Destiny's Rift (Broken Well Trilogy) (33 page)

The creature seemed somehow familiar, and Bel sent his mind trawling back through Fahren’s endless fauna lessons. He knew there was nothing natural like this living in Fenvarrow, but . . . and he had it. It looked like a giant shadowmander.

‘How in Arkus’s name did he create
that
?’ he muttered to himself.

Olakanzar breathed fire once again, hitting the mander full in the face. It did not budge, instead lifting its neck to let the flames wash along it, almost mockingly. Then it hissed loudly, its dark eyes visible through the flames, and slithered forward. Olakanzar tried to shuffle backwards, fearful now of this apparently invulnerable foe. He could not do so quickly enough, though, for his legs were hurt and his wing destroyed. His head swung to find Bel, whose gaze locked with the bulging eye that suddenly seemed so pitiful. Bel lifted the reins of his horse, ready to go to his aid, but felt Jaya’s gentle grasp on his arm.

‘We cannot help him,’ she said.

The shadowmander pounced, its claws hooking into the dragon’s side. It hauled itself into place to seize Olakanzar’s neck in its mouth, and bit down hard. The dragon gave a strangled gasp that turned almost to a hiccup, followed by a last spurt of flame. The shadowmander pulled a claw free to slash at his face, raking the bulbous eye, bursting it to a dripping mess of white and bloody cords that swung from the socket.

‘Itchy!’ gurgled Olakanzar. ‘Itchy no more . . .’

His head crashed to the ground as the blood leaked from his neck, and all thrashing ceased. The shadowmander gave his body one final shake, and slipped free.

Shadow mages began to appear upon the walls.

‘Kainordans!’ the cry went up. Blue bolts started crackling towards them.

‘Protect the blue-haired man!’ shouted Nicha. ‘Retreat!’

Bel saw lightfists raise their hands to conjure a ward around him. As the glow descended upon him, however, it was sucked away, into the Stone hanging around his neck. The mages looked confused and started to try again.

‘Never mind that!’ shouted Bel.

A soldier screamed as he fell nearby, blue threads playing over him. The shadowmander rounded on Bel’s company, tearing across the ground towards them.

‘Retreat!’ called Bel, turning his horse. He nodded to Jaya, and she galloped away.

The entire group wheeled about, fleeing from magic and the approaching mander. Some of the soldiers flipped around in their saddles to fire arrows at it, but each bounced harmlessly off as if hitting impenetrable stone. The mander pounced again, knocking soldiers sprawling, trampling horses underfoot, snapping and flinging bodies. Bel caught a glimpse of its open mouth – its throat was completely sealed; there was no way it could actually swallow.

Not truly alive
, he thought.

Adrenaline was pumping but he still had no sense of any path – the mander did not even seem to register as a target. It was something else, something evil, which stood apart from the world.

Lightfists were flinging up wards wherever they could over the retreating troops, and while these stopped the shadow bolts, they did nothing at all to halt the mander. It ran right into the thick of them, flailing its tail and cracking skulls, breaking the legs of horses, swiping with its claws and shaking shrieking soldiers in its teeth. Bel saw one fallen rider manage to rise briefly by the mander’s side, raise his sword and lunge it at the creature. The blade failed to penetrate and instead slid down its body with such force that the soldier went down after it.

I led them to this downfall. My impatience has cost them their lives.

He shook his head to clear it.

So be it. That is the nature of war.

He saw Nicha pull one of the hammers from her side, wave a hand over it to charge it with light, and fling it at the mander’s open mouth. It whirled in, then ricocheted around inside like a bee in a barrel, with a force that should have shattered the mander’s fangs – but only gave it a moment’s pause. It cocked its head, bit down hard, and when it opened its mouth again the hammer flew out, back to Nicha’s waiting hand. She cursed and slapped her reins down hard.

Bel felt his speed increase somehow, and the horse below him squealed in alarm. Now that they were out of range of shadow spells, the lightfists had dropped the wards to concentrate wholly on escape. Magic aided the horses and they all but flew along the ground. Not every soldier benefited, however, for there were too many for the mages to handle them all.

So
, he thought amidst the mayhem,
their spells can target my horse, just not me. Interesting.

He saw with relief that Jaya was ahead of him. Others fell behind, succumbing to the threshing whirl of scarlet – and then suddenly the creature stopped. As a few stragglers raced past it, it managed to knock two from their horses. They landed ahead of it and Bel expected to see the mander finish them off – but instead it stalked along some invisible line, gnashing in anger. The fallen struggled to their feet.

‘Fetch those soldiers!’ Bel shouted, reining in his horse. No one else had noticed that the mander had halted, and no one seemed willing to cease the retreat. Cursing, he rode back and jumped down to help the first soldier, a woman with a massive bruise on the side of her head.

‘You’re safe!’ he told her, lifted her up onto his horse and gave it a slap on the rump.

The other soldier had collapsed to his knees with a large rent in his belly. Beyond saving.

A hiss came from nearby, and his head jerked around to find the mander watching him, motionless but for its flickering tongue. He would not have thought that void could contain such hate as showed in its eyes.

‘So,’ he said, ‘what’s the issue, my dear? You cannot pass?’

The mander tensed, then sprang, and crashed into an unseen barrier. As it sprawled Bel approached, careful not to cross the line marked by its scuffed footprints in the dust. It righted itself and stalked forward, until they stood almost eye to eye.

‘What are you?’ he said.

‘Bel!’ came Jaya’s call, and he glanced back to see her on her horse.

‘It cannot pass,’ he told her, waving at it. He drew his sword and, knowing that it would do no good, swung it over the line at the mander’s face. The blow glanced off, leaving neither dent nor mark. The mander made no sign that it had even felt the attempt.

‘Bel, come on, you idiot!’

He backed away, turned, and hoisted himself up behind her. She wheeled the horse around and together they galloped off, leaving the mander stalking back and forth at the edge of its perimeter.

•

Losara stood on the battlements watching the Kainordans flee. Perhaps some would have thought him cowardly for the way he had fallen to shadow when the dragon attacked, and gone deep into the fort, but he remembered all too well the potency of the magic fire. It had been a sensible move – he could not win this war if he was dead.

The stone walls were hot, still smoking, with sticky patches underfoot. Behind him the toppled tower had crushed many buildings when it had fallen to smash through the wall. Thank Assedrynn Lalenda had not been in it at the time.

Bel had proven resourceful once again, he reflected. It was amazing indeed that his
other
had somehow managed to recruit such a powerful ally to his aid. Had it not been for the shadowmander, things could have gone much worse. And yet the mander also troubled him. Once it had been out on the field, in pursuit, there was nothing he could do to control it. It would have killed Bel if it had reached him in time. The best Losara had been able to manage was to instruct Tyrellan to stay put, so as not to shift the creature’s boundaries. It was with great relief that he’d seen his
other
get away.

He considered the corpse-littered battlefield as the shadowmander sniffed about, nudging bodies here and there to make sure they were really dead. If he unleashed the beast on an army that his
other
controlled, it would be like giving himself a death sentence.
Well
, he thought,
I will just have to choose my targets wisely.

By his side Tyrellan stood admiring the view.

‘The mander proves a most excellent addition to your army, my lord,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ said Losara. He noticed black birds in the sky circling above the corpses, and saw one land. The mander tore towards it, startling it, leaping into the air as it took flight too late, and snapped it up.

‘It will not even allow their birds to feed,’ said Tyrellan. ‘Their dead will be left to rot in the elements, a warning to any who dare attack us.’

And how many did we lose?
wondered Losara. Roma was off accounting for survivors, but Losara was sure that at least a hundred of their own had been killed. At least.

‘How terrible,’ he said, ‘that we must exchange such violence.’

Tyrellan sent him a sidelong glance, orb eyes glinting. ‘I have to disagree, lord.’

Losara sighed. It was vexatious that he could take no joy in this work.

‘Where do we strike next?’ asked Tyrellan.

Losara let his eyes turn west, steeling his resolve to continue what he’d started. ‘The Shining Mines,’ he said. ‘And then . . . every other place.’

The Traitor Within

The Traitor Within

The Traitor Within

Hesitantly Fahren opened the door to the room that held Battu, still trapped within the cell. The former dark lord was sitting at a table reading a book as he swallowed small fish piled up in a bowl – raw, by his request. His robe had been cleaned, and he was no longer the bedraggled man who had arrived at the Halls.

‘Ah,’ he said, glancing up, ‘my Throne. I was wondering when I’d see you again.’

It annoyed Fahren when Battu called him that.

Battu waved the book in a friendly gesture to approach, as if inviting Fahren into his quarters. Then he held up the cover to show Fahren.

‘
The History of Kainordas
,’ he said. ‘Interesting reading. Remarkable how differently things can be remembered by different sides.’

Fahren took a seat before the cage. ‘But we are no longer on different sides.’

‘You are right, of course,’ said Battu, dropping his fork into the bowl in front of him. ‘I have made that plain enough. You, however, are slow to reach the same conclusion.’

‘Do you still wish to see Losara defeated?’

‘Nothing more.’

Fahren considered his next words carefully. ‘What if I told you our plan is not to kill him?’

‘Oh?’ said Battu, a flash of confusion flitting across his face.

‘Do not misunderstand,’ said Fahren. ‘He must be defeated. But Arkus has instructed that Bel and Losara be re-merged into one, using the Stone of Evenings Mild.’

Battu frowned. ‘Which can only be operated by mages of shadow and light working together,’ he said thoughtfully.

‘Yes. Once it is done, Bel will emerge as the dominant personality, with the entity known as Losara absorbed into him. Gone, effectively. Dead, you might say.’

‘
You
might,’ said Battu, and grinned. ‘I see why this troubles you, Throne. Intriguing. You have not mentioned before how much you need me for this plan to work. Evidently you aren’t sure that I will see it as the revenge I so desire.’

‘An adequate summation,’ said Fahren. He considered saying more, but decided to let Battu do the talking, and leaned back in his chair with a raised eyebrow. Battu stared at him for a moment, then stood and began to pace back and forth along the brightly shining bars.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘we must all make compromises to get what we want. No doubt you see it as an enormous compromise that I, within your power, am even still alive.’

Fahren inclined his head and Battu chuckled.

‘So, it is a compromise for me to help you, and a compromise for you to let me. I suppose I should be happy that, should your plan succeed, there will be no other Shadowdreamer sitting on my throne. And the Dark Gods,’ his expression twisted, ‘will be robbed of their precious champion.’

‘Yet it will not be your throne any more either, Battu,’ said Fahren quietly.

‘What?’

‘You will not be reclaiming any throne,’ Fahren said. ‘Surely that has not escaped you. If our plan works, there will be no more Shadowdreamer, no more Skygrip, no more Fenvarrow. It is victory we seek, not to reinstate you in your rightful place.’

‘Yes, yes, of course I know that,’ snarled Battu. ‘I know it keenly – the fact that I have nothing left to lose is in part what brings me to this point. And consider this, Throne . . . I now have a vested interest in your victory beyond mere personal satisfaction.’

‘And what is that?’ said Fahren dubiously.

‘If the shadow is triumphant,’ replied Battu, ‘then upon my death, my soul will return to the Dark Gods. Of course we could perform the rituals needed to convert my soul to light, but then my magic would be no good to you in using the Stone. So, if I am to avoid an eternity of punishment for my crimes . . .’

‘You must see the Dark Gods defeated,’ said Fahren.

‘Indeed. If they are no more, they will have no hold over the souls grown in any land . . . in the
new
land.’ He prodded a finger into the glistening fish, then sucked it clean and smacked his lips. ‘Much as it irks me to think I may spend eternity in the light, at least my soul will eventually be reborn and I won’t remember anything of my former life . . . as opposed to suffering for time immemorial.’

‘I see you have thought this through.’

‘I’ve had little else to occupy me.’

Fahren reached a decision. Be it gamble or not, he had little choice. With a flick of his wrist, he lowered the bars of the cage. Battu’s eyes widened, and he gave as close to a genuine smile as Fahren had ever seen on him.

‘Thought you never would,’ he said. ‘And now . . . as is only fair.’

Battu stepped down from the platform to kneel before Fahren.

‘My Throne,’ he said expansively, bowing his head, ‘I am yours to command.’

Fahren felt a shiver go down his spine. ‘Then come with me,’ he said, ‘for a walk. It is stuffy in here.’

•

Together they went through the Open Halls, causing heads to turns and exclamations to be uttered.

‘Do you think this wise?’ Battu said from under his hood, already uncomfortable in the sunlight.

‘If you are to serve with us, the people must grow accustomed to the sight of you,’ replied Fahren smoothly.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Nowhere in particular. I find that walking helps me think.’

‘As you wish,’ muttered Battu. His determination to engender trust was agreeable, but Fahren did not let it go to his head.

‘There is news,’ said Fahren, ‘of which you are not aware. Losara has taken Holdwith.’

‘Oh yes?’ said Battu. Fahren sensed a stray twine of hate curling from Battu’s head, resentment that Losara was free to do the things Battu had never been allowed to achieve. Good. ‘And have you sought reprisal?’

‘I did not,’ said Fahren. ‘And yet there has been one. Bel took matters into his own hands and attacked the fort. He had aid, but not aid enough. It seems Losara has created something formidable – more formidable than I could have foreseen.’

‘What?’

‘An enormous shadowmander, seemingly impervious to both magical and physical force.’

Battu shot him a look of surprise.

‘Do you know of any magic that could create such a creature?’ said Fahren.

‘No.’

‘There were no . . . projects . . . in place when you took your leave of Fenvarrow?’

‘No. Although Losara had just returned from visiting the gods, so who knows what secrets they revealed to him? They also sent him on a pilgrimage around Fenvarrow, though to what purpose, I was not privy.’ Bitterness again.

‘I see.’

Fahren fell silent. He had been hoping, more fervently than he’d let on, that Battu would have some knowledge or clue as to what the creature was, or how it could be defeated. Truth be told, he was at a loss as to what to make of the reports he’d received.

‘I did have a thought, years ago,’ said Battu. ‘The shadowmanders, as you no doubt know, live along the border and instinctively attack anything born of light. I once thought to myself: what a shame it is they do not grow larger.’

‘It seems they do.’

‘It sounds akin to legacy magic,’ said Battu, ‘on some enormous scale.’

‘On an impossible scale,’ agreed Fahren. He had already run through that possibility in his head a dozen times, but it seemed inconceivable.

‘I fear I must journey to the Morningbridge Peaks,’ he went on. ‘If Losara has learned something from his gods, maybe I can learn something from mine.’

‘The Morningbridge Peaks?’ echoed Battu dully.

‘Yes. The last place in the world you would wish to go. And so, to prove your loyalty, you will come with me.’

Battu stopped short, staring in horror from underneath his hood.

‘Now,’ said Fahren, ‘I want to introduce you to your
honour guard
of lightfists, who will accompany you at all times during your stay here at the Open Halls.’

•

Bel watched Nicha reorganising the surviving troops. She seemed cross with him for placing them in danger, against her advice. They had lost a fair few, but that was the way of battle, wasn’t it? He could not take on the burden of each individual death, or else he’d never be able to move a pace.

He well remembered the aftermath of his first mission, to Drel Forest, when he had fallen into a black mood over failing to save his comrades. What was different? Those soldiers had been his friends, or maybe it had been the influence of that damn weaver . . . or the understanding that while his destiny might protect him, it did not necessarily protect those around him. It had also been the first time he had enjoyed killing, and perhaps he had mistaken the emptiness he felt after rising from that fug as guilt.

He could not afford guilt.

His hand closed around the Stone. It felt right there, hanging around his neck. While it had stopped the magic of the lightfists helping him, that seemed an acceptable trade-off for being immune to all magic. It seemed, in fact, fair. If his counterpart was going to have all this magical power, how could Bel hope to defy him without balancing the odds somehow? Even if the Stone was never used to fulfil the purpose they had retrieved it for, it seemed a most worthwhile thing to possess. He could cut a swathe through the heart of any shadow army, untouched by spells. They would only be able to send swords against him – and swords did not worry him.

Only the shadowmander concerned him. Whether it was magical or not, it did not seem to care for the rules. But then again, he also knew, Losara could not set it upon him.

Immune from your magic
, he thought.
Immune from your creature. And I have the object that can end your trespassing in the world, take you in where you belong and bury you where your screams can’t be heard. Truly, Losara, you have much to fear in the coming days.

•

Fahren sighed as he lay down to sleep. There was at least one good thing about being the Throne, he supposed – the bed was bigger than any one man had a right to.

The latest development at Holdwith was truly worrying. No army could stand against a creature as impervious as the one Bel’s report described. Perhaps Bel was simply mistaken – after all, his troops had been caught unawares, and there could hardly have been time for the lightfists with him to mount a properly concentrated attack. Besides, as with all magically resistant monsters, there were always other ways to attack . . . and yet Bel had said the mander did not react to physical force either. The creature was something new, something unknown, and they faced enough unknowns already.

To Morningbridge, then
, he thought.
Tomorrow. And pray that Arkus will speak to me.

Another thought tickled the edge of his mind, treacherously, unwelcome. It had been there ever since that terrible day he’d entered these very quarters to find Losara standing over Naphur’s dead body. When Bel had come to confront his
other
, Losara had said, ‘The way to defeat me – it would not be to strike
yourself
down, would it?’

He had never asked Bel about it but could guess what Losara meant. The two blue-haired men shared a soul, so if one fell, it made sense that so would the other. Thus, if it really came down to the bones, if everything went bad, if it turned out there was no other way to stop Losara . . . there would still be
that
way.

He screwed up his eyes, unwilling to face his own dark thoughts, unable to get comfortable in his huge, plush bed.