Sun Mage by John Forrester

Author:John Forrester [Forrester, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Amber Muse
Published: 2012-01-02T16:00:00+00:00

11. THE UNSTEADY HAND

Spread over the extravagant supper table was a silk tapestry of moons and stars and the six symbols of death. Talis couldn’t help but stare at the design, for the weavings glowed and the drawing was animated with a life of its own. A frightful illustration. Etched along the tassels flowed a river of blood, the river leading into the Underworld. Farther up, layers of bodies were piled high, their vicious fumes rising as incense to the lesser demons above, who devoured the mortals’ flesh. Then above them were the taskmasters of the Underworld, great demons with spiked whips. They endlessly struck the lesser demons—punishment for the act of consuming the mortal’s flesh.

Arranged around the center of the tapestry were the gods themselves: at the head stood Zagros, the Lord of the Underworld, then Ractan, the Lord of the Dragons, and Ishta, the Lord of the Genie Sorcerers. At the other side hovered Nestria, the Goddess of the Sky, and Nacrea, the Goddess of the Sun, and opposite, Satvis, the God of Darkness. Between them sat two mythological heroes: Nyx the Destroyer and Lord Heti of Calabastria. Here were the triumphant gods, playing with the lives and flesh of all mortals.

Talis stifled a groan. Atop the tapestry were glass jars filled with what looked like trapped souls. Their ghastly faces peered out, eyes desperate and longing for freedom. How did they get inside? He felt sick to his stomach. The dark sorcerers studied him with grave looks, as if they glimpsed something distasteful inside. He could tell they were suspicious of him: he was too young, from a strange land untouched by their power, and to their murmuring voices, unsuitable to attend this grand feast.

Now, all he could think about was leaving this wretched city. Whatever danger lay ahead, it was nothing compared to the insidious poison seeping through the black and gold walls of Darkov.

“To your charmed fortune.” A sorcerer raised a crystal vial filled with some bubbling substance. The man appeared to be hundreds of years old. Deep, harsh wrinkles lined his eyes and forehead, and yet his hands were perfectly smooth. He wore a black silk cloak fastened around his neck with a gold broach, ornately designed like the sun. He drank the vial and after awhile, he appeared as youthful as a young man.

Talis was taken aback at the man’s sudden transformation. He steadied his wine cup with his other hand. “Fortune smiles on you...”

“Every day.” The sorcerer frowned at Talis. “You’d be wise to remember that. Without fortune, shining on you daily”—he leaned in close to Talis—”your life is at risk.”

Turning, the man whisked away and disappeared behind another group of sorcerers mingling in the corner of the room. Talis tried to discover where he’d gone, but the man had vanished.

Just then Talis felt a cold hand settle on his right shoulder. He turned, glimpsed the eyes of Aurellia, and resisted the desire to flee.

“I see you’ve finally joined us here in our illustrious city.

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