Fireborn

By James Dwyer

The world of power is turning to ice... and when its keeper, the great Amadis Yeda disappears, armies of magic begin to war, creatures of darkness come into the light, gods walk among men, nations plunge into chaos, and the lives of four friends are changed forever:

Kris, a warrior who struggles not to kill every man, woman and child he meets, is sent to stop the new tyrant, Aerath, from turning the world to ice.

Thisian, a man who loves only gold, women and himself, takes advantage of the new found freedom a world without order has created.

Phira, the youngest and only female general her nation has ever known, is on a mission to uncover the secret behind Aerath’s new power and how to stop his oncoming armies.

And Dallid, a man who has spent his life among those far greater than him, is given all the power of the gods. He must struggle with the responsibility cast on him, he must show the world what strength of flesh and heart can be when a mortal man is given limitless power.

He must show the world what it is to be Fireborn.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Dwyer
• Release date: Feb 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310916762

James Dwyer

Born in the 80's, and lived the 90's, brothers James and Brendan Dwyer live in Cork and Dublin, Ireland.Cult Fiction is their first published novel.

Book preview

Lost

Amadis was losing his mind.

His grasp on what was real unravelled more with every moment. Memories that were not his would arrive without warning and dominate his every perception, saturating his senses with false reality. His hands trembled at how powerless he was to stop this. The visions had him question not only his strength, but also any confidence he had in his current surroundings. How could he know that anything was real? Could he even be certain he was losing his mind?

‘Amadis, you have been lost in thought for some time now.’ Lyat hesitated before asking, ‘My friend, are you well?’

Amadis turned to glare at his companion.

‘I meant no disrespect,’ Lyat said quickly, ‘but... we should keep moving, or we will be discovered.’

Lyat was right, but Amadis did not tell him that. Instead he turned and left without speaking. He could hear Lyat grumble about his arrogance as he was forced to follow after. Lyat was an intelligent man, but without Amadis he would become lost in the maze.

Every room of the maze was identical to the last - in structure, if not content - and without the knowledge Amadis possessed, escape was impossible. The rooms were all composed of the same crumbling limestone, with wall carvings of ancient warriors battling demonic creatures, and statues of those warriors also decorating the room. The statues were stone, but their weapons, shields, armour or masks were all real, made of metal or wood. All four walls held an archway to another chamber, and each of those chambers held four more identical archways leading to four more identical rooms. The guardian of the maze constructed it to drive his captives to despair, to take away any spirit they may still possess before he took their lives.

If Amadis was not so terrified his mind would fail him, then he would have summoned the guardian immediately and killed him, so they could continue their journey without delay. Lyat often called Amadis arrogant without peer, but Amadis would shrug this off and say he was simply without peer. What made him so formidable was his ability to kill anyone of his choosing. He had the power to know where someone was, appear instantly at their location and kill them if they needed to be killed. It was this power that held the entire world at peace. It kept each ruler in enough dread of Amadis’s wrath, that they could not become tyrants in their own lands, or create war with the lands of others. Amadis had all of this power, so much that the gods themselves feared him, and still, he was losing his mind. The absurdity of it would be enough to drive him to madness if it was not already happening.

Amadis pulled out of his own private torture long enough to see Lyat reaching to touch a statue as they passed it: a female warrior of stone, frozen in mid-fight, her metal blade reflecting the torchlight flickering from each wall.

‘Do not touch anything, Lyat, and do not use any power inside this maze. The guardian will feel it, and he will twist this maze until we end up in his hall.’

Lyat frowned. ‘And do we fear this guardian? Even you?’

Amadis tightened his jaw. He never had to explain himself to anyone else, but Lyat was different. For years he and Lyat shared a unique friendship, one that neither man could have with any other, their power and positions affording little opportunity for companionship: Lyat was a king of millions, and Amadis was the king of kings. He first met Lyat when he had intended to kill him, to stop Lyat’s armies from advancing on weaker nations. Instead they formed a friendship. Amadis wanted to tell his friend why he was here, to explain the fears he fought about losing his mind. But he could not. He could not say the words aloud. Amadis was clutching what little sanity he still possessed, tightly to his heart, and if he opened the truth to Lyat now, he feared that it would be the end of him completely.

‘We will not waste our time killing him, Lyat. We will find what we have come here to find and we will leave.’

Lyat stepped closer. He was taller and broader than Amadis’s slim frame. Lyat’s thick black beard added to the size of his jaw and his wild hair added to his height, each one in contrast with Amadis who was always clean shaven to show the sharp lines of his stone-like face, and Amadis’s hair was longer, but tied back tightly to a tail. They were almost complete opposites: Lyat wore thick fur cloaks, and dressed richly; Amadis wore only a shirt, a sword, breeches and boots, dressed plainly and for function. Lyat decorated himself generously with brooches and fine silken clothing, but it did not hide the brutal danger of the person beneath. Having Lyat step so close would be enough to make any man anxious. Amadis was not any man.

‘Amadis, are you certain that these doorways even exists? Of course I trust your wisdom, but...’ Lyat struggled for words before frowning and spinning away. His boots echoed on the silent stone around them, the air became heavier, and dust began to fall from the ceiling. Amadis recognised this as Lyat’s powers struggling to be contained. He rounded on Amadis.

‘Never before, Amadis, have you asked this of me! It is precisely your power that you alone can travel where you wish, appear where you will, and kill who you want. If you want to kill this tyrant Aerath then why not just do it! Why have you brought me to this maze, to search with you for some soul-stealing doorways from a forgotten time? Why am I here, Amadis?’

Amadis closed his eyes. The Iceborn Aerath was the latest ruler to dream of world domination. Under normal circumstances, Amadis would know the tyrant’s location and travel to him through a plane of existence known as the life-stream. But when he had last journeyed there, it was a trap. Aerath must have discovered some way to poison it, and infected Amadis’s mind with a preternatural toxin. Now he was crumbling from within. So he asked Lyat to accompany him here to help battle Aerath because if Amadis’s mind faltered at the wrong moment then he would need his friend to save him. It was a humbling thing to need, something Amadis had never before encountered in his life, and he did not know how to handle it.

He should give some explanation. He could simply say that the life-stream he usually travelled was now poisoned. He did not even need to say that the poison was causing him to lose his mind. He did not need to say how he knew Aerath must be the man responsible for tainting his method of travel, and that he now needed to kill Aerath to remove the power behind the dark venom killing him. Once that power was removed, Amadis hoped his mind would heal. It was a delicate hope.

His damaged mind now searched desperately for a solution. Lyat deserved some answer, deserved even some lie. Perhaps he could say the mountain of ice where Aerath resided was unable to be pierced by any other method of travel. But it still did not answer why Lyat was with him. Amadis struggled, he tried to blame the madness for his hesitations, for his irritability, his loss of control, but there was more. For as long as he could remember he had dominated anyone he faced. People would either obey him or be killed by him. He tried to recall the years he and Lyat had spent together as friends. Were those memories being taken from him? Or did they ever happen?

The answer would not come, so Amadis reacted like he would to anyone else. He opened his eyes and his voice went cold. ‘You are here because I have asked you here. You do not need another reason and do not question me again.’

Amadis waited. His hands stopped trembling and stayed near the hilt of his sword. A part of him knew it was a mistake to bring Lyat, and a larger mistake to speak to him like this. He may need to kill his friend now. Perhaps not as arrogant as Amadis, Lyat still demanded respect. Amadis’s memories were unravelling but he knew enough that Lyat had once been on the path to becoming a warlord. He was known the world over as Lyat the Destroyer of Armies. They had helped each other in that way. Amadis had stopped Lyat from further drowning his soul in the blood of innocent men, and Lyat had taught Amadis that not everyone was so far beneath him. That lesson felt a distant thing now as he reverted to his baser instincts: he felt threatened by Lyat’s power; felt his own weakness amplified by his proximity.

Neither man moved. Both were capable of destroying the other in less than a heartbeat if needed. If Lyat choose that moment to attack, to forget their years of friendship like Amadis was appearing to do, if he chose to rid the world of the unbearable Amadis Yeda, to free it of his ceaseless watch, and if at that same moment Amadis’s mind should falter...

‘Lead on, oh mighty Amadis,’ Lyat finally growled through gritted teeth. ‘Your lowly servant, Lyat, will follow at your heels.’

Amadis closed his eyes once more to search for peace. Of course Lyat would not attack him. They had been friends for so many years. Had he imagined the tension only moments ago? He had not imagined Lyat’s reply in any case, so Amadis would tolerate the contempt of his only friend when the alternative was to kill him. But why did it need to be the only alternative? Why could he not just speak the truth! Why could he not just admit aloud that he was losing his mind! To tell his friend that he was not Amadis anymore, that he was the weak and frightened memory of the man instead.

His mouth would not move, and it took every ounce of control he had not to break down and weep for what he once had been. Amadis turned and left the room.

As they walked in silence, the statues began to disorientate Amadis. He still knew where he was going - his mind had at least not yet robbed him of that - but he was becoming dizzy. Was this the magic of the guardian or the degradation of Amadis’s consciousness? From what he knew of the guardian, he was a creature who despised magic. The guardian came from a time when there was no magic, only weapons of exceptional power - weapons like the sword Amadis wore. In that time, no gods existed; something had killed them all... but what?

Amadis panicked. He was certain he knew this. What had killed the gods? And why had more gods returned again, new ones, young, all afraid of Amadis. Did they conspire with Aerath now to kill him? The room around him began to fade. Drawing his sword in alarm, Amadis turned to see Lyat was no longer with him and he was no longer in the guardian’s maze.

He was standing next to an underground lake and the smell of damp from the cave walls assaulted him. This is not real, he tried telling himself. There was an island in the middle of the lake, but it did not rest in the water; it floated above it. There was nothing that he could see supporting the land mass, its unnatural and massive weight seeming to press down on Amadis’s mind. He turned away to look at stepping stones that hovered in a pathway up to the island’s top.

I know what is up there.

A flash of red appeared and Amadis spun to face it. He was presented with a man of fire holding a sword of flames. Amadis turned his own sword slightly, a thin, single-edged blade of deep black, with silver flames of its own etched along its deadly curve. He called his sword The Jaguar, because it killed with one touch.

Amadis whipped his blade down and ran it through his enemy’s neck without thought. But the creature did not die as it should. Worse, the sword became tangled in the fire instead of passing through. The thing in front of him did not have a face, but it looked like it smiled before sticking its own sword of fire deeply into Amadis’s flesh.

Pain exploded, but not where the sword had struck. It burnt his mind, searing through the deepest parts of him. Realisation hit and Amadis remembered with great clarity that this was the poison he had encountered. He had entered the life-stream, ready to travel to the mountain where Aerath waited, ready to kill the man who was trying to turn the world to ice, but inside the life-stream he had met this creature of fire.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and Amadis spun around, his sword suddenly free from the man of flames, stopping it only inches from Lyat’s face. The sword shook with fragile control as Amadis struggled to clear his mind. He was back in the maze. There was no lake. There was no spectre of fire. His friend Lyat was frozen in place, staring at the black blade quivering inches from his eyes. As powerful as Lyat was, if that metal touched his skin, then he would be dead. It was the power of the sword, a power from another age, from another life.

Amadis slammed the sword back into his sheath and Lyat began to breathe again. Sweat soaked his skin and Lyat’s eyes shone with the realisation that he had almost died. Amadis’s hands were trembling again, but as far as he could tell, he was back in control.

‘Amadis,’ Lyat said, clearing his throat, ‘what are you not telling me?’

He would tell him. He needed to tell him. Lyat, my friend, I am losing my mind. I need you now, to protect me, if my mind should fail when we battle Aerath. Please, I beg your help in my weakest hour. Amadis opened his mouth and again could not give life to the words, either to Lyat, or to himself. He could not.

Looking around at anything other than the hurt and confusion on his friend’s face, Amadis tried to make sure this was real. His eyes darted around and immediately caught the figure of a statue protruding above an archway. It was of the goddess Am’bril, her naked torso thrusting out from the stone, her arms spread to either side and sinking back to the wall. The statue’s fingers trailed into long vines before sinking into rock and becoming narrow groves. Those groves spiralled down the walls and along the floor to underneath where Amadis and Lyat both stood.

‘The guardian has found us,’ Amadis said softly.

Lyat looked around, the air becoming heavy and the room groaning under its force. Lyat could crush the chamber to rubble if he let out the full strength of his magic, but the guardian was not there. Amadis’s eyes drifted down one of the path of archways, looking to where a darkness waited.

‘Come, let us kill the thing and be done,’ Amadis whispered and began walking towards the darkness.

‘Amadis, you...’ Lyat started but then changed what he was going to say. He sighed. Perhaps having a common enemy to confront would assuage all the questions that were being left unanswered. ‘Tell me this at least, how do we kill him?’

‘We do not.’ Amadis looked his friend in the eyes and saw all of his questions there. But he also saw something else, he saw both a concern and a trust that he did not deserve. He saw a friend that was being led blindly in a maze, being disrespected at every turn, and yet still remained loyal. Amadis was endlessly grateful to have such a man with him, to give him this strength, but Lyat would be of no use in the coming fight. ‘You will be powerless in his hall, my friend. The guardian is from another age, Lyat, before the heavens were breached and its power bled back into this world. When we enter his hall, there will be no magic.’

Pieces of Amadis’s memories slowly returned, and with it, confidence. A man named Brijnok had broken through to the heavens all those centuries ago, and allowed gods and magic back into the world. Some of the more dramatic scholars believed that the world was now dying, drowning from the power the heavens flooded into it. Amadis killed anyone that drank too deeply from that power and right now he needed to kill Aerath, but if the guardian of the maze wanted Amadis Yeda to kill him too, then so be it.

They began walking once more, and as they advanced through the different chambers of statues, Amadis turned to see other rooms of darkness in different directions. It would be usual for the trapped warriors of this maze to try to flee, to avoid the hall of shadows and race mindlessly in vain. Amadis, however, walked directly to the darkness that was closest. They journeyed swiftly and in silence, and when they reached the final archway, a black nothingness waited for them. Amadis paused so Lyat could compose himself.

‘I have never been without my power before, Amadis,’ he confided. Hints of fear trickled through his dangerous exterior. How much stronger was Lyat that he could speak of his weakness with such ease? Admit it openly to his friend. But it was no longer appropriate for Amadis to do the same. Lyat needed him to be strong now. They both did.

‘Do not worry, Lyat; I will kill him quickly. I will not give him a single chance to hurt you. Just keep your wits about you and do not lose your mind at what you are about to see.’

Whether those last words were for Lyat or himself, Amadis could not decide. He drew his sword and stepped into the darkness.

Chapter Two

Forgotten

As soon as Amadis entered the darkness, his vision pierced through it and the shadows began to fade. The gloom fled further and further back from his gaze, revealing a hall far larger than the temple should have been able to contain. Pillars lined every direction, making vision of the vast hall difficult, and still the darkness faded further to reveal an ever greater distance. There was no end to it, Amadis knew, so they would keep the entrance in sight and wait for the guardian to come to them. The view of eternity was unsettling, but Lyat handled it well.

‘No walls, no ceiling, no end to the hall, and you tell me there is no magic in this place?’ Lyat grumbled and stepped about cautiously, his hands working for something to do. His power and strength would already have been taken from him, just as Amadis’s was, but at least Amadis had the comfort of his sword. Lyat carried no weapons. His magic was so formidable that he never needed them. His fingers curled in and out of fists now wishing they held one. He turned and smiled to break some of his unease, ‘At least there is a floor.’

The distorted reality of the room had nothing to do with magic. The guardian was trapped in this place, caught in a power between broken times. Memories returned to Amadis unbidden as he recalled the terrible creature that destroyed all the gods and created a new age, an age where this guardian had flourished, revelling in the thrill of a world without magic, gifting warriors instead with weapons of power to create war and chaos. Then Brijnok breached the heavens. The magic of flesh could once more compete with the magic of blade, and the guardian was imprisoned here in this hall of shadowed reality. Now all he could do was lure victims to his web with the promise of ancient weapons to those that defeated him. Amadis’s hand rested on the hilt of one.

‘We shall not be here long,’ Amadis said back.

‘Such confidence!’ a voice spoke from the darkness. It was a hollow, grating whisper that sounded like rusted metal if it could speak. ‘Am I so lowly when faced with the mighty Amadis that he shall be done with me and gone so quickly?’

‘Show yourself and do not waste my time,’ Amadis replied.

The guardian laughed and stepped out from behind a pillar.

‘So arrogant,’ he said. ‘Was I once like you, brother?’ The guardian puzzled over his own question and regarded them curiously. His face was a skull wrapped in silver skin, with black hollows in place of eyes and mouth. He wore thick black armour with a blue mask at its centre in the shape of a shield. It was the symbol of Moi’dan’s defence against all things magic, except Moi’dan would wear it on his face and not on his chest. The guardian was making a bold claim to display a mask of Moi’dan so blatantly, and to think he had the audacity to call Amadis arrogant. To add to the guardian’s conceit, he wore a broad sword on his hip and he had foolishly not drawn it yet. The guardian’s silver skin pulled tightly on his skull as he smiled.

‘You have become more since we last met, Amadis! I am impressed.’

Amadis did not even bother to frown at the guardian’s riddles, he had wasted enough time. But as soon as he had formed the intention to step forward and kill the creature, he found that his sword was gone. Was this a trick of his mind or a trick of the guardian? The rasping laughter that echoed from the guardian gave Amadis his answer.

‘Oh the powerful Amadis robbed of all his power. Let me ask you, brother, what are you if not your power? What are any of us? If you take everything of note away from a man, what is left that we can even see? This world has forgotten that.’

‘This is not your world and I am not your brother,’ Amadis said, trying to control his intentions so as not to give warning. ‘And without sword or power I am still more than enough to kill a thing such as you.’

The guardian stepped forward, the movement causing the metal of his body to sound loudly. The silver skin of his skull wrinkled again as he smiled, but this time the black hollow of his mouth grew darker as he spoke. ‘That is where you are wrong, brother. That is exactly all we are, you and I. You are more because another of our brothers has joined you, I can feel that now, and you are drawn to us, trying to become complete once more."

The guardian was a broken creature, lost and forgotten, so Amadis paid his comments no heed, but Lyat shifted uncomfortably at the strange speech. The guardian’s head snapped at the movement, not realising Lyat was there he had been so intently focused on Amadis. The surprise was clear even on a face that did not have any features.

‘But perhaps you are right!’ the guardian announced. ‘As you stand here unarmed and without power, and still claim to be my better. Perhaps you are correct when you say you are enough to kill me, so let me make it even. Let me be like you and become more...’

Eight identical guardians stepped out from behind the pillars and surrounded Lyat and Amadis. Each wore the same armour and each moved with the same motions, but the moment the first one appeared, Amadis attacked. He charged toward the real guardian and without ceremony shouldered the creature to the floor, while at the same time drawing out the guardian’s own blade from its sheath. In a single motion he had the armoured warrior slammed to the ground, his sword drawn, and Amadis did not hesitate as he plunged the blade into the guardian’s chest. The sword struck cleanly through where he had the image of a shield decorated, and the irony of it pleased Amadis greatly.

The eight other guardians turned as one to see Amadis kill their ninth, and the number of them only enflamed his fury further. Nine guardians wearing the mask of Moi’dan on their chests in mimic of the nine real masks that Moi’dan possessed. It was an outrage. Moi’dan was the greatest warrior of every history and this creature was claiming to be his slayer. Well there were only eight now and as Amadis reached down to pull out the sword he had killed the first with, he was pleased to see a different sword returned to his hands. It had been a great show of strength for the guardian to take it from him in the first place, but clearly that strength had vanished with his life.

Lyat shifted his feet again, nervously waiting for the charge to come from the other eight guardians who were for now still in shock at the sudden death of their first. Amadis turned the Jaguar blade in his hand, letting the silver flames shine, and charged them instead. All eight drew their blades, not matching their first’s mistake of keeping it sheathed, but it did not matter. Even without his powers there was no matching Amadis. The second was dead before any had time to make another move, and only then did the fighting begin.

The guardians fought with greater strength and speed than Amadis, their swords were wider and doubled edged, they had full armour to protect everything but their heads, and yet all these things did not stop the third and fourth from falling loudly to the floor.

Lyat made a run for Amadis’s back, both to protect it and to stay clear of the faster guardians. They were certainly capable of killing Lyat while he was stripped of power, but as the fifth and sixth dropped with a dead clang, there were less and less threats to Lyat’s life. Even fighting together to best Amadis, the guardians were not enough. He fought and the guardians died because he held the Jaguar blade. He had only to touch their silver skin and they dropped to their deaths.

The sword did not swallow life into its power or anything as grand as that; the sword was simply the antithesis to life. Where a thing lived the sword would make it dead. It was a simple power embedded with tremendous strength from an age long vanished. It was the sword that killed with one touch and Amadis was the killer that let it.

It was not long before the hall was littered with nine dead guardians and Amadis thought about plunging their own swords into the mocking shields on their chests just as he did the first. Perhaps that would destroy the guardian for once and for all. But now that he was defeated the guardian would appear anew and offer Amadis his prize. Memory flared unwanted, confirming that he had killed this creature many times before and that The Jaguar was never the prize. Then where did he get it? Amadis had always possessed the sword. It had been a gift from his brother...

Pain pierced into his mind as things he did not understand tried to break free. None of it made sense. He did not have a brother. The poison inside him was burning as fiercely as the spectre of fire who gave it to him. Amadis began to feel light headed, his vision fading to white. No, not again, please! A large hand pressed down on his shoulder, and Amadis snapped his eyes to see Lyat looking at him with concern. The hallucination did not come, and it was because of his friend. He had done the right thing in bringing him.

‘Thank you, Lyat.’

‘For what?’

‘For coming here with me.’ The gratitude seemed to make Lyat as uncomfortable as it made Amadis. Neither man knew what to say next, so Amadis returned his sword to its sheath and looked to the exit. ‘Come, let us leave here. I care not for any prize this creature might offer.’

‘You wish to leave as quickly as you defeat me, brother?’

Amadis looked back to see the guardian standing whole again. The nine fallen bodies gone and this time, wisely, he was unarmed. He even had his arms extended in a gesture of surrender.

‘You are not my brother.’

The guardian smiled. ‘You are right, we are not brothers. We are more.’

‘You are defeated. Bring me to the room where you hold the world wounds. I will leave this place.’

‘You will leave without your prize?’

‘You have nothing I need.’

‘Are you so sure?’ He asked as a sword appeared in one of his hands. It was long and narrow, single bladed, and almost exact to The Jaguar in every appearance except with one stark difference: the blade was white from hilt to tip. It even had the same silver flames along its edge. ‘Have you heard of this sword?’

Amadis paused. ‘Yes.’

The Jaguar blade was probably the deadliest blade in the world, but the one that the guardian held, The Lion, had the potential to be worse. If it got into the wrong hands then it could cause catastrophe but in the hands of Amadis...

‘Then you know that you cannot hold them both, Amadis, not even you. If you accept this blade then you must relinquish your precious Jaguar.’

The guardian did not lie. If Amadis held them both, or even touched The Jaguar after touching The Lion, they would negate each other, killing him in the process. But he could not risk anyone else claiming it. The new sword was more powerful, but The Jaguar was his.

‘What is your answer, Amadis? Will you give up your beloved sword?’

‘I will not.’

‘Then alas, this will become lost to the histories once more.’

‘No.’

The guardian titled his head and stared at Amadis. ‘Oh? Do you truly believe that you can hold them both? I fear your arrogance has broken your mind. I would not see you destroyed by such foolish misadventure. So I will not give it to you unless you give me The Jaguar, and even killing me for it will not help you, the sword will vanish, only to reappear to be granted to any warriors that defeat me. We will be left with the same dilemma.’ The guardian smiled in clever triumph.

‘You choose your words well, guardian. It is precisely warriors that have defeated you. There were two of us in this battle and you may hand the sword to Lyat.’

Lyat’s brow lifted in surprise and the guardian’s deepened in displeasure. It did not matter that Lyat had not fought. He had been involved in the battle on the side of the victor and so could join him in that victory. The god of battle made the rules for the guardian, and there was nothing he could do to circumvent them, no matter how clever he thought he was. The only problem was of course that Lyat would possess a sword of greater power than The Jaguar, but the blade of black was Amadis’s sword, and he would never part with it.

Lyat shrugged his shoulders and reached out to receive the gift. The guardian hesitated for as long as he could, desperate to find a way around the bargain, but eventually relented. He pressed the white handle into Lyat’s palm and Amadis realised he was holding his breath to see what would happen.

Lyat looked at the sword with curiosity and Amadis hoped that his friend did not know of its power. Lyat was an extremely intelligent man. He was so deceptively subtle that many thought him simple, but it was as much his sharp mind as his great strength that got him to the position of power he now held. His intelligence could keep other crime lords, kings and entire countries running in rings while he sat back and ruled them. Now Amadis hoped that his dangerous mind did not include knowledge of ancient weapons or the potential they possessed.

‘Now that we have accepted our sword, we would like to entrust it to you, Arathema, to keep safe.’ The request, as much as the use of the guardian’s true name, threw both men into confusion. Amadis’s tone did not leave room for doubt though; it was a command, not a request. He elaborated, ‘Lyat does not use a sword, and so will give it to you to give to another.’

Lyat said nothing, just eyeing the sword he held and then Amadis. It was a moment of concern because if Lyat knew the true value of the sword, then he would not agree to what Amadis was proposing. He would have to kill his friend to stop him from holding such a dangerous weapon. It was the second time in a short period where Amadis had considered murdering his only friend, but his mind felt clear. He would do what he must. The guardian watched the exchange perplexed, not able to conceive of a man giving away such a powerful weapon, but had to know that Amadis would kill Lyat if he did not. The fact Lyat might not know the power of the sword could be the only thing to save his life.

‘I suppose you are right, Amadis, I do not use a sword so what reason is there for me to keep this?’

‘Thank you, my friend,’ Amadis said and did not realise how much tension he had been holding before relaxing at the words. ‘Arathema, take this sword and bring it to my daughter Eva. I do not doubt you will be able to find her.’ Lyat handed the bone white sword back to the armoured guardian, but he did so cautiously. Once back in his silver hand, the guardian could still not quite grasp what had happened. Amadis did not care. He would do as he was commanded and it was time to leave. ‘Now, bring us to the chamber of mirrors you have created out of the world wounds. We are leaving this place.’

The guardian was still staring at the white sword in his hands with disbelief, and it took Amadis drawing his black sword to break him from his trance. The hollow of his mouth twitched, wanting to speak but not knowing what to say. Amadis had never seen the guardian act like this before. Everything was a game to this creature, always ready with a mocking smile and a clever trick, and Amadis was simply his favourite player.

‘You will return again, my brother?’ The question sounded more like a plea.

‘I will not.’

‘I beg you, become more again and free me.’

‘No.’

There was finality to Amadis’s voice that snapped the guardian out of whatever weakness he was experiencing. He was acting very strangely, but Amadis had greater concerns than the welfare of a beast of Brijnok’s. Some strength returned to the silver skinned face and he spread his hands making the white sword disappear. The hall of pillars and shadow began to vanish with it, Amadis watching as the pillars closest to him bent and twisted down to form arches. It was difficult not to feel alarmed at the distorted perception of his surroundings. He fought back creeping doubts that his mind was crumbling and it took most of his strength to stop from closing his eyes to deny it. Amadis forced himself to watch the world deform, before focusing his gaze on the guardian. The silver skull was smiling at him again.

‘This is not your world either, brother. Do not forget what he did to us.’

The hall of darkness disappeared, and in its place became the maze of archways once more. Where the guardian stood, there was now a stone statue of his image. The echoes of his last words tried to worm their way into Amadis’s mind, to create even more doubts and questions than he already had. He glared at the stone figure until the air in the room became heavy and the statue crushed to dust before his eyes. Lyat slapped his hands together and then clapped one of his palms on Amadis’s back.

‘That felt good,’ Lyat said and Amadis could still feel the weight of his magic making the chamber groan. ‘Now, if it had been a fair fight, and he had not robbed me of my power, I could’ve crushed all nine of those grinning metal bastards into chamber pots to piss in.’

Amadis smiled. With the statue reduced to rubble, he had a clear view of the chamber of mirrors in front. He gave a cursory glance down the other three archways, but it was the room of world wounds that held his attention. These were the doorways that could bring him to where he needed to be, but they did not come without cost. Already he could feel their pull, taking whatever strength he tried to muster. They would take much from him when he walked through, but perhaps they would also take his madness, like the leeching of a festering wound. The thought brought him comfort.

Then his eyes turned cold and he surveyed the mirrors as he would any enemy he was about to conquer. Amadis had seen the world wounds, or cuts, shaped as mirrors before, but they were not always like that. Sometimes they would be a slash through the air, or a whirlpool in the earth or the sky. They were the manifestations of Brijnok’s breach, where the power of the heavens flooded through, but in return they fed on life and flesh. The guardian was wise to place them in a circle to face against each other. The wounds pulled in from everything around them and could be shaped and manipulated to a man’s will if he was strong enough. If a man was not strong enough then he would be devoured absolutely. Amadis and Lyat would lose years from their lives and quite a bit of their power from walking through them, but fortune had it that both he and Lyat had an abundance of power from which to draw. If the world wounds wanted to drink from their strength, then let the things drown.

‘Is this what the rest of the world feels when they stand beside me?’ Lyat asked him with a grin. Amadis did indeed feel similarities to the pull and push of force from the two powers. He could still feel Lyat’s weight pressing down on his shoulders now that the man was no longer attempting to hide it, but the pull from the mirrors was worse. He was almost dragged forward from where he stood.

‘I cannot speak for the world but I will say that I am glad I stand beside you now. Believe me when I offer my gratitude for what you did for me in there.’

Lyat shrugged. ‘All I did was stop you from trying to kill me.’

Now it was Amadis’s turn to smile. ‘Try to kill you?’

Suddenly Amadis was pushed down to one knee, and in alarm was very close to drawing his sword to strike out. Lyat was grinning down at him.

‘Yes, my friend, try to kill me. And do not forget it.’

Amadis stood back up. ‘I will not. Neither will I forget the power you gave up for me. I will find a way to repay you.’

‘You could repay me now by changing your mind and not forcing us to travel by these soul-stealing abominations.’

‘I will not change my mind.’

‘And I did not think you would.’ Lyat sighed. ‘Well if we are to die then it might as well be in the most pain-filled and torturous manner known to us.’

‘It will not kill us.’

‘But you are not denying anything about the pain and torture?’

‘I have been through them twice before and I have never known a pain that is worse.’

‘You warm my heart with every word, Amadis. Come. Let us go to this ice prison so that my heart can be warmed further.’

Amadis nodded. There was no more room for hesitation. He marched forward and stood in the centre of the circle of mirrors. Immediately he could feel each one ripping at him trying to draw greedily from everything he possessed. So he stepped closer to one and he fed to it his will.

‘Aerath,’ he said.

The mirror shifted and colours began forming. Amadis wondered if the world wounds could pierce instead Lae Noan’s cells, or if it was only magic from the world of flesh that could not exist within its walls. What the image showed was a hall of ice with a single throne in its centre. A giant sat on that throne, easily eight feet in height, and wider than Lyat and Amadis combined. He had the bright blond hair and frozen blue eyes of every one of his race, the Prae’surlas, but Aerath’s eyes blazed with power. This was a tyrant who had made his king, and an entire room of Iceborn, kneel to him, the warmaster Drethit and champion Frind’aal among them, and declared himself their new god. That the other gods did not strike him down for heresy said much for his power, but the gods were cowards. They would leave it to Amadis to kill this man and kill him he would.

He turned to Lyat and nodded it was time. They stepped inside the wound.

Chapter 3

Ice

Amadis entered the cut between worlds and immediately his flesh was ripped apart by a thousand hands. Worse, he was robbed of any power he might use to fight it. His mind did not escape the brutal tearing but he was left with enough to recognise the agony that was being inflicted. The pain was nothing that flesh could feel, or that even power could. The pain that ravaged him was piercing directly into his very life. If he had lungs he would scream for death, and if he had hands he would claw through his skull to end the pain. The suffering was more than he could take but it was that he was helpless to do anything about it; that was the torture Amadis felt most.

A floor of ice pressed against his face then. The act itself did not cause pain but the sensation of flesh caused an explosion of pain remembered. His body had not inflicted any damage through the world wound, yet now it desperately tried to reconcile his untouched flesh with the agony just experienced. At least in this reality he had the power to fight it. Amadis forced himself to a stand and drew his sword, ready to deliver death to Aerath. But the cavern of ice was empty, a vacant crystalline throne it’s only occupant.

Hoping the vision of Aerath the mirror had shown was not just a figment of his failing mind, Amadis frowned and balled his fists. He looked around expecting to see something, but all he saw was his reflection in the ice looking back. Amadis turned his gaze down to his friend instead who was still suffering on the floor. Lyat’s entire body was trembling with shock but there was nothing Amadis could do for him. His own limbs wavered unsteadily from the trauma it had been through, but he would stand guard until they were both recovered.

‘Amadis...’ Lyat uttered from where he lay.

‘Do not speak,’ he said back. ‘Concentrate your energy on recovery.’

‘Amadis...’ he insisted on repeating. ‘Do not bring me through those cursed things again.’

‘I will not my friend. You have my word.’

It was never an option to return by means of the cuts. He was not familiar enough with the wounds to hold them open as he could the life-stream. Nor did he wish to become so familiar. No, once they killed Aerath, Amadis would return them both to Amidon City through the life-stream. He would risk one journey and encountering the poison inside, but only because there was no other choice. Since there was the option of getting into Lae Noan by other means, no matter how dangerous, he had taken it. He had no such luxury with getting out.

The ice mountain of Lae Noan was fiercely guarded by the Prae’surlas. It was both a holy shrine where they worshipped and also a prison for the powerful. It had cells that stripped any man, no matter how great, of every shred of power he might possess. No one had ever escaped from there, and no one had ever been released. Everyone who had tried to sneak inside had been swallowed by the mountain, their life becoming part of the ice. And here he ran such a risk by willingly stepping foot inside.

The ice did more than steal your power though. It was not like the world wound where both life and power were swallowed as one. The mountain was different. It preserved life so you could continue to supply it power. For hundreds of years any beings of power who ventured into the lands of Surlas were taken to the mountain as prizes and contained there for the centuries that passed. They were proudly announced to the world as evidence of Prae’surlas superiority. Worse than that, other fool nations sent their criminals there, some that might be too powerful to hold or kill, others that they just wanted to suffer. The mountain gave you eternal life, but it was a life of oblivion. You needed no food or drink, but also no sleep. Try as you might the mountain would not allow it. A single cell was all you would be given, as far removed from any others as they could manage. Preserved for an eternity of nothingness, there was no greater torture that Amadis could imagine.

Looking around at the glistening walls, Amadis began to see more reflections of his own image appear. Some were startlingly clear, and others were skulking shadows. But he did not think they were guards hiding behind the ice, for all the protectors of the prison were stationed outside. It was not supposed to be possible to gain entry by any other means. It created more doubts that Amadis would not be able to leave through the life-stream, that he might become swallowed into the mountain if he tried, but those same doubts created confidence that it must have been Aerath who poisoned him. The mountain was like a carnivorous rock, feeding on magic from the world, and it had spread its roots into the flowing currents of power from the heavens. The mountain Connected itself to the life-stream and Aerath had Connected himself with the mountain.

Amadis looked to the various tunnels leading out of the cavern, leading to the cells where the mountain fed, and he saw phantoms drift in and out of sight in the reflection of the ice. Some held out begging hands to him and others screamed wildly, tearing at their mouths as they did. Amadis turned away. He would not allow his mind to fail him now. Looking to Lyat again, he saw the man still did not rise, although he did look like he was recovering. Amadis attempted to control his patience but began walking around the ice cavern to vent his rising fury. Where was Aerath? Why did he not strike while they were at their weakest, fresh from the cut?

Amadis approached the different tunnels and casually touched his sword to every spirit that was wailing there. It satisfied him that the apparitions were not real, because if they were then The Jaguar would have destroyed them. It still disturbed him though to confirm that the images were his delusions. He should keep his attention to protecting Lyat until he was recovered, it would focus his mind. Amadis turned back to where Lyat lay, only to find a figure standing above him.

This was no illusion and Amadis’s rage was so sudden that he struggled with the need to rush forward and kill the god there and then.

‘Kill him, Brijnok, and know no end to my vengeance!’ Amadis roared. ‘I will follow you to the heavens and slay you there!’

But the man standing by Lyat spread his hands out in peace. He was even unarmed. Amadis had never seen the creature without an obscene decoration of weaponry draped about his body. He had dark hair pulled back in mimicry of Amadis, with a white streak where a single scar ran from his mouth up over his ear and behind his head. Brijnok - the self-proclaimed First God - the god of battle, smiled at him, his scar making it look grotesque. Amadis often wondered why a god so vain about his weapons would not change his appearance. But then Amadis did not care a whit for the mind of Brijnok.

The battle god often attempted to trouble the great Amadis, pathetically trying to test him with words and gifts rather than facing him in battle. Although Amadis did not consider himself a god, nor did he wish to be, he still knew as Brijnok knew: that he could kill one if he wished. The more he considered Brijnok the angrier he became. Other gods remained in their heavens and protected the lands of their worshippers in return for the worship that they gave. But Brijnok did not, and in his vanity he claimed all lands. He walked the earth and meddled in the lives of fleshborn out of petty amusement. He would grant some poor farmer a great power and set him off on a murderous rampage just to celebrate in the carnage it would create. The guardian was his creature, offering similar gifts for the same results, and Brijnok was likely here to mock Amadis for turning down the white sword.

‘Amadis, my brother,’ Brijnok said. ‘You offend me to think I would kill a man without cause.’

Must everyone call me brother this day? I have no brother.

‘Do not call me brother and your mere presence is enough to offend me, Brijnok. Be gone before I finally kill you, or worse, before I throw you into one of Lae Noan’s cells. This magic is older than even you, First God, and it will hold you without discrimination.’

The idea of a god trapped inside Lae Noan was one that pleased Amadis, but he would not become distracted by it. Lyat rose to his hands and knees then, and Amadis lifted his sword to order Brijnok to step back. The god of battle did so with a grin as Lyat the Destroyer of Armies stumbled weakly forward. Once Lyat was behind Amadis, the god spoke again.

‘You intrigue me, Amadis, risking so much to come here. You refuse my guardian’s gift, you decimate your power by travelling through the cuts, and you then risk capture into one of these cells that, as you have said, can hold anyone regardless of their... supremacy.’

He bowed in mockery as he spoke that last word. Amadis longed to speed forward and kill the god but he knew Brijnok would vanish the moment he attacked. He was also concerned about Aerath’s absence. The man claiming to be an ice god would have to know of their presence, more so now that Brijnok had deemed to join them. But why did he not act? Did he fear the god of battle or did he belong to him?

‘You risk more coming here, unarmed, as a vulnerable thing of flesh. Do you not fear this Aerath as the other gods must. Tell me, god of battle, where is Aerune while this Iceborn commits blasphemy?’ Aerune was the real god of the moon and ice, while Aerath was the older name from the dead god of ages past. Brijnok’s face darkened at the question though and Amadis became curious. ‘You do not know, do you? The question of why Aerath’s heresy is left unpunished is one beyond your heavenly omniscience.’

‘Aerath is a man of flesh. Why should he concern the gods?’ Brijnok tried but Amadis did not believe him. ‘Why I bother concerning myself with you is a better question to ask. But perhaps I am here to watch this Aerath put an end to your arrogance. You have not been yourself lately, Amadis, have you? Are you seeing places that are not there? Remembering things that no longer exist?’

‘You have done this to me!’ Amadis threw the accusation wishing it were his blade, but as he formed the words, he knew they did not ring true. Brijnok was many things, but to kill an enemy by poison was abhorrent to him. He did not see pragmatism or cunning as a weapon as others did; Brijnok’s weapons were never so subtle.

The scarred god laughed. ‘You have done this to yourself. You have seen fit to become a tyrant to the world, in the pretence of ridding the world of others like you. You are not maintaining peace with your slaughter; you are only denying freedom, eliminating your competitors so that your rule may be eternal. And you claim to hate the gods. At least this Aerath has the honesty to proclaim his divinity, instead of denying it. Come, brother, claim your rightful place at my side, and we will slay all our adversaries together.’

Amadis’s patience had run out. He did not care if Aerath was laying a trap here and that Brijnok was the bait. He could stomach no more time in the god’s presence.

‘Leave my sight now, Brijnok, or challenge me to battle.’

Amadis felt Lyat reposition himself behind him. His power would certainly aid in this fight, but there was the danger Lyat would bring down the mountain on top of them. If Brijnok fled to the heavens, would Amadis risk travelling the poisoned life-stream to follow? For every tyrant he killed in this world, there were always a thousand more with a willing ear for Brijnok’s whisper. If he could finally remove the god, remove all the gods; then the world would be right. The echoes of that thought resonated from another age, when the great destroyer did just that. Memories flickered and vanished in his vision, and Amadis held back panic, praying that his mind would not leave him now. But to whom did he pray? The gods?

‘Oh how loud the dog barks to the master that feeds him,’ Brijnok said back with a sneer. ‘You test my patience too far, brother. When Aerath feeds you to his mountain, do not think I will come to your aid.’

Amadis relaxed but kept his contempt fresh in his voice. ‘I will not, as you clearly cower from this Aerath as much as you cower from me. Remember, First God, that you gave this power to us. You gave us this strength that you now tremble from with fear. Would that you never breached the heavens and cursed our world with gods again. I dream of a day where we return to a world without you.’

Brijnok did not lash back with further posturing as Amadis expected. His face did not curl up with the familiar snarl of disdain he had been the cause of so often. Instead there was a look of consideration upon the god of battle. When his eyes met Amadis’s they seemed to be searching for something. Apparently he did not find whatever he had been looking for and then gave his mocking half-smile.

‘Perhaps one day we shall indeed return to that time. But for now I wish you fortune in your endeavours. May all your enemies die screaming, brother.’

Brijnok vanished and left Amadis standing in a daze of lost memory. He had heard that saying before but from whom? Why did the battle god now mock him with it?

‘Amadis,’ Lyat said with urgency, ‘the tunnels.’

Amadis turned and saw the shadows still dancing in his vision, gathering in greater numbers, the spectres of tormented souls lost to the mountain.

‘You see them too?’

‘Of course,’ Lyat said, and frowned. ‘Amadis, I know enough that Brijnok’s tongue is his sharpest blade, but he spoke of your... changes. Will you tell me now, what has happened to you? Why you have become so distracted? Losing control, even with me?’

I am losing more than my control, Amadis thought. He looked earnestly at his friend but watched as a scar grew out of Lyat’s mouth. It trailed a streak a white as it made its way through Lyat’s beard and up over his ear. Brijnok’s twisted smile looked back from Lyat’s face and already Amadis’s mind was falling too swiftly. He saw movement then from one of the tunnels, the flash of blond hair and white tunic of an Iceborn. The figure fled and Amadis would have dismissed it if Lyat’s head had not shot in that direction also.

‘I need to kill Aerath, Lyat, or all is lost.’ It was the best he could give.

Lyat let out a long breath, deciding whether to demand more while Amadis was so weak. Venturing into this mountain risked more than life, and Lyat deserved the truth.

‘I have never known an Iceborn to flee from anything,’ Lyat said instead. ‘He is leading us into a trap.’

‘We must follow him.’

‘I could destroy this mountain now and force him to come to us.’

‘This mountain is sacred to the Prae’surlas. If we destroyed it, I would need to kill every last one of them before peace could return to the world.’

‘More sacred than killing their new god?’ Lyat countered.

‘They can claim he ascended to the heavens, taking his ambitions to turn the world to ice with him.’

‘Will they claim the same for us when we are swallowed by this mountain?’

‘Come,’ Amadis said, ‘together, what enemy could defeat us?’

Lyat did not seem mollified but he followed loyally as Amadis ventured into the tunnel of ice. The phantoms began to fade and it was not long before they saw a corridor of cells stretch out before them, with sheets of blue ice acting as doors against the pure white of the walls. Amadis knew the doors were Prae’surlas magic layered on top the older power of the mountain. Any magic inside those cells would feed straight to the mountain, but the ice outside created sufficient barriers to anyone within, stripped of all their strength. They walked carefully down the tunnel, eyeing the empty cells without any doors of ice, and eyeing the small barred windows that had been given to those that did. One door interested Amadis, in that it had no window, but clearly the blue of ice rather than the white of the walls. It was curious they would create one cell with a prisoner so dangerous that not even a window was allowed. It was the empty ones that Amadis was wary of though, both that they could hide enemies and that they could take away everything from him. His mind was already trying to do that, but if he could just kill Aerath...

Three giants stepped out from empty cells ahead, all clad in