count for something.
“I guess you were right all along,” he said, his voice filled with self-loathing. “I’m not the savior after all.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Scythe offered. “Whatever the reason you went back, you actually ended up doing the right thing. You stood against one of the Chaos Spawn and defeated it.”
“And destroyed half of Ferlhame in the process.”
“The dragon would have destroyed the entire city if you hadn’t come along,” she countered, aware of how much she was sounding like Jerrod. Was she trying to convince Keegan, or herself?
“Why are you suddenly on my side?” he asked.
She didn’t know, exactly.
“I’ve seen things I wouldn’t have believed were even possible a month ago,” she said. “I don’t know if you truly are the savior Jerrod thinks, but I’d be pretty damn stupid if I didn’t realize there was something special about you.
“I’m not sure exactly what I’ve gotten myself caught up in, but it’s something big. And I like to be part of the action.”
“This is not some grand adventure,” Jerrod said, abruptly joining the conversation.
He had ridden up silently behind them while she had been talking with Keegan, and Scythe wondered how much he had heard.
“The fate of the world hangs in the balance,” the monk continued. “Keegan is our only hope, and we must all be willing to do whatever is necessary to see that he fulfills his destiny.”
Scythe didn’t say anything, but glared at him with burning hatred in her eyes. She was glad she’d had a chance to talk to Keegan alone before he had interrupted. Her feelings toward the young mage might be changing, but her dislike of the monk was as strong as ever.
“The Ring,” Keegan said, suddenly noticing the chain dangling from Jerrod’s neck. He reached out slowly with his mutilated arm, oblivious to the fact that he couldn’t have grasped the Talisman without his missing hand.
Jerrod leaned back and tucked the Ring beneath his cloak, hiding it from sight.
“I’ll keep this for a while, Keegan,” he said softly. “You are weak; the Talisman’s power is more than you can handle right now.”
The young man snatched his phantom hand back, as if it had extended of its own accord and he had only now just become aware of it.
“Yes, keep it for now,” he said, though his words didn’t sound convincing. “Wait until my strength has returned.”
The monk frowned. “Even then using the Ring will be very dangerous,” he cautioned. “The Old Magic is the power of the True Gods. Whenever you unleash it you run the risk of waking any Chaos Spawn that might be entombed nearby.”
Scythe laughed despite herself.
“So after all we went through to get this Ring, now we can’t even use it?”
“Chaos is dangerous,” Jerrod told her. “Whenever it is set free in the mortal world there are unforeseen consequences.”
“Backlash,” Keegan whispered.
The monk nodded. “You unleashed enough Chaos to fell a dragon and level an entire city. I shudder to think what the backlash of that might be.”
On that note he spurred his horse to a brisk trot and rode on up ahead to let the others know that Keegan’s state had improved. Norr and Vaaler pulled up their horses and dropped back to greet the wizard, express their relief at his recovery. And then they continued on in silence once more, each of them lost in his or her own thoughts as they headed for the plains of the Frozen East.
“You have a visitor, my Queen.”
Rianna Avareen pulled her eyes away from the rubble that had once been her city. The Monarch’s castle, bolstered by the Old Magic of her ancestor builders, had survived the destruction despite the battle against the dragon just beyond the gates. But of the rest of the Danaan capital—fully half the buildings—had been utterly destroyed.
For days she had stared from her window at the devastation, remembering the night the unquenchable fires had spread unchecked through the streets despite the efforts of her mages and sorcerers. Hourly she received casualty updates; just this morning the numbers of the dead had surpassed five thousand. And there were many bodies yet to come.
The grim air of death hung over the city like a pall. Not a single citizen had escaped the horror without losing a cherished loved one. Even the Queen had suffered. Drake’s body had been recovered from the forest, along with that of his patrol. Vaaler, the son who had betrayed her people, was nowhere to be found. She had never felt so powerless, or so alone.
“You have a visitor, my Queen. He requests an audience.” Andar’s voice was louder this time, demanding a response from his silent liege.
The High Sorcerer had lost his wife, a captain of the guard, in the attack. His eldest son, a mage like his father, was still unaccounted for. Yet he performed the duties of his position with grace and honor. This was the bravery of a sort her people needed now, the courage to simply go on.
“I cannot give an individual audience to one of our people no matter the scope of his tragedy,” the Queen said wearily. “We have all suffered beyond what we can bear, and I am not strong enough to shoulder the burden of others.”
The truth shamed her, but she knew it must be so. She had to conserve her strength and her energy. The Danaan would rebuild Ferlhame, and they would turn to Rianna to lead them. She had to be ready for the ordeal.
“It is not a citizen, my Queen. Nor an emissary from one of the other cities in the kingdom. He is not a Danaan.”
Rianna drew her breath in sharply. “A human dares come to us now, after one of their kind brought this upon us?”
“N-no, my Queen,” Andar stammered. “He is definitely not human.”
Only now did Rianna see the terror the High Sorcerer was struggling to keep in check.
“His name is Orath. He calls himself a … a Minion. He brings us a gift.”
“What gift?” she asked, her throat suddenly dry.
“Revenge.”
Acknowledgments
Children of Fire is the culmination of many, many years of sweat and toil—a project I’ve been working on in one form or another for over twenty years. The seeds were planted in my youth by the works of Tolkien, Terry Brooks, and David Eddings, authors I discovered because my parents—Ron and Viv—always encouraged me to read. Later, they opened up our home to me and my friends as we spent countless hours in the basement, lost in the fantasy worlds of Dungeons and Dragons. They bought me an electric typewriter in high school so I could start banging out the little bits and pieces spilling from my mind—pieces that over the years would evolve and coalesce into the foundation of my own original fantasy world.
When I dropped out of the business program at university, they supported me, even if they didn’t fully understand why I did it at the time. Along with my wife, Jennifer, my parents always stood by me as I stumbled thr
ough a number of unappealing jobs and ill-suited careers, slowly finding my way to my true calling. They never once told me to give up on my dreams; they were always there for me when I needed them.
Ron and Viv—Mom and Dad—I’ve come a long, long way since those late nights in my room banging out those first few typewritten pages. But I’m here now, and it wouldn’t have happened without you. Thank you, and I love you both.
Excerpt TK
About the Author
DREW KARPYSHYN is the bestselling author of Star Wars: The Old Republic Revan and the Star Wars: Darth Bane trilogy: Path of Destruction, Rule of Two, and Dynasty of Evil. He also wrote the acclaimed Mass Effect series of novels and worked as a writer/designer on numerous award-winning videogames. After spending most of his life in Canada, he finally grew tired of the long, cold winters and headed south in search of a climate more conducive to year-round golf. Drew Karpyshyn now lives in Texas with his wife, Jennifer, and their cat.
Drew Karpyshyn, Children of Fire
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