Soul's Reckoning (Broken Well Trilogy) (23 page)

‘
You
are with Corlas?’ said Jaya. ‘Well, he hasn’t done badly for himself, has he?’

‘You do not seek to snatch the blue-haired man from us?’ said Charla, ignoring her words.

‘All we want,’ said Lalenda, and shot a glance at Jaya, ‘is to discover what has become of him. Would you not be concerned if Corlas was squished into a tiny rock?’

Charla nodded thoughtfully. She raised a hand, noting again with unease how her power had lessened, and the vines fell loose from Jaya and Lalenda and slipped back into the ground.

‘Come,’ she said. ‘I will take you to him. But try nothing sneaky, or it will be a branch through the ribs for you, understand?’

The women nodded and, hoping she had not made a mistake, Charla set out for the clearing.

•

Fahren ignored the pain in his arm. One of their assailants had flung a thorny wreath to wrap around it, which had squeezed tighter and tighter until he’d ripped it off. The attacks from the three Sprites had become easier to deal with for some reason. The wood folk seemed confused about that themselves. Now they were focusing on defence, yet even their sunset wards were not proving impenetrable.

We can finish them
, came Battu’s voice.

Fahren conjured a sunwing, which flew at the Sprites, notching an arrow to its bow. Quickly vortexes came up to meet it, and it was knocked backwards, fading.

Your thinking is limited, Throne. The ancient enemy of the Sprites was always the Ebon Elves.

Cackling, Battu weaved his hands, and from out of the air stepped a figure of legend – a humanoid with dark skin, and crystals for eyes. The Ebon stalked forward, and the Sprites’ eyes filled with fright.

There was a reason Ebons were the Sprites’ enemies
, said Fahren.
They wielded Old Magic also. But you cannot imbue your creature with such ability.

Still
, said Battu,
they are scared of it.

Sure enough, the three Sprites backed away from the advancing conjuration, all channelling together. As one they expended a large vortex, which flattened the Ebon instantly. It was a waste of power when dealing with such an insubstantial foe, and as a result the Sprites’ wards faltered. Fahren seized the opportunity. A white-hot beam sprang from his outstretched hand, puncturing a wavering ward to hit a Sprite full in the chest. The Sprite did not even have time to cry out, collapsing with a smoking hole through his heart. Fahren directed the beam onto the others, cutting through their wards easily. A second fell, sliced in half, and the third shrieked in alarm and pelted off through the trees, dropping her ward in exchange for speed.

Fahren released the beam, puffing from his exertions.

‘Hold still,’ said Battu. He set a hand over Fahren’s cut arm, rejoining the skin and even knitting the flesh beneath.

‘You have a gift for healing?’ said Fahren incredulously.

‘One of my lesser-used talents,’ admitted Battu. ‘Only because I’m sworn to help, I can assure you.’

‘Well, no thanks required then.’

‘Please don’t.’

Fahren flexed his newly mended arm. ‘Why is their power waning?’

‘What does it matter?’ said Battu. ‘Stop wondering about the why, you doddering fool, and press the advantage.’

Much as it galled him, Fahren had to admit Battu was right.

‘Come then,’ he said, and they set out after the fleeing Sprite.

•

Tyrellan supposed that, just like other races, there were Sprites who could wield magic and Sprites who could not. From the plain clothing on the bodies in the clearing beyond, he guessed these were the latter – the simple folk who saw to tasks other than battle, yet who had been caught in its hold anyway.

‘Someone’s already here,’ said Fazel.

‘If you’re in the mood to be obvious,’ growled Tyrellan, ‘I could punch you in the face.’

‘What face? I trust you will enjoy your bruised fist.’

‘Can you sense anything?’

‘In the hut,’ said Fazel. ‘A light mage and another, dimmer, presence.’

Through the smashed door of the hut strode Elessa Lanclara, holding the Stone.

‘Off you go, then, and stop her,’ ordered Tyrellan.

As for himself, he would stay in the trees – he had seen these two fight before, and knew better than to get in their way. He glanced around, found a likely trunk, and began to climb.

•

Elessa left the hut, considering the Stone. If she cast spells while she possessed it, would it suck them in, meaning she could not protect herself with magic? She tried a simple experiment, and sent forth a tiny mote of light. The mote glanced across the Stone’s surface and flew onwards unimpeded. It seemed that the Stone was, for the moment, closed.

Something pricked her senses – there was a shadow mage nearby. Glancing towards the edge of the clearing, she saw a black-robed figure emerge onto the coiled root. It pulled back its cowl, revealing the charred skull beneath.

Greetings, Elessa.

She waved a hand over her body, suffusing herself with a warm glow. Before her ward was fully raised, an invisible hand dug its nails in under the shine. She gripped it in a grip of her own, wrenching it back as if to snap its invisible wrist, and across the way Fazel recoiled. Then he stepped off the root and floated down into the clearing.

Better than last time
, he sent.

I’m a changed woman.

The Stone sprang from her grip, flying towards him. Quickly she made the air above it crash downwards, slamming it to the dirt.

Interesting
, he said.
The Stone no longer absorbs power?

Your interest will be short-lived. I will stop you again, as I stopped you before.

I pray that you do. But we do not need these threats, do we?

A snake head curled out of his darkness towards her. She waved a hand through the air, conjuring a glowing sword. Allowing her ward to part briefly, she let the snake inside, and lopped its head off almost casually.

I wanted you to win that night, Elessa. I want an end to my damnation.

We have that in common, then.

Well
, he said, breezing forward, shadows expanding all around him,
let’s hope that one of us can do the other a favour.

They came face to face in the middle of the clearing, the Stone lying an equal distance between them. As the light flowing from Elessa met Fazel’s shadows, they locked into a familiar place. If she could have, she would have thrown down her defences, let him finish her there and then – but the command from Fahren compelled her, and so she pushed against him. This, then, was what it was like for him – fighting when he did not want to, for purposes that were not his own.

What odd kinship amongst us undead
, she said.

Indeed.

A blue bolt sizzled into her ward, and she tried hard to deflect it – but he had put a lot of effort into it, and it hit her square in the chest. She flew backwards, her ribs concaved to squash her dormant heart. As she landed with a thump on her back, she looked down to see dead flesh melting over the white of her ribs, which started – immediately, and painfully – to knit themselves back together. It was almost good to feel something again, even if it was this.

She rose easily from the blow, back on her feet in an instant. The ground beneath her rumbled, and without actually breaking the surface, black jaws came yawning upwards. The conjured creature closed on her thigh and yanked downwards, its teeth scraping along her leg to shear the flesh from her bone like a boot. As the creature faded, her flesh flopped limply to the ground.

Come on, girl
, said Fazel.
You did better than this when you were alive.

Elessa surged forward, drilling him with blazing light and piercing hot beams.

There
, he said,
that’s more like it
.

Vyasinth paused just above the canopy, looking out over fields at the great battle in the distance. Dots floated above a swelling horde as Graka whirled and Zyvanix swarmed.

May your people destroy each other
, she sent her adversaries,
while your attention remains here.

Then she let the protective barriers drop. The narrowing streams feeding them fell apart, spilling their contents back into the wood. Her people needed their magic again, and defence of the wood itself no longer mattered. Those who had sought entry had already gained it.

Quickly she headed back to the clearing, where she was stilled by what she saw. The Stone lay in the open air, and two mages staggered around it – a burnt skeleton too thin for the robe that whipped around him, and a Varenkai with chunks torn from her. The skeleton conjured, and shadows of shadowmanders raced across the ground towards the woman. She gestured at the air, and translucent eagles dived down and carried the shadowmanders away.

Where was Corlas?

She flowed into the hut and there he lay, slumped against one wall, beginning to groan.

Corlas!

He grunted, pushed himself back from the wall, and cast his eyes around blearily. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘at least there’s no tree through the hut this time.’

The fight is not over! Get to your feet!

He glanced to where she swirled above him, and blinked slowly. When his eyes opened fully, they were hard. ‘Of course, my Lady. Where is my boy?’

Outside.

Corlas went to the window to stare out at the carnage.

‘How can I intervene? My power has left me.’

Our strength is greatly sapped by Arkus and Assedrynn, but there is still some remaining.

His finger twitched, and she saw him draw on the power she had returned.

‘There is some,’ he said.

He went to the door.

•

Tyrellan crammed further into the shade between the branch he crouched on and the tree’s trunk. As Elessa and Fazel fought each other in the clearing, he had to admit there was something odd about being here again. Was it a good sign that things had come full circle like this? And if so, a good sign for whom? His practical mind clashed with his faith. There was some kind of unseen force at play, of that he was sure – but was it beyond his control to influence the outcome?

Above the crackle of magic, he heard sounds approaching below, and tensed.

‘There!’ said Fahren.

‘Looks like fun,’ came Battu’s voice.

•

Corlas stepped out of his hut as a cloud moved above, for a moment casting him half in shadow and half in light. He leaned on the doorframe, head still spinning. Some of his power went to the bruise on his brow, tightening it up and ebbing away the pain. More trickled into him from his surrounds: no longer the dry stream bed he had lapped at before, yet not the torrent needed to quench his thirst either.

He did not know what to do about Fazel and the increasingly bloody Elessa. They seemed certain, however, about what to do with each other, and Corlas saw no reason to intervene until one of them was destroyed.

We do not need the Stone in our very hands
, sent Vyasinth.
As long as it stays within the wood, there’s no place they can hide it where I cannot touch him, once he emerges.

You are certain he
will
emerge?
said Corlas.

Nothing is certain.

Comforting.
He grunted.
He damn well better emerge
, he thought,
or I will destroy Fahren and Battu, and all who helped them.

Surprisingly, at that point both targets of his enmity stepped into the clearing. The Throne held up a hand for caution, while beside him Battu wore an expression somewhere between grimace and grin. And then, further up near the coiled root, Charla appeared with two others – he recognised Jaya, and there was a Mire Pixie too. His brain fuzzed as he tried to comprehend these two strange groups, old alliances seemingly fallen away. Fahren and Charla saw each other at the same time, and instantly their wards sprang up. Battu backed away, unable to erect his own ward while he stood so close to Fahren.

Battu.
Oh, how this man had dogged him through life. Images cascaded through Corlas’s mind: the Shining Mines shaking around him as blue whirlpools boiled in the sky .
 
.
 
. cold steel sliding into his side as beyond, on a hill, the Shadowdreamer rained down destruction .
 
.
 
. the night Battu had sent his minions to capture his child .
 
.
 
. Losara being taken, far away where Corlas could never go, never find him .
 
.
 
. the weaver bird, Iassia, spinning his lies and chirping merrily at his own treachery .
 
.
 
. Battu, Battu, Battu.

Everywhere things were happening, yet his sight narrowed to this man, this twisted, baleful man. Blood rushed in his ears, and the core of his being howled for Battu’s head. He took a step forward, shooting out his hands, and Battu’s eyes flickered to see the vortex coming. A shadow ward showed the slightest sign of coming to be .
 
.
 
. then the vortex lifted Battu from his feet, sent him soaring out of the clearing with limbs trailing.

Not enough!
Corlas cursed. His reserves were still low, and it had consumed most of his power to fire off that one spell. It would be dangerous to try another, yet he felt sure that Battu still lived.

•

Tyrellan saw Battu go flying and, quick as a cat, was on his feet. He ran along the branch and leaped for the next tree, sinking his claws into the trunk. Hand over hand he worked his way around, until his feet found another branch. There, below, Battu had landed upon a soft cushioning of undergrowth. At the least he would be winded, but hopefully he was also stunned from the foreign magic that had hit him. Tyrellan knew he might have only moments.

He drew his sword, clutched the hilt with both hands, and dropped head-first from the branch. As he fell he held the blade before him, leading him towards the ground. Battu opened unfocused eyes, which rolled to see Tyrellan plummeting. He frowned uncomprehendingly, tried to raise a hand, but was slow to do so as his coordination momentarily failed him. The sword, with all of Tyrellan’s weight behind it, drove through his chest with a crunch and into the earth beneath. Battu’s back tried to arch but he was pinned fast, his legs kicking out straight.

Tyrellan balanced for a moment on the end of the sword, his lean muscles bulging, his agile body still horizontal.

‘Greetings, my lord.’

Battu wheezed through ruined lungs. Tyrellan let his legs curl in, flipping down gently by Battu’s side. Battu’s mouth opened and closed as if trying to capture escaping words, the fingers of his prostrate arms dancing across the ground as though he might find something there to save him.

‘Seems all your betrayal,’ said Tyrellan, ‘has amounted to nothing.’

With jerky little movements Battu turned his head, to stare in horror at Tyrellan.

Tyrellan raised a rock, and brought it down on Battu’s face.

•

Like a sudden awakening, Battu came back to himself. He floated as if in sluggish water, turned over to see his body beneath. Beside it, Tyrellan looked up as if he could see him, while the world around faded to grey. Realisation dawned.

The First Slave had killed him.

Anger came, but sparked only briefly as he felt an unmistakable pull, and knew the Great Well of Assedrynn awaited. Then it was only fear he felt, fear of the fate he’d tried so hard to avoid.

No
, he tried to shout, clawing at the air as if he could swim back to his body. But this was no journey in the Shadowdream, and there was nowhere to travel save the ultimate destination. The great risk he’d taken had been stymied by bad luck and an opportunistic goblin, and the Dark Gods would be waiting for him to account for his sins. The most he could hope for now was that the light would win, and the Great Well of Assedrynn would soon be broken, releasing him from whatever torment they saw fit to visit on him.

Maybe there was one last thing he could do, at least. Vengeful to the end, as Battu was, the idea came naturally, offering itself up with a malicious wink. Was it wise? He did not wish to give Tyrellan reason to bring him back as an undead slave – and yet maybe that would be a way to escape Assedrynn. At any rate,
wise
was never a word that had bothered him overly.

Battu released a part of himself, his legacy flowing back into the world. Then the pull became too great, and he journeyed on towards the Dark Gods, in dread.

•

Bit of havoc round these parts
, said Fazel, pushing aside a fireball that went roaring away to hit a tree near where Jaya and Lalenda peeped out from hiding.

Some things never change
, replied Elessa.

Scant paces away, Fahren and a Sprite woman were locked in their own struggle. Corlas was heading towards them. Meanwhile, Battu’s presence in the trees seemed to have faded. Fazel took no solace from that – such an end was what he had coveted.

A cloud passed over him, and he drew strength from the shade it cast. Dully he knew he was gaining ground. He forced his way forward, thrusting into Elessa’s ward, and curled shadows to rip it apart. She fell backwards onto her rump, her skeletal leg stretched out before her. He had but a moment to press his advantage before she erected another ward .
 
.
 
. but if he killed her, once again hope of finding peace for himself would be lost. With a heavy heart he extended a finger, yet he desperately did not want to end her, this one who had nearly bested him before.

So he hesitated.

Light expanded from her as she returned to her feet. Fazel stood dumbly, wondering what had happened. There had been a clear opportunity for him to attack, and yet he had not taken it, even though that went against his express orders.

What is this?
he thought.

What is what?
she responded, though he had not meant her to hear him.

He turned a hand upon himself and, hardly daring to dream it possible, directed a little power inwards. The beginnings of a spell that would destroy his animated bones forever began to form. He expected the attempt to fail, for his hand to turn away of its own accord, as the directives inlaid in him took over – but they did not.

At his feet the Stone flipped over, vibrating.

There is no Shadowdreamer.

What?

His soul has gone out of this world. There is no one tying me to Skygrip Castle.

For the first time in years, Fazel experienced delight. How long, he wondered, had he been free? Since the moment Losara had disappeared into the Stone? Had he simply been following orders out of habit, because he was so used to obeying them? It had not occurred to him for a second that things might have changed.

He increased the power of his spell. All that remained was to release it.

Wait!
she sent desperately, even as her beams of light played over his still-standing ward. He could drop it now, he supposed.

What?

Don’t leave me! You cannot leave me!

I must.

You’d consign another to the fate you so deplore?

Fazel glanced at the Stone. Something was happening, for it was thrumming violently, making little bounces over the ground. Not much time, perhaps, until someone came out of it – someone who might constrict him again.

Please
, she sent,
you share some responsibility for what has happened to me.

No, I don’t.

Please. You were a good man, once.

Her remaining eye blinked, and he knew that if she could have, she would have cried. Then, maddeningly, he remembered himself as the man he had been, who had travelled Kainordas helping his people. He had removed blights from crops, chased down thieves and murderers, beaten back monsters and shadows wherever he found them, healed hurts and overseen disputes .
 
.
 
. and for some reason, at that moment he remembered a little sundart with a broken wing, too badly hurt to be saved, which he had put out of its misery.

He had been a good man, once.

He sighed.

Hardly able to believe what he was doing, Fazel dropped the spell that would finish him and redirected his attack to her. Hoping to re-create the moment they’d just had, he tried to rip into her ward – but now she was expecting it, and he hit a wall.

They could fight like this forever, he thought despairingly.

A rent appeared in the air over the Stone, beyond which he could see a realm of tumultuous flashing colours. It was happening. He was running out of time.

He dropped his ward and walked towards her.

What are you doing?
she screamed.

A light bolt hit his arm, shattering it at the elbow. Ignoring the blow, he strode into her light, and instantly his bones began to smoke. A thousand white-hot spots cooked him, the extremities of his charred body turning to white ash. All his power went into keeping himself moving – it was as if he struggled against a great wind, as her ward tried to fling him out even as it destroyed him. If he could just avoid a spell or two .
 
.
 
.

She flung a fireball at him, too close for him to push it away. It burst where his stomach would have been, exploding his spine to fragments. His torso hit the ground heavily, and pain thundered in his bones. She stared down at him in consternation.

You seek to end yourself without saving me
, she said accusingly.

No
, he said, and his remaining hand seized her leg.