The Burning City

Two young boys learn the truth about war. A dark fantasy short story. 2010.

Edit: September 10th, 2012: Applied edits based on review feedback.



This was my short story submission that won first place in the SpoCon 2010 Writing Contest (www.spocon.org). I still need to edit it but this was the original submission.



It is based on two characters who play pivotal roles later within Transcendence.

* * * * *

The Burning City

          “Son, these documents are unacceptable. They are muddy and conveniently smeared. Your birth date is illegible.” The sergeant slid the identification papers back towards the young recruit.

          “What seems to be the trouble here?” A barrel-chested man in a black uniform leaned over the sergeant behind the counter. The insignia on his chest told the young boy that the man was a Blood Mage in the Citadel Military.

          “Commander Gale, sir. This boy has papers but they are… well, they’re ruined. They are completely covered in mud and water. Policy states I may not accept them if I cannot verify the boy is old enough to enlist.” The man behind the counter cleared his throat.

          Commander Gale nodded and turned towards the young boy.

          “Policy be damned. Countless men and women before him did not have the luxury of identification papers, Sergeant. Identification papers are only necessary to identify bodies. Are we identifying bodies here or enlisting young men for the Citadel Military? Hand them here, lad.”

          The boy scrambled to push the damp pile of papers towards the man.

          “Jaq, is it?” Commander Gale grunted his question and Jaq nodded.

          “Drink much, do you?” He gave Jaq a stern look. Jaq grinned.

          “Beg your pardon, sir?”

          “I asked you a question, soldier. Do you drink? Do you toss back a few with your mates?”

          Jaq nodded slowly. His light blue eyes sparkled mischievously.

          “Yes, sir. Quite often, actually. Sir.”

          The Commanding Officer waved a hand idly.

          “The boy can drink and lie; certainly he’s clever enough to die for the Citadel. Process him. I have just the spot for young Jaq.” The man behind the counter scrawled a signature in red ink and handed the papers back.

          As the Commander turned to leave, Jaq called out.

          “Commander, sir. My lad, Av’niel, has papers of a similar… condition.” Standing behind Jaq was a taller and darker skinned boy who clutched his muddied documents in one white knuckled fist. Commander Gale paused to study Av’niel.

          “Jan’caran heritage, are you?”

          Av’niel nodded, avoiding the Commanding Officer’s gaze.

          “Tall, dark complexion, innate Blood Magic… Let me see your eyes.”                    

          Jaq cursed under his breath. Av’niel lifted his head to stare fearfully at Jaq. If he recognizes Av’niel’s eyes… Jaq’s breathing seemed to freeze in his chest. He nodded slightly.

          Av’niel turned his head and stared defiantly in the cold, stern gaze of Commander Gale. Av’niel’s eyes were undeniably silver--the color of the Royal Court of Jan’caro. Silver eyes were only born from Royal Jan’caran blood. If Av’niel had been born on the sands of Jan’caro, he would be royalty. Instead, he was born like a dog on the floor of the Blood Citadel.

          The Blood Citadel was as far away from the hot sands of Jan’caro as Av’niel could be born. It was the only safe place to learn or teach the laws of magic in the known world. It made him nothing more than a Jan’caran child to the rest of the world.

          “If you enlist, you understand you’ll be fighting your own kinsmen, if it comes to battle? This will be a diplomatic mission, though I can’t guarantee much beyond that. If you’ve any knowledge of the Jan’caran tongue, you’ll be worth your inexperience.”

          Both boys enlisted specifically for a mission to Jan’caro; to discover the truth of Av’niel’s heritage, and to give Jaq some of the military action he’d been searching for. Av’niel nodded.

          Commander Gale gave a throaty laugh and motioned for Av’niel to step forward. Av’niel’s step was stiff and reluctant. Jaq placed a hand on his friend’s back to steady him. His head spun with confusion--the Commanding Officer, by Citadel law, should be stopping them both: for their ages, and for the Royal Jan’caran Blood in Av’niel’s eyes. Better not question fate, not now.

          Both boys had just shared their sixteenth summer together. They knew the age requirement to enlist as a Blood Mage in the Citadel Military was eighteen summers. Together they made very good liars.

          Neither Jaq nor Av’niel was certain of their real age, both being orphans left in the care of the Blood Citadel. They had been friends since meeting and decided they were the closest thing the other had to a brother--they celebrated their make-believe birthdays on the same day, any day of the year that suited them.

          The Blood Citadel was the center for the laws of magic in the known world. It was a sanctuary for anyone who was abandoned because of their ability to cast magic. It acted as a school, a military stronghold, and for many, it was a home.

          Many children born with the ability to cast Blood Magic were left by fearful parents on the rainy doorsteps of the Citadel. Jaq and Av’niel were two very gifted Blood Mages.  They had lived and trained together since they could lift a Blood Dagger.

          “Tell me boys, have you ever been to The Burning City of Jan’caro?” Commander Gale smiled. He knew damn well the boys were too young to enlist.

          Commander Kaven Gale was an excellent warlord; but he was even better at spotting exceptionally gifted Blood Mages. Between young Jaq and Av’niel, more power coursed through their veins than he had ever witnessed. He knew he would need them, if his mission was to be a success.

* * *

          “Why are we marching unopposed?” Jaq gripped his Blood Dagger a little tighter. He walked beside Av’niel, the first in a long line of Citadel Blood Mages marching behind Commander Gale. The sun was setting along the red Jan’caran horizon, granting the boys a brief escape from the heat.

          “Jan’caro is in the middle of a civil war, presently under martial law by their military. The people are scared, confused; they don’t want this war anymore than we do.” Kaven spat into the hot sand as though ridding his mouth of a bad taste.

          “Why are they at war?” Jaq asked.

          “It’s a war over the laws of Blood Magic. There are Citadel laws, which we all follow… and there is a new faction, a new way of casting magic. They call it ‘Cursed Blood.’ We have information that the Sun King may be in danger and we’ve been sent to find out the truth.”

          Cursed Blood… Jaq had heard the words before. It was a phrase whispered in the shadows of the Blood Citadel. It was rumored to be a violent and new way of casting magic. Instead of a willing Blood Mage casting magic from their own blood, it involved using the blood of others… against their will.

          Anyone with a gift for Blood Magic was at risk for bodily harm from any one who wanted to cast magic. It was unbalanced, violent, and completely against the Citadel laws of magic. The Cursed Bloods were both an idea and a rumored race of people; they were unfortunate to have been born void of all forms of magic.

          However barren, they were also cursed with an insatiable need to cast magic--at whatever cost necessary. Most Cursed Bloods were considered by the world to be broken and insane from sheer blood lust. 

          Jaq slowed his pace and Av’niel followed suit. The two boys lingered behind Kaven, letting other soldiers take their places in line with whispered insults and shoves. The boys ignored them.

          “This isn’t war,” Jaq hissed under his breath.

          “Yes, Jaq, this is a war. Look around you.”  Av’niel kept his eyes towards the ground as usual.

          “I’ve seen the bodies in the sand. I mean… this isn’t what I thought war was. I knew they were fighting over Blood Magic, I just didn’t know we’d be dealing with Cursed Blood.”

          “It’s not what we lied about to go off and fight, you mean. What else can we do? It’s not our fault we’re on some kind of diplomatic mission and not an attack squad… I’ve seen enough dead bodies as a diplomat, I’m not sure I want a real war.”

          The details of the Jan’caran mission were not given to young Jaq or Av’niel. When they asked, Commander Gale reminded them to concentrate on not getting killed and to keep their eyes open. Jaq was barely familiar with Jan’caro as a nation far beyond the borders of his home.

          His knowledge of the desert civilization was limited, only what he had learned from text books in the Blood Citadel. Jan’caro was a vast and rich desert nation, ruled by magic--and until recently, that magic was ruled by the same set of laws that governed the Blood Citadel. That was, until the arrival of the Cursed Bloods and their forbidden methods of magic.

          The boys walked in silence. The only sound was the crunching of sandals on scorching desert sand and idle chatter from the other soldiers in line. The Burning City appeared to rise from the darkness of the night like a pile of smoldering embers.

After walking for nearly a week with nothing to break the view of sand but scattered corpses, the city was a welcome sight. Nightfall had come to the Burning City and there could be no better name. The white stone walls of Jan’caro pierced the sand and rose like a fortress from the desert.

          The Burning City was named for the lights that burned at night. The country of Jan’caro was too hot for the people to live during the day. As a result, the city was alive at night, when the air was cool enough to be tolerable. Built from white marble lifted by magic from the coast hundreds of miles away, it was a stronghold of stone and light. Hundreds of large metal cauldrons were surrounded by colored glass and, from a distance, the city glowed blood red.

          The pathway towards the main gate of Jan’caro was lined with smooth polished shells, stacked to create pillars that rose above the sand. They followed the winding path towards the empty gates, past four dead guardsmen covered in flies. They walked past the fallen guards and through the broken gates.

          Stunning cold and a thunderous crash caught Jaq’s attention. The boys in front of him threw themselves to the ground. He felt a tug on his right shoulder as Av’niel pulled him down.

          “Ambush! Soldiers, get ready to defend yourselves. Rally at the Palace! We have to protect the Sun King!” Kaven’s shout cut through the chill. The Commanding Officer loomed in front of Jaq and Av’niel and drew his Blood Dagger. He ran the blade across his forearm and extended his hand outwards. Roaring fire sprung from his blood and erupted towards a white stone wall. The cold disappeared. Jaq watched as a crumpled form fell, leaving behind a scorch mark that looked vaguely human. Whoever had started to attack was now silent.

          Another terrible crash and Kaven flew away, slamming into the same scorched wall. When the smoke cleared, Jaq heard shouts in a language he recognized but didn’t understand.

          “Jan’caran Guards, Jaq! We need to get out of here. Towards the Palace, like Commander Gale said.” Jaq nodded and looked to the wall. Kaven wasn’t there. He survived, he must have. We can’t do this mission without him… Jaq’s thoughts were dark and distant. He helped Av’niel stand up and they ran away from the sounds of shouting. Jaq watched as some of the other soldiers, boys little older than themselves, drew their Blood Daggers just as their Commanding Officer had done.

          Just like Kaven, the boys each fell in turn to some unseen magical force and did not stand back up. Jaq loosened his grip on his dagger and concentrated instead on running after Av’niel. He knew a lost battle when he saw one. The boys were fools to attack when their Commanding Officer had ordered them otherwise.

          Some of the boys Jaq had known just as long as Av’niel, though not nearly as well. He hoped silently that the Jan’caran Guards would take pity, knowing how young the boys were. He knew that was not the case, however. From the corner of his eye he saw a Jan’caran sword slammed home into the chest of a young Blood Mage. Jaq ran a little faster.

* * *

          The smooth stone streets of Jan’caro were empty. Large metal cauldrons sat blazing at every empty street corner. Smoke rose into the starless night. All Jaq could hear was the crackling of fire and the creeping footsteps of Av’niel behind him.

          It had been a few hours since they were separated from the rest of the Citadel Mages. They continued towards the Palace but were forced to take a slow and staggering path to avoid detection. In hours the sun would rise and they would lose their small advantage of darkness.

          “How far to the Palace?” Jaq whispered over his shoulder. Av’niel stared down the dark streets to study a building in the distance.

          “It depends on how fast we can move. I remember one of the soldiers saying it was less than an hour by foot. We’re moving too slow… we need a distraction, or a disguise.”

          Jaq snorted.

          “I don’t exactly look Jan’caran, Av’niel. What do you have in mind? We’re in standard Citadel Mage armor and judging from earlier, I don’t think the Cursed Bloods are happy we’re here.”

          Av’niel was quiet for a moment. Both boys stayed pressed down against a cool stone wall, studying their surroundings.

          “I’ll pretend to be Ascended…” Av’niel turned towards Jaq.

          “Ascended? Are you crazy? We barely passed that Jan’caran history test, even cheating, and now you want to pretend to be one of their Royal Heirs?”

          “…You could be my Guardian.” Jaq could hear Av’niel’s smile. He knew exactly what to say to motivate Jaq - the promise of respect. “It’s not uncommon for a Jan’caran Royal House to take non-Jan’carans for their Guardians. Jan’caro does accept Blood Magic from outside her borders, after all. We just have one problem.”

          Jaq arched an eyebrow.

          “What problem would that be?”

          “We don’t have uniforms.”

          Jaq nodded. He knew just where to look.

          “Leave that up to me.”

* * *

          The uniforms fit both boys as well as they could. Jan’caran men were typically taller than sixteen year old boys, though Av’niel had an easier time filling his uniform. Jaq had found the bodies, recently dead, and stripped enough clothes to make their disguises believable. He only wished they didn’t smell like blood.

          They abandoned their Citadel Mage uniforms to a burning cauldron and continued down the streets without hiding. As was customary, Av’niel took the lead trailed very closely by his newly appointed “Guardian.” Jaq swaggered and jutted out his chest as often as was necessary to take the attention off his ill-fitting Jan’caran sword.

          The sword was unlike anything Jaq had ever wielded. All the weapons they had seen on fallen guards were the same brutal design. The blades were thick and jagged, meant to rip flesh rather than cut cleanly like a Blood Dagger. The wounds left behind looked more like someone had taken an axe to a man’s torso than a sword.

          When Jaq’s sense of drama was not enough to convince passing guards, Av’niel spoke indignantly in his best Jan’caran. They may have questioned his accent, as Av’niel was not a practiced speaker, but one look at his silver gaze caused all additional questions to halt. One guard even professed his apologies and shoved a velvet bag, brimming with shells, into Av’niel’s hand. The confused boy grunted his thanks as the Guard shuffled off, and then handed the bag to Jaq.

          “Sea shells? He gave you bloody sea shells?” Jaq looked disappointed into the bag.

          “You really weren’t paying attention in class. It’s the currency for Jan’caro, since gold and silver belongs only to the Ruling Family. If I remember, that would be House Yash’evin now. I’d say that Guard just handed us a small fortune as an apology for questioning my… authority.”

          Jaq was quiet, sifting through the pile of multi-colored shells.

          “Remind me to learn this language of yours, someday. It could come in handy.” Jaq tucked the bag into his belt.

* * *

          The Palace of Jan’caro was a towering building of massive blocks of white marble. It was rumored to be the only building ever fully created by Blood Magic. The marble had been mined and transported over miles of sand from the coast. It was surrounded by lush trees and plants, vivid flowers and exotic birds that called the oasis home. Water flowed over the surface of the marble and made the building shimmer in the moonlight.

          The entry way was slightly ajar, pooling firelight across the floor. Jaq and Av’niel slowly climbed the stone staircase. The guards that had once protected the grand doors of the Palace lay dead against the wall, blood smeared across the surface of the marble. One guard’s neck was sliced to the bone; the other must have put up more of a fight.

          The woman was barely alive as Av’niel knelt down by her side. She struggled as he approached. She reached out a limp hand towards her fellow Jan’caran and gurgled inaudibly. Color drained from Av’niel’s face. The woman coughed, convulsed and stopped moving. Her hand dropped to the floor.

          “What did she say?”

          Av’niel closed his eyes.

          “She requested my healing magic, as an Ascended Heir.”

          Jaq gave a questioning look. Av’niel sighed.

          “Jan’carans are taught that the Ascended Heirs protect the Jan’caran people. That they can heal anything or anyone. She thought I could save her…” Av’niel stood, visibly shaken.

          The boys pushed past the front doors and heard muffled voices. There were no other guards posted. Many of the cauldrons had burnt out with no one left to replenish them. The Palace shook to its core as a magical attack slammed home somewhere outside. Dust and sand filled the cool night air from the explosion.

          They continued down the hall towards the voices and realized they were speaking Citadel--they had found Commander Gale. He was standing with a rag-tag group of boys. All looked tired and bloodied. Kaven turned to face them as they approached.

          "Ah, boys. I am glad you survived--let us hope we’re not too late..." Kaven gestured down an elaborate hallway lined with flowers, statues and portraits of former Sun Kings and Moon Queens.

          Jaq noticed there were only a handful the original Citadel Mages remaining. Many must have been cut down or lost within the city.

          Kaven stopped in front of a large doorway. Carved into the wood and stone were elaborate images of stars and the moon. One half of the door portrayed day; the other, night. It was symbolic for the culture of Jan’caro; the rule at day by the Sun King, the rule at night by the Moon Queen.

          Commander Gale pulled the doors open with a grunt. The entire back wall of the room was filled with large, open windows covered in light gold fabric. Candles and cauldrons blazed bright on every stone surface. Light and fire illuminated the blue and gold tapestries and rugs.

          The Sun King knelt in the middle of the floor with his head bowed.  His shoulders and arms shook as if he could barely hold himself up. His gold and dark blue silk robes shifted in the cool breeze. His long black hair was braided and laced with red ribbon. At his chest winked metallic gold ink, hinting at the large sun tattoo that lay beneath. His braids hung heavily around his shoulders and sweat glistened on his forehead.

          A woman in similar dark blue robes stood behind the King. She wore an elaborate mask covered in feathers and painted the color of old blood. She held a small dagger in one hand and placed the other on the shoulder of the Sun King.

          Fresh blood coated her skin, along her chest and arms, and dripped down her neck. There was no sign of any bodily wound. She turned her masked face to look up at Jaq and Av’niel as they pushed through the doorway. The Sun King’s head rose wearily at the sound of the door.

          The woman removed her mask to reveal a young Jan’caran face. Her nose and cheek bones were straight and defined; her gold gaze stared straight at Av’niel. Her eyes were circled with ash and appeared sunken.

          She lifted her dagger to graze the skin of the Sun King’s shoulder. Blood dripped down his arm and the woman smiled. The blood faded into his skin and appeared to run down the woman’s shoulders instead.

          She’s using Cursed Blood! Jaq knew enough about blood magic from his years of training to know about Cursed Blood. He knew the woman had perverted her magic and that she was using the Sun King’s blood against his will. She was draining his life, slowly, and using his blood to cast magic she could never touch on her own.

          Her people, known only as the ‘Cursed Bloods,’ were a bloodline barren of all magic from their own bodies, but had an insatiable need to possess it.

           Kaven signaled for the group to halt. The woman stepped forward.

          “Citadel snakes, you’re too late! The Sun King is mine!” Her Citadel language was broken but dripping with hate. The woman let out a shrill laugh as she removed her hand from the king’s shoulder. Jaq saw a black tendril of magic snaking from the woman’s hand to the blood soaking the Sun King’s chest. They were magically connected. He knew any damage done to the Cursed Blood would also damage the king.

          “Jaq, Av’niel—-this is our only chance. I chose you boys for a reason. Put her down.” Kaven growled, turned away from the boys and directed his attention to the remaining Citadel mages. A shrill sound came from the woman.

          “She’s calling for more help. We’ll hold them off for as long as we can. Go.” Kaven shoved Jaq forward then lined the remaining mages to fill the entry way of the room. Jaq drew his Blood Dagger from his belt.

          The Cursed Blood’s eyes burned with determination and a glimmer of something else. It could have been sadness, anger, or a glint of insanity. The constant need to cast magic, to draw blood, to fill a void--had a terrible price.

          Jaq slammed his blood dagger into his left shoulder with a cry of pain. Blood streamed down his arm. The woman let out an angry curse in Jan’caran and a shard of ice materialized from the blood on her chest. The Sun King gasped in pain but did not move from his kneeling position. He seemed to waver on his knees.

          The Cursed Blood howled and launched the ice shard directly towards Jaq’s chest. He was able to dive to the side and narrowly miss being impaled. He rolled quickly to his feet and began to call upon his own Blood Magic.

          Before Jaq could pull power from his blood, he heard a shout from Av’niel. The sound pulled the attention of the woman away from Jaq as a pitch black shard of energy erupted from Av’niel’s outstretched hand. The jagged energy slammed in to the unsuspecting mage before she had time to react.

          Jaq released the fire that was boiling in his blood. Whatever chance the mage had for survival was quickly scorched out of existence. Her bloodied and burnt body crumpled to the floor. Jaq ran back to the Sun King’s side and checked for breathing.

          He felt a shallow breath against his skin. With all the blood it was hard to believe the Jan’caran king was still alive. The sound of fighting began to fade away outside.

          Kaven stumbled back inside the entry way and pulled the doors closed behind him. No one followed him inside. If the young Blood Mages were dead or delayed, Jaq didn’t want to know. The tired Commander looked to Jaq and then his gaze focused on the Sun King.

          “Commander Gale! The Sun King—we can still save him—“ Jaq’s voice was becoming hoarse. Kaven nodded and knelt down next to the King. He removed his cloak and wiped away thick layers of blood from the Sun King’s chest and neck.

          “You did well, young Jaq. I knew you boys wouldn’t let me down.” Kaven’s voice sounded hollow.

          “Now, let me teach you something about war you will never forget.”

          “Commander? I don’t understand. Can you…“ Jaq’s voice trailed off. Kaven gripped the king’s elegant braids and wrenched his head upwards. In a quick motion, he slid his dagger across the king’s exposed neck. The Sun King gasped as blood sputtered from his throat. Jaq stared in horror at the gaping wound.

          “You must never let your magic be taken advantage of. You were used, Jaq. And now, you will be discarded like the tools you and the others were trained to be. A war is coming, boy. You’d best get out while you still can.”

Commander Gale called out Jan’caran words that Jaq had finally learned to recognize--the call for Royal Guards.

          Kaven tossed down the bloody dagger at Jaq’s feet and turned away. Jaq heard, through the fog of confusion and terror, the sounds of armor and footsteps in the hallway. The guards were approaching fast.

          “Jaq! We have to get out of here, now!” Jaq cradled the dying body of the Sun King in his shaking arms. The blood. So much blood. He… killed him! After all this time, all he wanted was to murder the Sun King… and we helped him.

          The grand doors of the Palace exploded with ice--one of the Jan’caran Blood Mages had joined the fight.

          “They’ll be here soon…” Av’niel’s voice was frantic. The doors gave a loud shudder and blasted into a pile of dust and ice.

          Armored Jan’caran Royal Guard stepped over the splintered wood and stone remains of the doorway. Immediately their eyes fell upon the Sun King and the two bloodied boys who stood over him. Angry shouts and another Jan’caran Blood Mage rushed through the smoke.

          “Take the Citadel traitors prisoner for the murder of the Sun King!” Jaq’s world slowed to a grueling crawl. Traitors? Murder? His thoughts were sluggish as the guards approached, turning their weapon handles towards the boys. So that was Kaven’s plan all along, he just needed someone to take the fall… Someone young, looking for a fight. Someone to start the war of Jan’caro and the Blood Citadel. The war for the very laws of magic...

          Jaq heard Av’niel’s strangled cry just as the sword handle cracked against his skull. His entire existence went black.