Destiny's Rift (Broken Well Trilogy)

by Sam Bowring

  ‘I see. And do we still have any of those catapults, or materials?’

  ‘There is a catapult or two, but no tar, to my knowledge.’

  Lalenda frowned. ‘Very well. Off you go, then.’

  The goblins bowed thankfully and departed, and Grimra circled close.

  ‘What does flutterbug want with such stuff?’

  ‘Fire,’ she said, ‘is the best way to destroy the undead.’

  •

  Fire was something outside her experience, so she set off for the only place she knew of where someone obviously knew how to make it – the castle kitchen. Upon seeing her enter, Saray headed towards a cupboard, perhaps thinking she wanted more to eat.

  ‘Saray,’ she said, ‘never mind about that.’

  He paused, a quizzical expression on his face. ‘What can I do for you then, mistress?’

  ‘Show me how you make fire.’

  He seemed uncertain. ‘It is . . . a dangerous thing, miss. Maybe, if you wanted something heated, I could –’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Show me.’

  He drew himself up. ‘Very well.’

  He gestured that she approach the fireplace, and she went over to kneel next to him.

  ‘This,’ he said, ‘is our way. There are others, of course, but I don’t know them.’

  Next to the fireplace was a shelf cut into the rock, full of pieces of wood. Saray reached in and drew out a bundle of twigs and leaves, and a tin.

  ‘Tinder,’ he said. ‘Now, to speed things along, sometimes we’ll dip it in this.’ He prised open the tin, dipped the bundle into the liquid inside, then laid it in the fireplace.

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘Fish oil, though any oil will do, really. Get back to work!’ he snapped at some of the other Greys who had crowded around to watch. Sheepishly, they moved off.

  ‘Now,’ he continued, reaching for more objects, ‘what we have here is called a flint, which you can use with a knife or any blade . . . hit the knife on the flint, and you jump out a spark. Just so.’

  He proceeded to whack the flint with a knife over the tinder. After a couple of tries a spark fell, and as it hit the oiled tinder, a flame jumped up instantly. Saray reached into the shelf and withdrew some larger sticks, which he placed upon the flames. Soon they too were smoking.

  ‘You need to keep feeding in bigger and bigger pieces of wood,’ he explained. ‘Soon enough you will get hot coals, and –’

  ‘How much of that oil do you have?’ asked Lalenda.

  ‘Um . . . well, just this, in here, but in storage, well . . . I’m not sure, several barrels?’

  ‘Show me,’ she said.

  •

  Grimra seemed to be struggling, and she was glad she hadn’t tried to make him lug more than one barrel. Although he could manifest a physical grip to some degree, it was all claws and fangs, and she worried that he would burst the barrel before she was ready. Rents had already appeared in several places, and drops of oil were raining down before them as they dropped once more towards Duskwood.

  ‘Flutterbug is sure this not hurt poor Grimra?’ he asked for the tenth time.

  ‘We will get you well clear before we set it off,’ she assured him, smiling at the first nerves she’d ever seen in the ghost.

  As they drew nearer, she searched the wood for a likely spot. She wanted somewhere near the bowl, but not the bowl itself, for she did not fancy having to dive through all those wraiths. Close enough, she saw a flat area where the trees had mostly collapsed, and pointed. ‘There.’

  As Grimra moved away she found herself a ledge on the cliff to land on. She watched the barrel moving over the wood to the place she had indicated . . . then it suddenly dropped as Grimra let go. It plummeted to hit a pile of wood and burst open nicely. She bent and began to unpack things from a small satchel – a torch wrapped with rags, which she proceeded to soak in the oil tin she’d taken from the kitchens, a flint and a knife.

  ‘Me be doing what crazed flutterbug wants,’ came Grimra’s reproachful voice from beside her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Now head a little further up, but be ready to come and give me a lift if I need one. I don’t know how flames affect ghosts, but best not take the chance.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Grimra firmly.

  She lit the torch, uncomfortable holding such a thing in her hand, with the warm wafts it sent against her skin. Everything in her cried out to fling it away, but she tightened her grip and took off from the ledge. Gliding down to where the barrel had split, she hurled the torch into its open rib cage.

  Flames leaped up with alarmingly immediate ferocity. As they spread, a ghoul she hadn’t seen camouflaged in the wood pile stood up, burning, strangely silent as it was engulfed.

  Quickly she wheeled upwards, flapping for all she was worth, as beneath her smoke began to rise. Whatever magic Assidax had used to keep the wood dry was having the opposite effect of protection.

  When she was some hundred paces up, Lalenda stopped to hover and check her handiwork. A wraith glided in, and flames jumped to run along its length. Maybe no mortal weapon would harm such a creature, but fire seemed to be something else entirely. The wraith twisted as if caught in the caress of some strange lover, and melted away.

  ‘Let us be gone, pixie,’ came Grimra’s voice.

  ‘Just a moment,’ she said.

  The fire was creeping towards the bowl. From out of the thicker tree line, a monstrous sword flashed into view, orange in the approaching heat. Molluvial hauled himself out to stare at the fire, then looked up at her. There was something conveyed in that gaze, she felt sure, though it was hard to tell what. He did not flee, nor did he rush towards the flames. Perhaps he could not seek out his own end, or perhaps he knew it would find him no matter what.

  Smoke began to make her cough, and she knew it was becoming dangerous to tarry. She would need all the breath she could muster for her second journey up to Skygrip today.

  ‘Help me, Grimra,’ she said, and he whirled about her.

  Up they went, away from the glowing red snakes that ran in all directions beneath them, fattening and joining each other. The black smoke that billowed up would soon be seen for many leagues around.

  Her deeds this day would not go unnoticed. Duskwood burned and, after a long wait, the souls trapped there were finally returning to the Great Well of Assedrynn. An unfamiliar sense of accomplishment fuelled her as she beat her wings, a self-worth not derived from her value as a prophet. No longer was she simply a mouthpiece who told others about great feats to be done – now she could do them herself. She had redressed a great wrong, succeeding where Battu had failed, all on her own, and it felt good.

  Caretaker, she thought, and laughed as she climbed.

  Crystalweb

  Crystalweb

  Crystalweb

  A faded sign hung above a fork in the road. One way

  continued following the curve of the mountains and read ‘Valdurn’, and the other went south-east and said ‘Crystalweb’. Losara considered them, trying to recall Tyrellan’s map of Dennali.

  ‘Which way?’ Bel asked.

  Tell him to go right, Losara sent.

  That is not the way.

  It is a longer way, is all. I, unlike my counterpart, am in no rush.

  Fazel pointed down the right-hand path. ‘This way.’

  As they continued onto grassy plains, in the distance ahead the path ran into a group of trees. There was something odd about the way they twinkled in the sunlight.

  ‘Those have to be crystal trees!’ said Hiza excitedly.

  Bel nudged Jaya. ‘I never knew he was such a flora enthusiast.’

  Losara observed that she did not seem to receive his humour well and wondered, not for the first time today, why she seemed somewhat cold with him. He found it interesting that, while they loved each other, there was still this capacity for ill feeling. Then again, had he not himself argued with Lalenda before journeying to join Bel’s group? Was she
still angry with him?

  They drew closer to what was, indeed, an entire wood made up of crystal trees. It was the leaves that sparkled, each one razor-thin and transparent as glass. As they caught the sun, they sent patterns of light dancing down onto the pure white bark of the trunks, rippling the wood with all the colours of the spectrum. The path through was raised higher than the ground, above a network of smooth white roots which were peppered by deposits of papery bark and shining crystal shards.

  ‘Is it safe in there?’ asked Hiza.

  ‘As long as the wind doesn’t blow,’ said Fazel.

  ‘Come on,’ said Bel. ‘I see no shards on the path – there must be some kind of enchantment that keeps it clear.’ He sent a questioning glance at Losara, who in turn sensed, to his surprise, that Bel was right.

  ‘Some kind of displacement spell,’ Losara said. ‘When the shards fall, they are steered away from the path.’

  Bel led the way in, and soon they were surrounded by the strange trees. Leaves dropped now and then to spin overhead, slow and easy. They never landed on the path, but frequently the travellers heard a brief shattering as a leaf hit ground or branch.

  Losara let his senses quest and was worried to discover that they were surrounded by tiny, magical beings of light. He could not see what they were exactly, for they made bright blotches in his perception. He glanced about, trying to locate one with true sight alone. A powdery white moth took off from a tree trunk against which it had appeared perfectly camouflaged, but that wasn’t what he searched for.

  ‘Look,’ said M’Meska, extending a claw. By the side of the path, between two trees, hung a spider web. It shone crystal, as spider webs do . . . the difference being, Losara realised, that it was crystal. When the web’s owner appeared, Losara had the answer to what he’d been sensing.

  Although the creature, about the size of a fist, had the appearance of a large spider, it was entirely transparent. It paused, seeming to watch them with a face full of gleaming eyes, then clicked its mandibles and walked onto its web with a tic tic tic.

  ‘Fahren never told me of such a creature,’ said Bel.

  ‘Perhaps he did not foresee the need,’ said Fazel. ‘The crystal spiders live only here.’

  ‘They’re actually made from crystal?’ said Jaya, watching the spider with avid interest.

  ‘Yes,’ said Fazel. ‘Living crystal.’ Even his usual dry tone seemed to possess a touch of wonder.

  Could it be, Losara sent him, that despite your years, there are still things in the world you have not yet seen?

  It seems there are, said Fazel.

  ‘I wonder,’ said Jaya, easing forward, ‘how much one of those is worth.’

  ‘Jaya,’ chuckled Bel. ‘You are not going to fill your pack with crawling insects, even if they are made of crystal.’

  ‘Just imagine what a noble might pay to possess such an exotic thing!’

  ‘They would not survive outside the wood, miss,’ said Fazel, his even tone returned. ‘They are magic, and the magic that animates them is here.’

  ‘Bah,’ said Jaya.

  One of the white moths fluttered overhead, swerving and circling. It hit the web with a soft impact and stuck, beating its powdery wings haplessly. The spider lowered itself on a fine crystal thread to sink fangs into its prize. They could see the blood travelling up inside them to fill its transparent belly.

  Hiza shivered. ‘Tell me those things can’t come onto the path?’

  ‘I see no webs overhanging,’ said Fazel. ‘It is a safe assumption.’

  As they travelled on, they saw more spiders in the trees around them, scurrying along branches or hanging from webs. It began to rain, a light sun shower. Droplets hit the webs and fractured into mist, sending up more tiny focal points for the sun’s rays to shine through. Rainbows of different sizes danced over every surface. Losara found the multifaceted display of lights a little unsettling, but knew he was witnessing something extraordinary.

  ‘My goodness,’ Jaya said, with uncharacteristic awe.

  ‘What?’ said Bel.

  ‘Well . . . don’t you think it’s beautiful?’

  Bel glanced around. ‘I guess,’ he said. ‘It certainly is . . . interesting.’

  ‘Interesting?’ said Jaya in disbelief.

  Losara heard in Bel a tone he was sure he recognised in himself. It came when he did not know how he felt about something. He decided to wonder openly.

  ‘Does this not,’ he said, ‘give you all the more resolve to fight for our cause?’ He tried to inject enthusiasm into his tone, drawing on his memories of how his pilgrimage had made him appreciate his own land.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Bel.

  ‘Well,’ said Losara, ‘only that to witness such a spectacle . . . it must fuel your desire to protect it, must give you strength.’

  Bel stared around, frowning. After a time his expression went blank, and he seemed to forget what they had even been talking about. Jaya, who had been listening to the exchange with an arched brow, shook her head and turned away.

  ‘Thought you were supposed to be part Sprite,’ she muttered.

  Not even that roused Bel from his stupor.

  ‘It is something special, to be sure,’ said Hiza, filling in the uncomfortable silence. ‘As long as those spiders stay where they are, of course.’

  ‘I wonder,’ said Losara, ‘what would happen to this place if the light failed.’ He recalled his dream of his own land crumbling under the onslaught of the enemy. ‘The spiders would surely not survive, for they rely on light magic to live.’

  He watched his other closely for a reaction, yet still none came. His own reaction was what Bel must be missing – appreciation of the splendour on display. For even though these were enemy lands, Losara knew the world would be poorer without them.

  ‘Perhaps the trees would live,’ Losara went on. ‘Perhaps not all would be lost if the world fell to the shadow.’

  Did he hope that was the case?

  ‘No,’ said Fazel flatly. ‘Crystal is made for light to shine through. In shadow it is nothing but rock. If the shadow triumphs, the wood will be one of the many things that fail. The trees will die along with everything else.’

  With sadness Losara accepted his words, knowing them to be true. If he ever won this war, the cost would be very great indeed.

  ‘No point to such conjecture,’ said Bel.

  ‘Why is that?’ asked Losara with genuine interest.

  ‘Because,’ Bel stared from Losara to Fazel and back, ‘the shadow is never going to triumph. Now, stop dawdling, everyone, and hurry up – I want to be through this place before nightfall.’

  •

  Jaya watched Bel stalk ahead, their footsteps out of sync. Let him go – she wasn’t going to allow him to spoil this moment for her.

  ‘Really quite extraordinary,’ came a voice beside her. Without realising it, she had fallen into step with Gellan, who was gazing off at their strange surrounds. She had grown to quite like the mage – she hadn’t been sure if she would at first, for he’d seemed quite cocky and, being cocky herself, that sometimes created friction. But somewhere along the way all cockiness seemed to have gone from him, and though she found him a bit strange, he possessed a calmness that made him easy to talk to.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Not usual of me to be sentimental, but I have to agree.’

  ‘A shame not all of us are able to appreciate it,’ said Gellan.

  A moment of defensiveness passed by quickly, for Jaya had to admit the mage was right. She was a little sorry that Bel had not, for whatever reason, been awed by this place, as everyone else was.

  ‘I expect he’s simply focused on the task ahead,’ she said. ‘It sits heavily on his shoulders.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ said Gellan. ‘But it would be good to know he goes forth to conquer for a reason . . . not just because he’s been told to.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ This time a note of defence did show in her voice. Her ow
n issues with Bel – the resentment that came with his pig-headed belief that she needed protecting, and that she had to follow his lead when she was not used to following anyone – did not mean she would stand idly by while others criticised him.

  ‘Well,’ said Gellan, ‘simply that he seems to have been . . . steered, is all. Fahren brought him up to believe the shadow is the enemy, then orders from Arkus reaffirmed it and set him on this journey. It would be nice to know he did these things because he believed them, not just because that’s the way he’s been taught, if you follow?’

  Jaya was not sure what the mage was getting at, but his points were making her uncomfortable.

  ‘And what are any of us,’ she said, ‘if not the products of our upbringing, and the people around us?’

  Gellan sighed. ‘I only meant that seeing something beautiful, which you are charged to protect, should be affecting. I meant no offence – Bel is doing an excellent job.’ He paused. ‘And what about you?’

  ‘What about me?’ she said, still unsettled.

  ‘Do you help Bel because you believe in his ultimate purpose, or because you love him?’

  ‘I don’t see that there needs to be an “or”,’ said Jaya.

  ‘Quite so,’ agreed Gellan. ‘But, if you don’t mind me saying . . . I expect that sometimes Sprite blood, such as you and Bel have, can blur things.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well,’ said Gellan, ‘you were born in Kainordas, raised a Kainordan, taught to worship Arkus . . . and yet the Sprites were people of both light and shadow. I imagine your blood remembers, somewhere, that you are not truly aligned in this war.’

  Jaya frowned. It was true that she’d always been restless, as if there was no real place for her in the world – until she’d met Bel and he had become her place. That did not mean she was totally devoid of all allegiance.

  ‘It is not as if you exactly fit in,’ added the mage. ‘A thief without regard for the laws of the land – is that loyalty? Or is that a Sprite finding her own way through a world that is not exactly hers?’

  ‘I am only part Sprite,’ she said. ‘You discount the larger part of me too easily.’