Shadow Phantoms - H.P. Mallory Page 0,19
as Pagan had enough men, he could easily defend the fortress on the landward side. The disadvantage was that that left the seaward side open, and it was much harder to approach unnoticed by sea. Not to mention the fact that I wanted to avoid an ocean battle. No, we needed to strike with extreme force and crush all resistance before they had a chance to react. And we would have to do so by storming the landward side.
A thin, ribbon of adrenalin-fueled excitement ran through me as I waited for the last light of day to vanish. Though I was a warrior by nature, as High Mage of the King’s Alliance it sometimes suited me to step back and let others take on the dangerous work. But not this time. Tonight I wanted to be in for the kill.
The sun set.
I drew back my hands, murmuring words beneath my breath as I drew out a ball of fire from within my chest. It flickered yellow, orange and red as it spun between my fingers, growing and gaining in power until it was spinning with energy. With a cry, I let the ball fly, sending it on its way, arcing across the coastline, like a comet bringing death with it. The ball of fire dipped over the cliff edge, plunging down to the Templar camp. It was too much to hope that it would kill any of them—they were bound to be sheltered—but it would cause panic and that would play into our hands now.
At my signal, the army of the King’s Alliance rushed for the cliffs. A double row of soldiers, including all the mages I could muster, stood along the cliff edge, firing a defensive barrage down into the rocky bay below, providing cover for the infantry men abseiling down the cliffs.
The Order of the Templar had been around for a while, even before the fall of the Underworld, but they had been a nothing organization of withered old men who ‘kept an eye on things’. They believed in the purity of magic, whatever the hell that meant.
When the Underworld fell and other groups began to rise to fill the power vacuum, then suddenly the words of those withered old men became relevant, as they spoke out against the ‘corruption of magic’. They expressed horror at how magic was being used as the tool of the oppressor and a way to win power. Needless to say, once I had seized command of the King’s Alliance and outlawed witches and warlocks, rebranding them as Mages who were all subservient to me, the Order had some criticism. In hindsight, some of them had probably regretted voicing that criticism, but they didn’t live to regret it for long.
It was then that Pagan appeared, as if from nowhere. Had he been one of the Order’s young acolytes? He was a talented one if he had been. Perhaps he was a magic user from one of the other groups or factions I had annihilated, one who had latched onto what was left of the Order of the Templar as a useful propaganda tool. It did not matter. His words echoed those of the old men who preceded him; railing against the corruption of magic. But unlike them, he spoke with a firebrand passion, igniting a zealous fervor in all who heard him. He might be saying the same things as the old men, but he spoke with a voice like thunder, which made him a rallying point for every magic user who opposed me, everyone who thought magic should be used to serve not to rule.
In other words; cowards.
Magic made us better, stronger, more powerful than those around us. If that did not make us fit to rule over the common man then what did?
But that logic seemed lost on the followers who flocked to Pagan’s cause, and he became the charismatic figurehead of the rebellion against the King’s Alliance. I had only seen him once, and then from a distance, but I knew I would recognize him if I saw him again. When I saw him again…
As my army descended, a violent wind sprung up in the little bay. In a cyclone, it gathered the smoke of my fireball and blew it back into the faces of the troops who lined the cliff tops, making them choke and forcing them to stop their barrage. The wind whipped around again, this time targeting the soldiers climbing down the cliff walls, hurling them against