Destiny's Rift (Broken Well Trilogy)

by Sam Bowring

  ‘Never,’ Bel said, but inside he felt sick. What hope did he have, path or no, against a shadow mage of Losara’s power? He would lose the Stone, and all hope of ever defeating his counterpart.

  •

  Losara reached out a hand towards Bel, readying his power to grasp the Stone. Now was the time, he supposed, for a rather definitive choice. He stood at destiny’s crossroads – if he took the Stone, he was almost certain he would never be able to use it himself, for no mage of the light would aid his cause. Bel and he would forever stand apart, but what of it? He was doing well on his own, he felt, as a leader, as a lover, as a man. There were the gaps, of course, but he was used to those, for they had been with him as long as he could remember. The fact that parts of him were missing had become a part of him.

  Making up his mind, he channelled power towards Bel. Bel stood waiting, hand in his pocket, where Losara knew he was clasping the Stone. Losara tried to seize it and pull it to him. Bel tensed, his face a mask of frustration and scorn.

  Nothing happened.

  Losara blinked, surprised. Doubling his output, he sent forth even more grasping force, but as he targeted the Stone it was as if his power was pouring down a hole.

  ‘You do realise the futility of what you’re attempting?’ said Fazel.

  Losara glanced at him.

  ‘This was how it happened in Whisperwood,’ the mage continued. ‘The Stone absorbed our spells, taking them into itself to combine them to a single purpose.’ He snickered. ‘It’s doing that now, consuming your power, my lord, but without a light mage adding anything to the mix, there is nothing for it to expel.’

  Losara frowned – could it be true? Did Bel possess an object that negated his magic?

  He brought up his other hand to target Bel himself, to see if he could at least make his counterpart move towards him . . . but the Stone caught up that spell as well, sucked it in, and Bel did not budge.

  •

  Bel looked between Losara and Fazel, taking in the undead mage’s words . . . and broke into a smile.

  ‘What’s this?’ he said. ‘Of course!’

  He drew the pendant out slowly, savouring the consternation on Losara’s face.

  ‘This is swallowing up your magic, isn’t it? You can’t cast spells against me, can you?’

  A wild joy flared in his heart.

  ‘I suppose,’ he said, ‘there are still things that neither of us has thought of. Something comforting in that, don’t you think?’ He laughed harshly. ‘Seems fair, doesn’t it, shadow worm? I mean, there you are zipping all over the place, going wherever you choose in the blink of an eye, murdering Thrones and being home for breakfast . . . while I have to tramp my every step slowly across the land . . . it was all seeming a little unbalanced, wasn’t it? But now,’ he held the Stone out in triumph, dangling it mockingly, ‘I have this.’

  Losara dropped his hands, at a loss.

  ‘You arrogant bastard,’ said Bel. ‘Can’t believe it, can you? Used to things going your way, eh?’ He took a step forward. ‘Want to call back your mud monsters? I will most happily disappoint them also.’

  He drew his sword and gave it a swing.

  Losara held up a hand again, but this time it was directed towards Jaya, who still slumped, dazed, on the ground.

  ‘The Stone protects only you,’ he said. ‘Give it to me or Jaya will suffer the consequences.’

  ‘Consequences?’ Bel almost shouted, startling Losara. ‘What are you talking about, you fool? Do you think I have the memory of an insect? I just saw you save her, and heard your explanation why.’

  ‘That was before . . .’ began Losara uncertainly.

  ‘Before you thought you might actually have to live with the pain of losing her? Didn’t much like my chances of success, eh? Ha! Your threats grow more meaningless with every word you speak.’

  Losara moved his hand towards Hiza, blue ribbons of energy playing through his fingers. ‘Hiza, then, we could afford to lose.’

  ‘How right you are!’ said Bel. ‘Sacrifices must be made if the light is to be victorious. I am sure Hiza would give up his life if it meant averting disaster for all his people. Wouldn’t you, Hiza?’

  He twisted around to look at his friend and found Hiza regarding him strangely. Slowly, Hiza nodded.

  ‘I would.’

  I will apologise for my callousness later, my friend, Bel thought.

  ‘Of course he would,’ he said aloud. ‘Hiza is but one man. You think I’d hand this over,’ he swung the pendant almost in Losara’s face, ‘because of one man?’

  Losara simply stared at him.

  Bel scowled. ‘No? Not going to blast him away for no reason? You are weak, Losara. Look at you, saving your enemies, befriending them for your own amusement –’

  ‘Not for amusement,’ protested Losara.

  ‘Only to lose the very thing you came for!’ Bel pointed the sword at him. ‘Look at you – you can’t do anything to me, can you? What’s to stop me . . .’ And he made a stabbing motion.

  ‘You know you cannot do that,’ said Losara quietly.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Bel. ‘But what about your hand? You look like you’ve lost a finger.’

  Losara’s eyebrows creased. ‘What of it?’

  Bel drew his sword up against himself, ran the tips of his fingers along the blade. He admired the sparkle at the very top, where the sun was catching.

  ‘I didn’t feel anything when you lost it,’ he said.

  And he drove the sword through Losara’s shoulder.

  •

  Losara stumbled backwards with a cry, caught completely off guard. The sword slid free, leaving behind a rent in his pale flesh. Shadows curled from severed veins.

  ‘Look at you,’ snarled Bel. ‘To think I ever doubted which of us was the lesser, when you are not even real enough to bleed.’

  Losara stared at him, clutching his throbbing shoulder. He was astounded that Bel would do something so petty and spiteful, without purpose other than to inflict pain for the sake of it. He slumped, letting his wounded side fall to shadow, then drew it back to himself. Outwardly he appeared healed, though the wound still ached, tender inside.

  ‘Ha,’ said Bel. ‘Not even substantial enough to injure. Arkus, you can’t even wear a human wound gracefully for more than a moment.’

  ‘You have an interesting way of looking at things,’ winced Losara.

  He decided there was nothing to gain from remaining. It was time to depart.

  ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Keep the Stone, for the moment. You will never be able to use it.’

  ‘We have Battu,’ said Bel.

  ‘You have one piece of an enormous puzzle,’ said Losara. ‘So forgive me if I offer no congratulations just yet. Fazel?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Fazel.

  ‘Head at once to join the army.’

  ‘I don’t suppose,’ Bel said to the undead mage, ‘there’s any point me ordering you to stay?’

  Fazel shook his head. ‘I wish you could. In my mind, where I am still able to be myself, I will pray for your victory. Yet what hope of that, when the light’s fate rests on the shoulders of such dolts? You were fooled so long, so easily – a man’s entire demeanour changes, yet you suspect nothing. You are so focused on your aims, Blade Bel, you would not see a cart coming to run you down from the side.’

  Bel looked stung by Fazel’s bitter tone, from which Losara took small comfort. It could even be that in the undead mage’s words was some good advice.

  ‘I said at once, Fazel.’

  Fazel bowed his head, then turned and sped away, green cloak flaring from his shoulders.

  ‘You should free him,’ said Bel, despite the mage’s insults. ‘You would, had you any compassion.’

  ‘Compassion,’ said Losara, raising an eyebrow. ‘A strange quality for one who enjoys his killing so much to advocate. As for now, I’ll take my leave. It has been good to travel with you all, though likely you’ll not say the same of me. Stay s
afe.’ He eyed Bel. ‘And you especially. Farewell, for now.’

  And he fell to darkness.

  Olakanzar

  Olakanzar

  Olakanzar

  There was a stream not far from the village, and Jaya felt incredible relief at collapsing in it fully clothed. It was shallow but fresh, and there was nothing she wanted more than to be rid of the slime and mud that slicked her skin. Perhaps memory of the gaping mouth descending on her would disappear when all traces of its contact were washed away. Perhaps.

  She was shaken by the experience, deeply shaken, though she tried not to let it show. Somehow she did not seem to be able to laugh it off in her usual fashion. Bel, who was washing himself nearby, watched her with concern, and she tried to force a smile.

  ‘Here,’ he said, wading closer, ‘let me help you.’

  He set about washing her arms with a cloth, wiping away the smears. He was tender in his touch, but his eyes held guilt.

  ‘I’m sorry I left you,’ he said. ‘Try as I might, once I am dancing with death . . . well, he leads.’

  She felt an echo of what she might have said, once, about how it was not his job to protect her. She did not have the heart to say it, though, or maybe she did not really even believe it right now.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, touching his face. ‘Thank you for saving me.’

  He sighed. ‘I never should have brought you with me.’

  ‘No, I’m glad that you did,’ she said. Though deep down she meant it, it was hard to inject conviction into her words. In her mind’s eye she saw again the dripping fangs descending, and she shuddered. If she was going to die young, she had always expected it to be in a noose, or by blade, something human . . . not to have her head bitten off by a monster. Never in all her years of hairy moments and near misses, fights and falls, had she been so afraid.

  Downstream Jaya saw Hiza and M’Meska also bathing. The Saurian lounged across the stream as if it were the most comfortable of beds, her tail swishing lazily. Hiza sat in silence, staring at bubbles as he scrubbed his arms. He had been scared too, Jaya supposed, though perhaps like her, he tried not to let it show. She knew he had something to prove, fighting alongside this childhood friend of his who had become the stuff of legend – he wanted to show that he too could play a part. Perhaps the after-shocks of his fear would remain hidden, repressed, and become the kind of thing that made him jolt awake in bed, sweating, years from now.

  She hoped they would live that long.

  Meanwhile Bel, who always seemed capable of shrugging off danger, appeared much more disturbed by the revelation that Gellan had actually been Losara.

  ‘I should have guessed,’ he said glumly. ‘There were moments, looking back, when I should have suspected . . . well, something.’

  ‘How could you have known?’ she replied.

  How could any of them? Bel was not the only one who had spent long whiles conversing with Losara. She too had shared many things with him, in idleness; they now seemed like conversations that would have been worth holding on to. And yet Losara was a part of Bel, so was it any wonder they had gotten along? It was very confusing.

  ‘He tricked us all, Bel,’ she said, cupping his cheek in her wet hand. ‘We all thought he was our friend. We all told him things about ourselves, as people do on long journeys together.’

  ‘Mmm.’ He sounded unconvinced.

  ‘You liked him,’ continued Jaya. ‘I liked him. Maybe that’s what’s worse. But it was all a lie.’

  ‘Yes. Lies. Betrayal. Hallmarks of the shadow. But we still won! We got the Stone. And,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘some unexpected benefits from that, indeed.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, though she wasn’t quite sure what they had won. A tiny piece of the puzzle, came her thought, echoing Losara’s words. And a long way to go yet.

  ‘But he spared us,’ she added, almost to herself. ‘He spared me.’

  A shadow passed across the sun.

  •

  Bel felt wind on the back of his neck, making the droplets of water there cold. The ground shook as something heavy landed upstream, and Hiza gasped. Bel turned slowly, almost knowing what it was he would see. There, some thirty paces away, straddling the stream, was the other dragon.

  ‘If it’s not one thing . . .’ he muttered to himself.

  The dragon was as large as his mother, but much more terrifying – after all, he was alive. Covered with green scales, his long neck wobbled shakily as he considered them first with one eye, then the other – which was huge. Bloodshot veins crisscrossed it like a complex system of roots, and it bulged horribly, fit to burst from its socket. The creature blinked, a scaly lid sliding down over the malformed eye more slowly than over the other, stretching but not fully covering it before retreating. Maybe that was where I am destined to strike, thought Bel, through the eye into the brain, bypassing the creature’s armoured skin.

  Hiza and M’Meska, who were closer to the beast, began to back away. The dragon inhaled, wide nostrils flaring, discernibly drawing the air around them towards him.

  ‘Behind me,’ said Bel. He rose to his feet; this was made more difficult by Jaya clinging to him, but he managed to bring her up also.

  ‘We should make for the trees,’ whispered Hiza. The woods, into which the stream ran, were only a few paces away.

  The dragon spoke, his voice cracked and strangely high-pitched, as if it were an effort to strangle words out of his throat.

  ‘These are the ones,’ he said. ‘Yes, yes, left their smell in the cave. What do they say, these? What do they say, how do they say, what what do they say, say?’ He took an ungainly step forward, as if he lacked a sense of balance.

  ‘Back up,’ muttered Bel. ‘Everyone back up.’

  ‘What about you?’ whispered Jaya.

  ‘Go,’ he said, and felt behind him to give her a push towards the trees. She grabbed at him but Hiza took her arm, dragging her away as Bel drew his sword.

  ‘Tiny pig-sticker,’ hissed the dragon, eyeballing the blade. ‘Good for cutting heads off reeds, good for slicing bread . . . good for swishing ’way the flies, good to make things red. Good, good.’ He chortled, a discordant sound full of many mismatched notes. ‘Good for killing Olakanzar dead? We shall see, we shall see. Shall we see?’

  Bel felt the familiar tingling of his blood, but had no sense yet of what move he should make. Something was there, though – he could feel it.

  ‘We did not kill your mother!’ he called.

  It was the wrong thing to say. The dragon’s eyes shone with fury, and it rocked on its heels and roared. As it came forward it opened its mouth, and molten flame spewed forth. Bel stumbled away from the heat and heard Jaya cry out from the trees. He fell into the stream and rolled to look for his companions. They were waiting just inside the wood, watching in terror. There were the steps to be taken. For a moment he lay confused, for they did not lead towards the dragon, but away. Then, bitterly, he understood – he could not hope to win this fight. The path was telling him to flee.

  The dragon cantered forward, gathering momentum, and opened his mouth for a second burst. In a second Bel was on his feet, sloshing through the stream and heading for the trees.

  ‘Fall back!’ he shouted, and his companions drew away into the woods. He barrelled in after them as unworldly heat dogged his heels, then he broke through branches and sprawled headlong into the undergrowth. Trees behind him blazed alight. Then M’Meska was hauling him to his feet. ‘Further,’ he wheezed.

  There came a great rending as the dragon smashed down trunks, thrusting his head in after them. Bel forced himself to push on, winded though he was, and together they fled further into the wood. Fire erupted once more behind them, and instantly the entire edge of the wood was burning.

  Some fifty paces from the wood’s edge Bel had to stop, for he had no breath. The others circled him, watching the flashing flames and angry eyes that stared back. Bel could feel his face reddening as he struggled to suck in air.<
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  ‘Dragon!’ called Hiza, his voice quavering. ‘Do you hear me?’

  ‘Olakanzar!’ raged the dragon, shaking the trees and making leaves fall.

  ‘Olakanzar, then!’ shouted back Hiza. ‘It was not us who tore apart your mother! How could we, small that we are, when your mother was so mighty?’

  The head wobbled back and forth, the enormous baleful eye searching for them amongst the growth.

  ‘They lie?’ the dragon said. ‘Do they lie? Do they lie like the grass lies on the ground, like the meaning of words lies within sound?’

  ‘It like black one said,’ muttered M’Meska. ‘Dragon insane is.’

  ‘Yes,’ wheezed Bel. ‘I doubt there is any reasoning with him.’

  ‘We do not lie!’ called Hiza hopelessly. ‘There were others, Mireforms, monsters from Fenvarrow – they killed your mother! Smell them out and you will have your revenge!’

  ‘Smell?’ hissed the dragon. ‘Smell nothing but little Varenkai in my cave, her cave, our cave, no longer, no more.’ He gave an odd whimper, and his claw went to his malformed eye as if to scratch it, but halted. He blinked rapidly, still not managing to cover it fully with his lid. ‘Itchy, itchy,’ he whined. ‘The itchy knows you lie, lie, LIE!’

  Flames burst through the trees again, too distant to do them any harm. Smoke was beginning to waft through the forest, however, black and choking. Great claws uprooted tree trunks as the dragon forced his bulk further into the wood. His progress was slow but steady.

  ‘We need to move,’ said Jaya, holding a sleeve to her mouth.

  ‘Before he sets the whole forest aflame,’ agreed Hiza.

  ‘Maybe he do that anyway,’ said M’Meska.

  They went deeper into the wood. The sounds of the dragon fell away behind them, although there now came the distinct crackling of an inferno.

  ‘Which way?’ said Hiza.

  A whooshing made them all jump. ‘Down!’ shouted Bel. The canopy was instantly dripping with fire as the treetops above them turned to torches, and they heard wing beats as the dragon flew overhead.