Darker Matter Book II - Wildfire

By J N Lowther

The Dyroshin fear that their most dreaded prophecy did not conclude when the Destroyer of Worlds and the Outlander clashed in an epic magical battle that destroyed the rift between worlds. But before its destruction, an immensely powerful being from a malign conquering race born of Black Metal found its way through the portal.

Now the Five Lands are again under threat but this time from two foes of unimaginable might. There is only one weapon that may be effective, but it has been lost in antiquity and the very quest for its discovery is perilous and becomes a desperate fight for survival.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Jul 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781035810994

J N Lowther

In the second book in the Darker Matter trilogy, J N Lowther draws upon his extensive martial arts experience for the fight scenes. Jim is a financial planner and lives with his wife in the leafy county of Cornwall in the UK.

Book preview

About the Author

In the second book in the Darker Matter trilogy, J N Lowther draws upon his extensive martial arts experience for the fight scenes. Jim is a financial planner and lives with his wife in the leafy county of Cornwall in the UK.

Dedication

For those who act on their dreams

Copyright Information ©

J N Lowther 2023

The right of J N Lowther to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781035810987 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781035810994 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

It is said that whosoever wields the Black Metal, draws on the very energy that gave birth to the stars, and in so doing will bring about their destruction, and lay waste to all that is, all that was, and all that is yet to be.

From an ancient Dyroshin text.

Prologue

The Dark Forest slumbered. Slowly expanding in size, its mighty trees grew, and their offspring greedily sent down roots, deeper and deeper, feeding on the lush nutrients that lay beyond the reach of other plants and trees. Smaller and non-native trees were quickly crowded out until all that remained was a single species. Tall, long lived, and strong, their dense canopy allowed little light to pass through, shrouding the forest in a preternatural gloom. Just enough light escaped the grasp of the canopy to provide meagre sustenance for a few species of dark-leaved shrubs, and the hardiest of grasses to survive. Few animals strayed into the forest, and those that did were soon assimilated by it.

As the forest grew, the roots of the trees forming its periphery by chance dug into the ceiling of an underground cavern that was filled with water. But this was no ordinary water. It had percolated through a vein of the purest White Metal from rains that had fallen countless eons ago. During its slow osmosis, the White Metal imbued the water with its potency, changing it in the process and endowing it with its magical power. The water absorbed this energy, trapping it deep within the bonds between the elements that formed its substance. But these bonds were delicate, making the water volatile.

The hungry roots of the trees absorbed the transformed water, and as it flowed upwards through the mighty trees, it released its magic into every branch, leaf, and bud. The cavern was vast, containing countless decalitres of magically infused water. Soon, the roots of other trees that lay deeper in the forest, sent out their tendril like roots towards the cavern.

Outwardly the trees of the Dark Forest appeared the same as they always had, but inwardly they began to change, transformed by the magic that surged through them. Becoming more than they were before.

***

It has long been argued by Dyroshin academics, that trees possess a simple intelligence. Those of the Dyroshin with innate empathic magic, have told of a brushing against their senses that they sometimes, albeit rarely, feel when amongst ancient trees. The trees of the Dark Forest had such intelligence. It was born of need and survival and was a primitive instinct that enabled individual trees to share basic information with the forest about the location of sources of nutrition. In many ways it was akin to honeybees returning to the hive and imparting their knowledge of rich feeding grounds to the hive in the form of an elaborate dance. But there the similarity ended. The tree’s communication was more subtle, telepathic almost, if such a thing could exist in an organism without a mind. But there the academics were divided. Some argued that individual trees were the constituent parts that formed a collective consciousness, giving rise to a kind of hive-mind. Others believed this notion to be preposterous and dismissed it out of hand. Empaths, however, were not so quick to judge.

***

As impossible as it should have been, the magic the forest had absorbed from the White Metal, had somehow fused the life force of each tree together, forming a collective.

Deep within the forest the collective coalesced and a hive-mind slowly began to form, fuelled and strengthened by the vast amounts of magic that the forest was absorbing.

The hive-mind grew in strength and gradually became self-aware.

As the awareness of the Dark Forest grew, it began to systematically send out root tendrils, probing the lands surrounding it and the soil beneath it, in its insatiable hunt for further sources of magic.

White Metal is extremely rare and was sought after long before even the histories of the Five Lands of Zandyros were first recorded. Over the centuries, the lands had been scoured and deep mines sunk into the ground in an effort to find even the smallest amounts of this most precious of ores. Mostly this had been to little or no effect, except for the Renshaw Mine which is now firmly under the control of the state.

The Dark Forest had an affinity with White Metal, born of the metamorphosis that it had undergone when its roots had first drawn on the magically enriched water. When the water within the cavern had become exhausted, the insatiable forest sent its root tendrils out further and further, and deeper and deeper into the ground, until it found other sources of White Metal.

These were much smaller in size than the cavern, but the magic was strong and its very presence, even miles away, called out its siren song to the forest.

Those that say that the Dark Forest moves are incorrect, but it does expand and is drawn towards deposits of White Metal. As the ore was formed at the beginning of time, the richer deposits lay many leagues deep within the ground. Once a vein of White Metal is found, the forest will send roots deeper and deeper until all of it is found. Where there is no water surrounding a deposit, the trees send out more and more tendrils until the White Metal is completely encased in a network of hungry roots. In doing so, the trees can absorb power directly from the White Metal itself, until all magic has been exhausted from the ore. A single sapling is left to mark the location of the depleted ore.

The exhausted White Metal absorbs magic from the surrounding land, replacing that which it has lost. This is a slow process that can take many centuries. The tree that is left behind has its roots sunk deep into the depleted ore, and when the ore regains its potency, the tree signals this to the hive-mind of the forest. In this way the Dark Forest effectively farms an area, consumes the magic and stores the rest within its mighty boughs. Its roots then move on to new pastures, returning centuries later to reap once again the harvest of the White Metal that had laid fallow and had now recharged itself.

***

For countless eons, the Dark Forest slept. But as its awareness grew, its slumber was punctuated by a form of primitive dreaming. But these were no ordinary dreams. They showed the forest that which happened within its demesne, and glimpses of the world outside. It was as if the forest itself had eyes and could see such things. As its intelligence grew, its awareness became self-obsessed and malign. Its whole existence was predicated on its survival, and that was all that mattered, was all that there was.

To fuel its increasing size, the Dark Forest’s appetite soon outgrew the magic that the occasional meagre vein of White Metal was able to provide. It could sense small amounts of magic inside the animals and plants within its perimeter. The forest had no knowledge, no words to understand that what it was sensing was the innate magic that all manifestations of life contained within. All the forest knew was that this was another form of magic and would help it to grow still further. Other life-forms were as nothing to it and served no other purpose than to fuel its insatiable appetite for growth.

The leaves of the mighty trees of the Dark Forest used the light from the blue star that gave life to the land, and the magic of the White Metal, to produce a toxin that it released into the air. Any animal that came into contact with it, would quickly fall into a stupor and lose consciousness. Fast growing roots would break the surface of the soil within moments and wrap themselves around the unaware prey, constricting like the coils of some great snake until the animal was dead. Much finer tendrils would take their place, covering the animal in a filigree of roots. The feeding would then begin. Nothing of the animal would remain when the tendrils were later withdrawn.

***

It wasn’t until the searching root tendrils of the Dark Forest chanced upon the smallest fragment of Black Metal, that it was changed forever. The power in the particle was immeasurably more potent than the sum total of all the magic that it had ever absorbed from White Metal. It was then that the Dark Forest awoke from its slumber.

The Black Metal fragment had come from the forging of the great amulet wielded by Jal Chindo. Little is known about this tyrannical ruler from antiquity, except that he showed little mercy to any that failed in their service to his reign. It is likely that one of the craftsmen who made the amulet stole a small amount of the material for his own benefit and hid it. Jal Chindo may not have been aware of this act of treason, but Dyroshin clerics are certain of one thing; he would have killed all those who had access to the Black Metal once their work had been completed. So, this stolen fragment had remained hidden, unclaimed until the searching roots of the Dark Forest found it centuries later. A further metamorphosis, wrought by the inexorable might of the Black Metal, made the ancient forest sentient.

Chapter 1

Aftermath

Are you alright buddy? A concerned voice called through the pain of his injuries.

Where am I? The other’s voice, a guttural rasp.

You look terrible, mate; have you been attacked? Do you want me to call you an ambulance?

His pain receded a little as Zoryn Dakor stood up and shook his head to clear his vision. I asked you, where am I? He demanded as he grabbed the man by the throat and lifted him off his feet. Don’t make me fucking ask you again. The zig-zagged, orangey-red coronas of his eyes blazed with dreadful might. Black dots crowded the man’s vision, but he could see the man that held him in a vice-like grip. He must have been easily six foot four tall, with jet black hair and was powerfully built. Helpless in his grip, the man lost consciousness as his assailant dropped him unceremoniously to the ground.

Zoryn Dakor was diminished from his battle with Bradley White and he knew it. The familiar feeling of power that came from the Black Metal that had become a part of his body was still there, he could sense its presence, but it was greatly reduced. He was still more than a match for anyone on this world, but his magic had been drained in the battle with White. He was beyond furious, he was incandescent with rage and had White been in front of him, he wouldn’t have needed his magic and would have ripped him apart with his bare hands.

Zoryn played the events over and over again in his mind. His forced translocation to White’s home-world had been beyond his control, and White’s use of the Black Metal had robbed him of much of his own power. He was left dizzied, weakened, and dazed, and had no real sense of when it had happened. It could have been moments ago, hours ago, or even millennia ago, for all he knew. The nature of the transportation had that effect and he had never quite got used to it. But the fact that he had been transported at all and against his will, was just not possible, it shouldn’t have been fucking possible. Somehow, White had turned his magic, his own might, against him and had sent him to this accursed place. Zoryn was certain that White had died in the conflagration, nobody could have survived it, but this gave him no comfort. His death would have been too easy, and he was furious that it hadn’t been at his hands.

He closed his eyes to clear his mind and reached out to Zandyros. His innate magic brought the image of his world to him in exquisite detail. But unlike before, this time he could not feel its presence. It was an image, an image that he had created, nothing more than that, and try as he might, he couldn’t find the thread, the link that he could use to find his way home. This meant that the portal had been destroyed and he was stuck in this world, a world without magic and he had no hope of returning to his own world.

Despite the disorientation that followed translocation between worlds, Zoryn was quickly able to recognise his surroundings. He had materialised in the village that he and Kaiya had made their base months earlier. Fortunately, his arrival had not been witnessed by anybody, but they must have heard the thunder that always followed such a massive release of magic. There was no one else nearby, and the man who had approached him earlier had run away as soon as he regained consciousness and was unlikely to return.

Zoryn was in pain and desperately tired. He had not experienced tiredness since he had joined with the Black Metal, and pain until now had also been a distant memory. The pain he was feeling seemed to be everywhere at once, and yet no place that was clear to identify. As a soldier he was trained to make a rapid assessment of any injury, because in a battle your life depended on it. Normally the extraordinary recuperative powers of Black Metal would have taken the edge off any pain, and he would be feeling his strength returning already. But not in his diminished state. He was struggling to stay on his feet and wings of blackness were starting to crowd his peripheral vision. Zoryn knew that he had to make it back to the rooms above the abandoned chemist shop so that he could rest and recover away from prying eyes.

Drawing what little magic he could muster; he used its power to give him the strength that he needed to make the short walk to the shop. As he did so, his gaze fell to the ground in front of him and it was then that he noticed some fragments of a black substance by his feet. He stooped to pick them up, ignoring the pain, and with some difficulty he straightened up.

There were three pieces of the material, each no more than a fragment, the largest one being little bigger than a small pebble. As he rolled them in his hand to get a better look at them, one of the smaller pieces turned to black dust. The two remaining pieces were black, dull in appearance and felt insubstantial to his touch, almost like cinders. Despite its depleted state, Zoryn instinctively knew that he held Black Metal in his hands. What once had been puissant was now lifeless and cold, bereft of the magic it had once contained.

These were fragments of the Black Metal knife that Draxan Longseer had fashioned to be the instrument of Sanjin Dakor’s death. The blade had cut through Sanjin’s White Metal armour chest-plate as if it wasn’t there, and Zoryn’s plan to rid the Five Lands of his brother’s reign had been realised. But Bradley White had somehow discovered the power of the blade, and with the help of the traitor Garan Smithson throwing the knife to him, White had turned the power of the magic of the Black Metal against him.

White couldn’t possibly have known that smashing the knife would release the pent-up magical power it had absorbed from Zoryn’s relentless attacks against him. The knife itself shouldn’t have shattered, as Black Metal was the strongest substance that Zoryn had ever encountered. And yet it had shattered, and as it did so the magic it released was wild and totally unconstrained, like the time he himself had first used Black Metal and created the rift between worlds. It was a desperate act, by a desperate man who couldn’t possibly have predicted the outcome. With the portal to White’s world already open, the force of the explosion hurled Zoryn into its gaping maw. The resulting conflagration closed the portal with the precision of a surgeon suturing an open wound. However, pieces of the Black Metal knife had accompanied Zoryn’s translocation. Maybe that was how the portal was closed. The dying fragments of Black Metal on either side of the portal, must have drawn unimaginable power from the vortex, which was then released in a final conflagration collapsing Dakor’s Darkness and sealing Zoryn’s fate.

If there was any magic remaining in the Black Metal fragments that he held in his hands, it would not be enough to get him home. His anger threatened to overwhelm him as he tightened his grip on the fragments, ready to crush them, but something stopped him and he decided to hold on to them, at least until he was rested and could think clearer. Closing his hand gently around the fragments, to protect them from further damage, Zoryn Dakor fought a wave of vertigo and headed in the direction of the old chemist shop.

***

It was agreed with his tutors, that David White could take as long out from his degree in Medical Science as he needed to give him time to recover from the physical and mental effects of his ordeal. Outwardly, he seemed to be making remarkable progress; the swelling had all but gone from his damaged hands and he had some sensation back, but he would never regain the full use of his hands. He was told by his consultant that it would take at least three more operations and months of physiotherapy before he would regain some degree of dexterity, but it would be limited. David knew without being told, that he would never have the fine control necessary to wield a scalpel, and his long-held dream of being a surgeon was over.

He had temporarily moved back to his parent’s house. It made sense as it was much closer to the hospital which meant that he could visit his mother during her stay in the hospital. Although she had awakened from the coma, she was still very weak.

David had no idea what was going on in his father’s life. He had disappeared shortly after he and his mother had been admitted to hospital. His father had killed the man who had attacked them, and he was now on the run. David didn’t blame him, the brute who had attacked them deserved to be dead, but the thought that his father carried out this act of vengeance, was almost as traumatic to him as the attack itself had been.

Before this, David would never have thought it possible that his father was capable of killing anyone. But he had changed in some fundamental way and was not the same man that David had known all his life. The Bradley White who had visited him in hospital, all those months ago, looked dangerous in some way, like he was capable of anything, and was certainly capable of killing a scumbag like Raymond Oliver.

David suspected that his father was involved in something far more sinister. Who was the man with the strange eyes who masqueraded as a doctor when I was in the hospital? Did I really hear my father’s voice when the man came into my room and threatened me? My father wasn’t in the room, but the doctor seemed to be talking to us both. If it was real, then what the fuck has dad got himself into? Or was it just some vivid dream, some hallucination? A side effect from all the painkillers and the infection? There’s no way that it could have been real, could it?

These thoughts plagued David’s every waking moment. Restful sleep was denied to him. When he did manage to fall asleep, he had the same dream every time. Except it wasn’t a dream, it was a nightmare in which he relived the attack, over and over again. He would see his mother being hit by Raymond Oliver and falling to the ground, limp and unmoving. As he threw himself at her attacker, to defend them both, his blows would bounce off the man, his efforts were ineffective, useless, and did nothing to prevent the inevitable outcome. He was powerless to protect his mother at a time when she desperately needed his help. Oliver looked at him, those strange eyes burning into him, his face contorted into a hideous and savage grin. Lifting a fist, like a stonemason’s hammer, he struck David in the face with a bone-splintering punch. Then everything went black. At this point, the nightmare became unbearable even to his unconscious mind and David would awake, hyperventilating and drenched in sweat. He would not be able to get back to sleep for the remainder of the evening. More often than not, he was too afraid to even close his eyes, fearing that the dream would come back to haunt him, and it always did.

David was discharged from hospital after two weeks to begin an exhaustive round of outpatient treatment. He had developed an infection during the first week he had been in hospital that proved to be resistant to the standard antibiotics. The hospital had managed to keep the infection under control, but it remained. His doctors believed that he would grow stronger at home with rest and that his body would start to fight the infection itself. The outpatient visits were to monitor the infection and to check that it didn’t get any worse. The words of the strange man who had threatened him in hospital kept playing themselves over and over in his mind. And as ridiculous as it seemed to him, he couldn’t help but think that his infection had something to do with this man. He tried to dismiss the thought as being a figment of his fevered imagination, but he just couldn’t let it go.

***

It was almost exactly nine weeks after the attack, that David got a call from the hospital to say that his mother had woken-up from her coma. Strangely, the angry red skin of his damaged hands, which was evidence of the barely controlled infection, regained its normal colour and the infection disappeared at exactly the same time as his mother’s recovery. Another coincidence? David was not convinced that it was.

Gina White was sat-up in bed when her son entered her hospital room. Oblivious to the nursing staff that were present, David dragged a chair to his mother’s bedside, took her hands in his own damaged hands, and wept.

I’m so sorry mum, he managed to gasp between sobs, I let you down, I couldn’t protect you from that man.

There was nothing you could have done David, Gina’s voice barely a whisper as she was still getting used to being able to talk again, there was nothing that anyone could have done. It wasn’t just that man that we were up against David.

I don’t understand mum, what do you mean?

There is so much to tell you that I don’t really know where to begin, and this isn’t the right time or place. I’m so tired David, get me out of here, I want to go home.

Gina was discharged from hospital two weeks after waking-up from her coma. Although she had made a seemingly miraculous recovery, the doctors wanted to keep her in for longer. But Gina was adamant that if she wasn’t released she would discharge herself, so they relented. Apart from some muscle atrophy, which was to be expected after nearly nine weeks without moving, she was in remarkably good shape physically. Mentally however, all was not quite so good. Unlike David, she was not reliving the horror of the attack every time she closed her eyes, but she was mourning the loss of her husband. She told her son about the events that preceded the attack and how his father had become involved with a being from another reality who had magical powers. Even though David had seen this man for himself, he found the story incredulous, and he worried about her mental health. But at the same time, for reasons that he could not explain, he felt that there may be some truth to the story as bizarre as it sounded.

David had a very scientific brain, and Gina knew that he did not believe her, but he was the only person that she could share this with. David at least, would listen to her. He told her that it had to have been a vivid dream that she had during the coma. But there was a questioning in the look that he gave her, that only a mother could detect, which convinced her that in some part at least, he believed what she told him. What does he know that he isn’t telling me? She often thought. But when she asked him directly, he would change the subject abruptly. Gina knew that her son was struggling with what had happened and that he retreated into logic. It was a shield that he used to protect his mental health. He wasn’t ready to face the truth and she loved him too much to cause him any more hurt.

Gina realised that anyone listening to her story would almost certainly think that she was stark raving mad, besides, what was the point in telling people anyway? There was nothing that they could do to bring her husband back, there was nothing that anyone could do.

Despite her recent infidelity, Gina loved Brad, and the thought that she would never see him again was almost impossible to bear. She didn’t know if he was alive or dead, which made closure of any real kind impossible. What she did know, was that the link that they had shared while she lay in the hospital bed, was gone. It was the severing of the link that had roused her from the coma, released her from its hold. When she awoke, she felt the loss of her only link to her husband keenly.

The police interviewed her several times before she left the hospital. To be fair to them, they treated her with as much sensitivity as was possible, but they were now investigating three matters, all of which revolved around her. There was her attack and rape by Raymond Oliver, his subsequent murder which was almost certainly at the hands of her husband who was now on the run and had vanished without a trace. And then there was the fact that she had become pregnant whilst under the care of the hospital, while she was in a coma. This led physicians to believe that she had been raped a second time. The police had very little to go on and Gina could add little of any value to their investigation. During the attack, Raymond Oliver hit her, and the force of the blow had knocked her unconscious. From that moment on until she came out of the coma, she had no memories other than her meetings with her husband in the strange forest.

Despite the impossibility of everything that Brad had told her during these meetings, she never once doubted that the events that he described were real and that a part of her at least was actually there with him in that strange forest when they spoke. Their meetings were too vivid, too real to be a dream, even though the forest itself was strange and ethereal. And there was a consistency throughout that separated these meetings from the possibility that they could be dreams. Not for a single minute did she believe that it was all a product of her fevered imagination while in the coma.

What puzzled Gina was that she was certain that they had not been together in any physical sense when they met in the forest. She believed they had joined in spirit, somehow their consciousnesses had connected over an incalculable distance and that what each saw was a representation of the other, an avatar. She had been convinced of this from their first meeting and right up to the last time that they had been together. But the last time had been different. They had made love and it was real. The touch of his body against hers was real. She had felt him inside her and felt the completion of their love making. And then there was the matter of her pregnancy.

Gina did not believe that she had been raped in hospital. Somehow, she knew that she carried Brad’s daughter, even before her consultant had told her that she was pregnant. And she knew beyond any doubt, that she was not pregnant with her rapist’s child. So, when she had met with Brad in the forest, there must have been a physical connection.

Another thing that was puzzling Gina was where was this forest? It couldn’t have been a construct of their minds, because if it had, then their perceptions of where they met would be different? But they had both described the forest in the same way. And surely, if they had constructed the forest in their minds and somehow shared the same thought, wouldn’t they have made it somewhere nicer, friendlier, a safe place to meet? The forest, however, was none of these things. It stank of decay, felt sinister, malign even, and Zoryn Dakor had hunted her down in the forest and the fear that he could return was ever-present.

So where was this place? Gina had never bothered much with science at school but doubted that the laws of physics applied much when magic was involved. She was certain that the forest was a physical place and did exist. But she was equally certain that it was not on Earth. She dismissed the possibility that it was a gateway between worlds, because if such a place existed at all, surely it wouldn’t take the form of a forest? No, it had to be a place on the world that Brad had been transported to, but if that was the case then how could she have gone there? The impossibility that Brad had been transported to another world was a reality that she accepted without question, but that she had somehow been to that world as well, and on more than one occasion, maybe was also possible. And yet…

Chapter 2

Hania

Where do you plan to take him? Asked the slender, brown-eyed woman who sat next to Velhanna in the driver’s seat of the small horse drawn merchant’s carriage as it wound its way through the fertile farming belt that bordered the garrison city of Gaardsholme. Katzin was the head of the House of Secrets and lover of Sanjin Dakor. As was befitting her position she was confident, extremely intelligent, and very streetwise. She was also stunningly beautiful, with slender limbs and resembled her arch-rival Kaiya Dakor. In truth they had more than just physical looks in common, both were strong women who were self-assured and independent. But it was there that the similarities ended. Katzin was loyal with a strong sense of duty and Kaiya was not. For Kaiya, her ambition and determination had been corrupted by her obsession with power and she was ruthless and manipulative.

They briefly stopped when they were a safe distance outside the city gates, away from prying eyes, and removed the tarpaulin that covered Bradley White. They gently rolled him onto some meagre bedding that was about all that the cart contained.

I will take him to Garan Smithson’s house, Velhanna said, his niece lives there. She’s an empath with extraordinary healing powers and probably the only person that can help him without risk to herself.

I don’t follow you?

I’m sure that in your position, Katzin, confidant of Kings, you know that Zoryn had acquired Black Metal?

Ah! Now I see what you mean. So, does this Bradley White have Black Metal inside him like Zoryn did? I thought that the knife was the only other piece of the stuff.

He does. Zoryn implanted some into him and used its magic to transport him to our world, believing that he would not gain mastery over it. But he did, and that is how he was able to stand up to Zoryn, and I believe that its remaining magic is what is keeping him alive. I would normally expect its magic to heal and rejuvenate him, but I suspect that his struggle with Zoryn was such that even the might of the Black Metal was depleted.

But won’t Smithson’s niece suffer the same fate that Sanjin’s physicians did when they attempted to use magic to heal his accursed brother? Katzin’s grief at losing her lover was only surpassed by her hatred of Zoryn Dakor.

"No, I don’t believe that she is at risk. We have seen glimpses in our visions that would suggest that there is some link between them. We believe that he has some form of innate magic that is alien to us and which he is unaware of. Or at least he was until he was brought to our world. Hania has healed him before when he spent time as her uncle’s guest. Had the Black Metal within him behaved the way it had when similar aid was bestowed upon Zoryn Dakor, she would be dead. Yusana has experienced the draining effect when she used magic in the Outlander’s presence. So why Hania seems to be unaffected is a mystery to me at this time although I suspect it has something to do with their innate magic. But as crazy as it sounds, I am beginning to think that it could even be something as simple as sentiment that protects her."

How do you mean?

They are in love with each other!

And this protects her how? Katzin asked.

We know that the magic of the Black Metal has come to the Outlander’s aid on many occasions without his attempt to summon it when his life has been in danger. It is possible that it may also respond to strong feelings and emotions. What emotion could be stronger than love?

Indeed!

I also wonder what would happen if they ever had children together? The mix of magics would be, to say the very least, interesting!

Velhanna! Katzin admonished the leader of the Dyroshin, have you become a matchmaker?

Ha! Velhanna responded, caring for the Outlander will give Hania something to distract her from grieving over the death of her uncle. He may have been a hard man and not easy to like, but they were remarkably close.

That’s exceedingly kind and thoughtful of you Velhanna! I never knew that the Dyroshin were so sentimental?

You know my people well Katzin, Mistress of The House of Secrets, and understand that our interest in their relationship goes deeper than the Outlander’s welfare. You will also know why I cannot tell you more at this time.

Yes, I understand. I know that you and Yusana serve the Five Lands in ways that can never be repaid or even publicly acknowledged. Sanjin himself has told me as much. You serve the kingdom best by not being visible.

As do you Katzin.

There may not be similarities in the work that we do, but I believe us to be broadly on the same side.

Broadly? The wise leader of the Dyroshin cocked an eyebrow appraisingly.

We both deal in secrets, do we not? And those that do never reveal their hand to the other. It is not in our nature to do so.

Well said! So, what about you? Velhanna asked, steering the conversation away from an inevitable impasse. What will you do now?

I will travel between the Houses and will blend into the background like I always have. As far as those who remain in Gaardsholme are concerned, I will be just another missing person, presumed dead, in the explosion that laid waste to the King’s Court.

I believe that is wise Katzin. The House of Secrets has many establishments, and it should be relatively easy for you to keep a low profile. The destruction back in Gaardsholme was so complete that the truth of what happened will be known to only a very few people, and these were loyal to Zoryn. With Sanjin dead and Zoryn missing, there is a power vacuum. You are right to observe from a distance. Now is a time to separate oneself and see how it all plays out. It is a dangerous time for anyone who was loyal to Sanjin.

There are hints and clues in your words that lead me to believe that you know what will happen, but you give nothing away! Said Katzin.

And neither would you, Mistress of Secrets, Daughter of Intrigue!

Okay, fair enough. These are dangerous times and we have yet to earn the full trust of each other.

I can tell you this much Katzin, Velhanna replied, this is far from over. The glimpses of what may, or may not come to pass, that were revealed to us in visions, showed a branching of possibilities at this juncture.

Go on, implored Katzin.

I am not convinced that Zoryn Dakor is dead and that his story is over. The Outlander Bradley White remains in our world, although he hovers between life and death, and that was not foreseen. But his being here is significant, of that I am certain. For now, his part in all this is over, but I am convinced that he will be called on again to defend the Five Lands.

And what will he defend the Five Lands against?

That is what I intend to find out.

***

Yusana was sat in the back of the small carriage and had been silent since she and Velhanna had saved Katzin from the slaughter in the King’s Court. They had managed to escape shortly after Zoryn murdered his brother. The visions of the Dyroshin had brought them to this place and point in time, and although they did not know who would prevail in the battle between the Outlander and the Destroyer of Worlds, they knew that they had no place in the confrontation itself other than to preserve the life of Katzin and to take her someplace safe.

This interpretation of the visions, and there had been many, ultimately preserved their lives as they would have perished had they remained in the King’s Court when Bradley White took on the might of Zoryn Dakor and closed the portal between their worlds known as Dakor’s Darkness.

Yusana and Velhanna had used their magic to enter the King’s Court to witness the trial of the Outlander. This was the moment that their visions had been building up to, and they knew that the fate of the Five Lands hinged for good or ill, on what would happen there.

They hadn’t expected two factions of the Elite Guard to be pitted against each other, one loyal to Sanjin and the other to Zoryn. Katzin would have been killed had they not intervened, and although the Dyroshin rarely involved themselves directly in these matters, their visions led them to believe that she was to play a key role in the future of the Five Lands. It was important that she lived to fulfil her destiny.

Velhanna was far enough away from Bradley White and Zoryn Dakor to safely use her magic to freeze time. Yusana rushed over to Katzin and using her own magic, drew her into the bubble of frozen time. Katzin was shocked as Yusana’s magic freed her from the frozen tableau of killing that surrounded her. She had resisted Yusana’s attempt to save her at first, her loyalty and love for Sanjin compelling her to stay, but after Zoryn had struck her lover down with a fatal blow, she knew that she could not hope to defeat him and would only add her death to that of her lover.

The impossibly black blade he wielded had pierced Sanjin’s White Metal chest-plate as if it wasn’t there, ending his life. She wanted to stay, but the reasoning part of her brain knew that she couldn’t do anything to stop Zoryn and his accomplices. Yusana’s gentle words cut into her reality, telling her that there was nothing she could do and that she could best serve the Five Lands and the memory of her beloved, by surviving and bringing the traitors to justice.

Yusana and Velhanna knew that they could not suspend time with Katzin accompanying them for long, and even though they wanted to stay, to bear witness to the confrontation, they knew that they had to leave immediately.

The magic that was used to seamlessly seal the door of the chamber was no match for the combined magic of the Dyroshin women as they left with Katzin. Sealing the ornately carved door behind them, they unfroze time leaving the fate of the Five Lands to play out as it would.

Velhanna and Yusana had travelled to Gaardsholme in a small horse-drawn carriage which they had tethered close by. They were still within the city walls when the explosion