Legacy of the Fallen: The Fallen Mages, #1

Chapter One

AFSHANEH was late. She had allowed herself to be distracted. She hurried her footsteps along the street, ignoring the exhortations from the street vendors to purchase their wares rather than those of their neighbours. She waved at Bahman, who owned the fruit shop and sometimes gave her the squishy fruits he could not easily sell, though perfectly edible. He knew Afshaneh and her mother and had a soft spot for the pair. Afshaneh was not too proud to take handouts from friends. Besides, it would only rot somewhere if she and the others he helped did not accept it. Bahman waved back from where he was re-arranging the produce at the front of his shop.

Bahman had been one of the first people to befriend Afshaneh when she and her mother arrived in the city. He had taken pity on her and offered her a job. It was only an hour a day sorting fruit and it did not pay much, but Afshaneh had been grateful. He also gave her fruit and vegetables he said were not good enough to sell. Afshaneh could see nothing wrong with them and suspected he was trying to help her and her mother.

It had not taken Afshaneh long to realise that there were children in the city who had nothing. No family, place to sleep, or coin. They risked everything to steal food to survive. Afshaneh gave most of Bahman’s handouts to these children. At least she had a roof over her head, a mother, and some money coming in. Bahman discovered what she was doing, but instead of being angry, he had set up an evening stall where he would give away the slightly battered produce that ‘was not good enough to sell’. Afshaneh helped him run it. She smiled at the memory. She had felt she might burst from pride on the evening the stall opened. Dusk was creeping over the city and ragged children with wide eyes stepped hesitantly towards them – struggling to believe that someone was giving them food. Several of those children now had permanent jobs and always had a warm greeting for Afshaneh.

The aromas of spices, meat, vegetables and honey made her stomach growl. It seemed a long time since breakfast, though it had been no more than a couple of hours. It was her own fault for eating nothing but an apple. She hoped Zerin would order her favourite cardamon and rosewater cookies with their tea. She licked her lips in anticipation. Yet if she did not hurry he might eat it all before she arrived!

Horses’ hooves clattered on the paving slabs and echoed up the street from behind Afshaneh.

Make way! Make way!

The sharp voice precipitated a rush of bodies to the edges of the road. Afshaneh pushed in beside a bittersweet-orange vendor. She draped her scarf over her head and then chided herself. Who would recognise her?

Six black horses pranced along the paved street, their rare coats gleaming as if they had been polished. Five of them were ridden by guards sporting their usual scarlet uniforms, their conical helms flashing in the sunlight, their base’s deep blue cloth matching the lacquered bird of prey on their metal vests. This bird was the symbol of the satrap of Mahariz and all guards displayed it, although its colour depended on the noble house they represented.

However, the man in the centre of the guards was different. His clothes were of the finest silk in three shades of blue, encrusted with silver embroidery, and he wore a cream turban with a peacock feather jauntily bobbing at the front. Blue to denote the noble House of Mirza – which was why the guards also had blue in their uniforms. The man’s face was strong but haughty and unlike the guards who sweated in the heat, the noble appeared pristine. He did not spare a glance for the stall holders, merchants, or others that his passage had forced off the road.

Afshaneh hid the curl of her lip behind her scarf. Nobles. They were all the same: corrupt, arrogant, and untrustworthy. They cared nothing for the hard-working people they inconvenienced. What did she expect, taking a detour through the Northern District just to view the Almira Gardens near the palace? She should have known better and kept to her own part of the city – the eastern sprawl.

Once the noble and his retinue had passed, all the bystanders continued their business as if he had never disturbed their day, used to such interruptions in this section of the city. Luckily, nobles rarely strayed into the narrow alleys or the bazaars of the Eastern District. Afshaneh settled the scarf round her neck and hurried away. After spending a short time with Zerin, she would need to head to work.

As she strode eastwards, the paved streets soon faded to hard packed earth. They began to narrow, and the people’s clothing became simpler, less flounces and pleats and a simple sash around the tunics. Though even here, no one skimped on colour. The tunics for men and women and the long dresses for those women who preferred them to tunics were vibrant with greens, pinks, and blues. The increase in noise level emanating from the bazaars told her for certain she was back in the Eastern District, home to the largest portion of Mahariz’s population, though packed into an area no larger than the other three districts. Afshaneh absently fingered the material of her scarf, as she often did, particularly when she was tense. And proximity to a noble made her uneasy. She knew she had this habit but it did not stop her. She touched the delicate beadwork that her mother had sewn into the pattern of blue dragonflies dancing amongst pink and yellow irises. Afshaneh was fond of dragonflies – perhaps because they could transform themselves from ugly larvae to dazzling insects. Her mother had presented the scarf to Afshaneh as a gift for her seventeenth birthday earlier in the year. It was intricate work, and she could have sold it for a considerable sum. When Afshaneh had gently pointed this out, her mother had smiled sweetly and told her, ‘You are worth more to me than gold.’ What could Afshaneh say to that? She had hugged her mother, who worked so hard to feed and clothe them. When had she even had time to sew this?

At last, Afshaneh reached the tiny alley she had been heading for. It ran parallel to one of the covered bazaars where people could purchase almost anything they dreamt of and some things one would not wish to think about. She ducked under the awning of the tea seller – an awning that once had bright stripes of colour but was now faded to a muted brown – and searched the space for Zerin.

His familiar slim figure was sitting at a table to the right. His dark hair curled into his neck and fell over his forehead, never seeming to wish to stay behind his ears where he regularly pushed it. Afshaneh shook her head fondly. His oval face, generous mouth and slender nose as familiar to her as her own features. Although she considered his much more pleasant. Her amber-flecked brown eyes were pretty. But her face was unbalanced with a thin nose, prominent cheekbones, and a mouth that was too wide.

Zerin glanced up and spotted Afshaneh. At once, he rose with a lopsided grin and swept his arm to indicate the tea and cookies on the table.

Afshaneh could not prevent her answering grin, and she hurried to the table.

I was beginning to think I might have to eat it all myself, Zerin said wryly, as they sat.

Afshaneh took a large bite of one cookie and closed her eyes with a contented sigh. You know I would never miss an opportunity to eat rosewater cookies.

But I might have decided to purchase something else instead since you were not here to guide me.

Afshaneh peered up at him whilst stuffing the last mouthful in. Ha. You would not dare. You know well enough that these are my favourites. She sipped at her tea, more genteel now that her immediate hunger was assuaged. Thank you.

Zerin chuckled. You are welcome. He paused. So, where were you that made you late?

Afshaneh took another sip of her tea before spreading her hands. I went for a walk and nearly ended up trampled by a useless nobleman and his guards.

Zerin narrowed his eyes. He would be aware of exactly where she had been, yet all he said was, You are far too nimble to get trampled.

Afshaneh’s lips twitched as she reached for her second cookie. Have you seen Eskander and the others yet?

Not this morning. But Makali and Souri will be busy preparing for the show at lunchtime. Will Didar allow you time out to come and watch?

Afshaneh bobbed her head. I asked him last week, and he agreed. Though I have only been granted an hour. She drew her mouth down. It would have been good to catch up with them after the show, but there will not be time. Still, I will see them tonight.

Them, Zerin said without inflexion.

Afshaneh lifted her gaze to his face. His dark eyes watched her intently, and she could not hold his gaze.

Yes, them, she said, reaching up to finger the beads on her scarf. Stray strands of her hair tickled her fingers. It never all stayed in the braid, no matter how much time she spent on it. She pushed her hands down once more. Yet she could not help adding, Naturally, I wish to hear how it is with Eskander’s latest boyfriend. He was distraught when he broke up with Arash and it has been months between partners. Afshaneh did not look at Zerin. She knew what she would see on his face. Sympathy, or empathy, she did not wish for either. Though she should give up her ridiculous desire. Stop making a fool of yourself, she admonished. He can never be yours. Still, it was not so easy.

They changed the subject by mutual, though silent, agreement and chatted about the pile of gems that had arrived for Afshaneh to check at work and Zerin’s latest job for his father. This time, he had Zerin unpacking the shipments of spices at the docks.

He is still determined that I must learn every part of the work, from the lowest job to the highest. Only then will I be able to make informed decisions. Zerin’s voice took on a deeper and very serious tone imitating his father. Zerin’s father was one of the major importers of spices and other goods into the city. So he had probably earned the right to be pompous on occasion.

Zerin’s older sister was married and had two young children. However, his younger sister, Shydi, was still allowed to work for their father. She was apparently something of a demon with paperwork. Zerin’s father was very proud. Though whether he or Shydi’s husband – if she ever married, at the moment she laughed off the idea – would let her continue was a different matter.

At one point, a mention was made of Zerin’s uncle, his father’s younger brother, Tirdad, who was in charge of the dock area that belonged to the family, and she could not help but notice as tension rippled through Zerin’s body and his face became tight. Neither of them spoke of it. Yet it was not the first time it had happened.

Afshaneh struggled to prevent herself from frowning. Something was not right there; still, her friend obviously did not wish to speak of it yet. She would not push him. At least not for a while longer.

I must leave, or Didar will dismiss me and I will lose the easiest job I have ever had! Afshaneh grinned as she stood. Is it my turn to pay?

Zerin tipped his head to one side, pretending to consider, scratching at the stubble that resisted growing into a proper beard. No. I am certain it is mine. He reached into the pouch hanging from his thick leather belt and pulled out a couple of mef. The bronze coins clinked as he placed them on the table. They played this game all the time. It rarely ended up being Afshaneh’s turn. Zerin earned more working for his father’s company than she did working for the jeweller Didar – much more. Once in a while, she would rebel and insist on paying. Zerin would give in graciously with a deep bow. Then, he would settle the bill the next time, and the next, and the one after that.

One day, I will be able to afford to purchase sweets in the Northern District whenever I wish, Afshaneh vowed.

***

Didar raised a single bushy eyebrow as Afshaneh hurried into his cluttered shop. Luckily, it was around the corner from the tea shop and she was only a couple of minutes late. The jeweller had a corner shop at the edge of the bazaars of the eastern sprawl. He was as close to the Northern District as one born of his lowly status was ever likely to reach. However, he was still frequented by some of those who lived in the richer districts. Very few were nobles, though wealthy men and women nonetheless.

He could surely afford to increase her wages since it was her work that had brought him to the notice of such people.

Afshaneh had begun working for Didar three years ago. He had dismissed Afshaneh’s request to work for him at first – she was too young and had no experience. But then she had shown him how well she knew gems. For three days she had entered his shop and pestered him, telling him how he should cut the stones he arranged on his workbench. At first, he appeared to ignore her. But by the third day she could see she had piqued his interest. At last, he handed her a single stone.

Show me, he said.

Afshaneh cut and polished the stone, and despite its poor quality she made something beautiful from it. Didar examined the gem critically as Afshaneh stood watching, her insides twisted with nerves.

Come back tomorrow morning as the shop opens. You will have a week’s trial period. Didar had not looked at her as he spoke, but had set her stone carefully to the side.

Three years later she was still here and the business was thriving. She still found time some evenings to help Bahman on his stall. But he had plenty of other helpers, too. There were always poor children desperate for work.

Afshaneh pursed her lips and eyed the gem pouches that sat in regimented rows on her worktable, each with a tiny label fixed to the strings.

Kamyar has been busy, Afshaneh commented. She was unsure where the man acquired all his gems and jewels and had concluded it was best not to ask. Didar merely grunted in response.

Afshaneh pulled the first bag towards her. Even before she had opened it, her Crystal told her that inside huddled two emeralds with the potential to bring in more than her month’s wages. There was also an almost worthless piece of quartz. Her brows drew together. Was Didar still testing her? Surely she had proved her worth more than enough times?

She peered at Didar from beneath her lashes. He appeared to take no notice of her, busy twisting gold and silver wire together with delicate tools.

Afshaneh eased out a breath and shook the gems into her palm. The emeralds glittered up at her, bright as the eyes of a cat. She placed the quartz to one side. Maybe it could be made into something... She dug into her box of tools and cloths for what she needed. Then she tipped out the stones from each of the other pouches. She could feel every tiny flaw as well as every hint of perfection. The Crystal that sat forever in her stomach sang to the other stones, and they sang back. At least, that was how she described the sensation to herself. Yet it was more of a vibration, of like to like. However, in reality none of these stones were truly the same as her Crystal. It was unique.

Guided by the vibrations, or the sensations she received from the stones, she began to polish them with abrasive powders. She also reached for her diamond-tipped drill when needed. She worked away, getting closer to her vision of how the brilliant green gems should look.

Chapter Two

AS Afshaneh worked, her mind wandered. She could only do this because of the Crystal that she had discovered. An object that had called to her since her arrival in the area – though she had not realised at the time what it was that called to her. When she first found the Crystal she had thought it was nothing more than a precious gem. It was only later that she discovered some of the powers it bestowed.

She could vividly remember the day she had located her Crystal. Ever since she and her mother had settled in Mahariz she had wanted to visit the ruins she had spotted high on a plateau, on their journey to the city. But her mother forbade her from going near them, reciting the myths and rumours that had sprung up about the place. No one else would travel there either, especially not with a small girl in tow. The mere fact that mages had once occupied the place should have been enough to stifle Afshaneh’s curiosity. But it was not.

For years she ignored the itch, the pull northwards. However, when she reached fourteen and was bored of the menial jobs she managed to procure – her job with Bahman did not earn her enough coin – she decided that she would go, regardless. She had been impetuous, perhaps even reckless at times, since she was little. She had once agreed to climb to the roof of the Tabestan Bazaar simply because a boy dared her. She had almost fallen, and was very lucky to come away with nothing more than scrapes and a twisted ankle.

Zerin had fumed. If you had fallen, you might have broken your neck! he had told her with a deep scowl.

But I did not! she replied with an impish grin. On another occasion she had persuaded Zerin to join her in spying on a noble who was enjoying clandestine meetings with a woman who was not his wife. They had been spotted and had run for their lives from the noble’s guards. There had been other occasions too. If Afshaneh ever stopped to consider why, she thought it was because she felt the need to take advantage of her freedom, before it was taken from her again.

However impetuous her behaviour in the past, this trip to the mage ruins was the first time she had openly defied her mother. Afshaneh’s face flushed in shame at the way she had spoken to her mother. Ignoring her warnings, her threats, and her pleas, she had grabbed food, spare clothes, and a knife, and simply set off. She had even slammed the door behind her.

Afshaneh could still recall the defiant sense of freedom that had washed through her as she marched towards the city gates. She had possessed enough common sense to purchase more supplies on the way – she had not grabbed enough from home to last her the eight day round-trip – with coin she had saved over the last few weeks. However, once she stepped through the city exit she quailed. The land was wide and she was alone. It was almost four days of travel to reach the plateau. Afshaneh’s breath hitched and her heart beat loud in her ears. What did she think she was doing? She was no explorer!

She turned back to the gate. She would return home and apologise to her mother and forget this madness.

A tug at her core had her facing north once more. She frowned as she stared into the distance. She could not see the plateau upon which the ruins sat; yet it was as if they called to her...

Without conscious effort, she found her feet moving, leading her away from Mahariz and to whatever awaited her at Yehtkala, the ‘Castle of Sorcery’.

The trip had been gruelling and if it were not for that insistent tugging at her soul, she would have turned back. At night she huddled in her blankets, eyes flying open at every tiny sound. Luckily, nothing approached her.

Afshaneh did not let her mind linger on the hours she spent crying in the rocky maze that blocked her path after enduring more than two days of hiking. She had been certain she would die in there, lost forever. Would anyone ever find her bones?

But at last she had reached the cliff and refilled her sadly depleted water skin. Afshaneh stared upwards. She scrubbed her face and scowled. Why did everything on this journey have to be so difficult? The path switch backed up the steep cliffside and was overgrown and covered in loose soil and pebbles. Perhaps there was another way up.

Afshaneh searched for two hours before she gave up and returned to the base of the cliff, defeated. If there was another way, she could spend days looking for it.

Resolutely she pivoted so that her back was to the climb. She ate a meagre meal and sat with her arms tight around her knees. She could not do this. It was too much. She peered over her shoulder and let out a sighing breath. She had already come this far, she could not return to her mother now. She had caused her mother grief and she needed to have something to show for it. She firmed her lips, settled her pack more comfortably and started climbing.

Pebbles rolled out from beneath her feet, threatening to fling her to her death. Bushes snagged at her trousers and she had to carefully unhook them. They could not afford material to repair any tears.

By the time she struggled over the top she was crying with exhaustion and rested for a while, drinking in the sight of the once majestic fortress. Now it was rubble, partial walls, and the occasional dome or tower. Whatever catastrophe had befallen this place had been thorough.

The trip through the dark interior was not something Afshaneh wished to remember, either. The only thing that kept her moving, leading her onwards, was the sensation that something important awaited her here. The pull of it had only increased as she crept through a gap in the outer wall and stared at mosaics and friezes of fearsome mages.

It drew her down corridors and over rubble and then up a staircase she found in a corner. It led her up one of the remaining towers. The stairs wound up and up and her thigh muscles protested after her long journey.

At last she reached a tiny landing at the top with two doors. Both stood open, listing on their rusted hinges. But she had eyes for only one. She darted through the doorway and halted, scanning the room. Mouldy carpet, faded tapestries, remains of wooden furniture. A half-collapsed bed sagged against the far wall. Something was underneath it. Before she could think about what she was doing, she had thrown down her pack and was squeezing into the gap beneath the base. There! Something gleamed iridescent in the darkness and called to her. She reached out her hand and snatched it up. A sensation akin to satisfaction washed through her and she wriggled out again.

Ignoring the dust and cobwebs adorning her clothes and face, Afshaneh slowly opened her fist to inspect what she had discovered. In the centre of her palm lay a gem. It flashed in every colour of the rainbow, was egg shaped, and fit neatly into her hand. Afshaneh grinned gleefully. It was all hers! A precious jewel that she could sell for a fortune and she and her mother might finally be safe.

***

Afshaneh sat back from her intricate work on the emerald. Finding the strange Crystal had changed her life. Though she still knew little about it, she had long ago understood that it was not just a jewel.

It had allowed her to prove to Didar that she knew gems and he should hire her. This job gave her satisfaction, stability, and paid far more than any of the previous jobs she had held.

Her mother had eventually forgiven her defiance, though there had been further words and pointed silences for a couple of weeks upon her safe return – after she had smothered Afshaneh in relieved hugs and kisses!

The journey had been dangerous and harrowing for a young teenager on her own but Afshaneh still felt a deep curiosity regarding the ruins and what had befallen them. It was an itch she had learned to ignore. Most of the time.

Chapter Three

AT midday, Afshaneh stood and stretched, her back complaining at the hunched position she had spent most of the morning in.

Didar peered across at her. Off to the Rose Garden then, are you? he asked.

Yes. My friend is performing, and I promised I would be there, Afshaneh replied. Was he going to ask her to stay and finish the emeralds?

Yes, yes. He waved a hand in the air. Nevertheless, I expect the emeralds and at least two other stones completed before you leave tonight, he said decisively.

Yes, Master Didar. Afshaneh scurried from the shop before he could change his mind. She could easily complete four stones in the afternoon. She was nearly done with the emeralds now. They seemed almost to help her find the right place and the right touch to bring them to perfection. The stones from the other bags could be completed over the next few weeks.

Some pouches contained four or five gems, whilst others might contain up to ten. Afshaneh knew the labels corresponded to where Kamyar had obtained the gems, but the notations were in code, and Didar would not let her into the secret, probably for the best. There were forbidden places and others where certain taxes needed to be paid to move goods out. Some islands off the coast of the continent of Escarnia forbade mining by all bar a select few. It was possible that Kamyar was one of these. However, Afshaneh had decided long ago that he was a crook and he and Didar bypassed all the paperwork and taxes to maximise profits. It was not her business, so she did not try to break the code.

The Rose Garden was a ten-minute walk at a fast pace, so she jogged some of the way, earning glares from others strolling more sedately in the same direction. Hardly anyone moved at more than a gentle pace; it was not seemly, and it was far too hot for jogging.

My apologies! Afshaneh threw back at them cheerily, plucking her clothing from her now sweat-sticky body.

At last, she reached the sandstone wall that enclosed the garden, murals of the royal family painted in lavish colours along its length and worked her way around to the first arch. Other people also headed inside. Makali’s family performances were popular. They even performed for the nobles in their residences on occasion – though most also had ordinary jobs too. Makali had yet to be invited to perform for a noble – the haughty nobility did not recognise knife dancing as an art form. Her cousins, aunts, and uncles went to dance and perform awe-inspiring feats of acrobatics.

The heady aroma of the rose blooms struck Afshaneh, and she inhaled deeply, momentarily dizzied by the perfume. It was late spring, and in every direction, flowerbeds frothed with colour. Afshaneh enjoyed the profusion of roses here, but she had a fondness for the Almira Gardens, where there was colour all year round. They also grew flowers and herbs there from other countries and they fascinated her.

The open area in front of the wooden stage was already seething with people, and Afshaneh’s shoulders slumped. How was she to find Zerin and Eskander in the crush? They had more control of their time and were likely near the front. Afshaneh began to edge around the crowd, heading towards the stage.

Afshaneh! Afshaneh! The voice brought her