Destiny's Rift (Broken Well Trilogy) (31 page)

Her heartbeat quickened at his words. Was she really what he feared to lose most?

‘Even to make a strange lizard grow bigger,’ he added. ‘As odd a request as that is.’

‘I don’t need any help to make your strange lizard grow bigger,’ she giggled, and he chuckled as she playfully bit his neck.

‘Savage little,’ he said, squeezing her. ‘But it isn’t just that.’

‘What is it, then?’

‘In the dreams,’ he said, ‘I let them see me as they imagine me.’

‘Oh?’

‘It is . . . well . . . I don’t know. They see me as a menace, in various guises, but always twisted and hateful. Sometimes much older, or wilder, or more violent. Sometimes with claws, or fangs, or towering and wrapped in muscle. Some imagine me as Battu. I guess maybe they’ve seen a picture of him somewhere, and think all Shadowdreamers are the same.’

‘Then they are fools,’ she spat. ‘Always they have hated us, conjured images in their minds that have nothing to do with the way things are.’ She sat up then and stared into his eyes. ‘If they saw you as I do, they would realise how beautiful you are.’

‘I doubt they’d think me beautiful.’

‘Fools then, like I said.’

‘Besides, it’s you who is the beautiful one.’

‘They probably wouldn’t think that either.’

He smiled at her. ‘Fools then, as you said.’

‘But do not let their prejudice affect you, lord,’ she replied. ‘Why should it? You do not suffer from the vanity of your
other.
’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Perhaps that, then, is the reaction I’m missing.’

‘No need to miss it,’ she said, deliberately twisting his words. ‘You look better without it. There’s nothing like vanity to make a man ugly. He who stares into the mirror reveals the truth behind needing one.’

‘I’ve seen you look in the mirror,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But I’m a girl.’

Grimra came under the door, chortling to himself.

‘Well, who be this?’ said Lalenda. ‘A self-satisfied ghost?’

‘Oho, yes, mightily!’ said Grimra. ‘Flutterbug would not believe it – someone be leaving a heap of dead mages piled up in search of a stomach to enter!’

‘Well,’ said Lalenda, ‘let us hope there’s someone who’ll oblige them.’

‘Too late!’ hooted Grimra. ‘They have been obliged – much, much obliged!’

‘Goodness,’ said Losara. ‘I know I shouldn’t laugh.’

‘Don’t try,’ said Lalenda, and it was good to see the mirth on his face.

•

Long after Lalenda dozed off, Losara lay awake. He had not been entirely honest with her about how troubled he felt by his actions. Yes, it was disturbing to learn how these Kainordans pictured him, but he could hardly take umbrage when it was their very lives he stole. He tried to console himself with the knowledge that they went without pain, at least physically, but there was little solace in that.

Before Holdwith he had killed twice – the Throne Naphur, and Gellan.
Can I really claim that?
he wondered.
I may not have been the dealer, but I am the cause of other deaths. Trolls tricked down from mountainsides, a village mage in the woods, peasants, and a dragon slain by Mireforms . . .

Today was different, however, from any killing before. Today he had killed many, one after the other, methodically. He did it because he knew he must, because he had seen what would happen if he did not fight – if any single one of his victims was able to wipe out his people, they would do it in a heartbeat. It was not guilt he felt, he decided: he was too justified for that. Was it compassion, then, that trait Bel had accused him of lacking? Or something else?

Bel. What would he feel in Losara’s place? There was a blankness that came over Losara at the moment of each death, when he knew Bel would have experienced something. Having now travelled with his
other
, he did not have much trouble guessing what.

As he had steeled himself to the task, invading mind after mind, he’d noticed himself becoming faster and more systematic. No need to draw the process out, he told himself, that was all – but a thought nagged at the back of his mind . . . that as he continued to kill out of necessity, he was necessarily getting used to it.

•

Later that night, the Cloud grew. The Shadowdreamer was in Holdwith with people of Fenvarrow, and so it came, a swirling stream of vapour. Once over the fort it filled out into a blurry-edged circle, connected to the main Cloud by a black and grey passage, marking that which now belonged to the shadow.

The Itchy

The Itchy

The Itchy

Progress was pain. What the tapestry of cuts lacked in depth, it made up for in plenitude. It seemed to Bel that no movement was possible without tweaking at least three of them open. Beside him walked Jaya, patched up as well as he could manage, and Hiza limping, having managed to suffer a high number of crystal leaves and spider bites on one leg.

‘Is it the same leg you hurt chasing after that rat-haired thief in Kadass?’ Bel asked.

‘Yes,’ said Hiza with a grim smile. ‘It seems the world really has it in for this particular limb. Perhaps I should just lop it off and be done with it.’

M’Meska was less injured overall than the rest of them, but where she was the wounds were worse, for leaves had worked in between her scales. She was still clawing out little pieces of glass, giving small hisses as they came loose.

‘I don’t like this,’ said Jaya, her eyes on the skies above.

‘What part?’ said Bel.

‘There’s only one path through Crystalweb,’ she said. ‘Easy enough to spy from above, I’ll warrant.’

No one wanted to return to the wood’s interior, from which they would need to flee if the dragon found them. With the storm over, the leaves were falling less frequently, but spiders still ticked and tacked along their webs.

Damn paths
, thought Bel.
Be nice if one of them ever turned out to be useful.

While his own personal path had consistently failed to show him a way to kill Olakanzar, it had at least proven that it could lead him to escape. If they were attacked again, maybe he could draw the dragon off, away from the others, keeping them safe as he fled.

‘Maybe big lizard not like Crystalweb,’ said M’Meska. ‘Maybe got glass in scales like do I, not want to come back into here?’

‘Let us hope so,’ said Hiza, though his tone was not exactly sanguine.

Despite his anxiety, Bel did not push them to move any more quickly. Sleepless nights, constant fear and the latest round of damage made for a bone-tired and bedraggled party. Caught between the wood and the sky above, there did not seem to be anywhere that was really safe. He did not know what to hope for once they made it through, for they had not really improved their situation beyond taking a small hop in the right direction.

Crystalweb wasn’t large, and even at their slow pace they were soon within sight of the way out. The afternoon sun shone merrily on exposed fields, bereft of cover for another league or so. As they drew closer, they felt a sinking in their stomachs as they saw a large green body move across the exit and eyes swing to stare in. It seemed the dragon did indeed baulk at the idea of re-entering Crystalweb. But apparently that did not stop him from knowing the way out of it.

‘Ho, ho!’ called Olakanzar. ‘Look what approaches, slow and steady like winter creeping. Little sparrows don’t dare to leave the path? Don’t dare trickle away through the trees, off into the slicey air – already had too much to bear? Only one sun in the sky, only one fat itchy eye, only one path through Crystalweb, why, why? Because that’s what is, and what is, is what? No escape! And if they leave another way, I’ll fly so high that the wood seems but a coin beneath, see all the ways out, see all the ways in, no way to snatch this coin
from me
!’ He roared, and a jet of liquid fire issued towards them, blackening the white trees.

‘He certainly does like the sound of his own madness,’ said Jaya glumly.

‘Arkus, what must we do to rid ourselves of this peril?’ asked Hiza.

Bel almost ignored his rising blood – what would the message be? To run away again? He was tired of it.

‘Cuts have I,’ continued Olakanzar, almost sounding good-humoured. ‘Plenty from so short a time, so just imagine what’s been done to soft little sparrows lost? Hold your chin up to the wind and shave, just a trim, or a whole head gone? Barber you to death, that wind, if you turn and flee, and Olakanzar can fly free, avenged, revenged . . . mended by the departure of those who have him so offended.’ He gave a great and unexpected racking sob, like an inversion of his high-pitched giggles. ‘Sleep I need! Why must you run, make me hunt you, taunt you, hate you! Just come here and hear your consequence! Surely you must know it just, you must, that your bones combust!’

Another jet of flame, though they were standing almost fifty paces from where it fizzled out.

Something in the dragon’s misery filtered through Bel’s mind.

‘He hasn’t slept,’ he muttered. ‘He doesn’t dare, for then we might evade him.’

How long could a dragon stay awake? He had no idea, but surely it wasn’t indefinitely. A strange excitement rose, and he caught a glimmer of potential steps along the path . . . not away this time, but
towards
the dragon. He tried to relax into the flow, but it wasn’t strong, and his hand did not instinctively reach for his sword. It was something else this time, something milder. His lips tingled.

Words.

‘We cannot fight him,’ murmured Bel, his eyes distant. ‘But perhaps there is another way.’

‘What are you talking about?’ said Jaya.

‘Stay here,’ said Bel, moving forward. He felt a pressure building in his throat, opened his mouth.

‘Olakanzar!’ he called, and the dragon’s roving eyes snapped to his. ‘You must stop this foolishness!’

‘Foolish?’ said the dragon. ‘Foolish you call me? Foolish you say, foolish?’

‘Aye!’ said Bel. ‘Foolish! Foolish as the moth who flies close to the candle, as the cook who burns himself on a handle!’

‘I don’t know that it’s wise,’ said Hiza quietly, ‘to make him any angrier.’

Bel ignored him.

‘Is it
foolish
,’ said the dragon, ‘to kill those who killed my only mother?’

‘Listen to me, you great lumbering lout!’ shouted Bel. ‘We
did not kill your mother
. And while you have chased us little sparrows, the real murderers have long since fled!’

‘I smelled you,’ said Olakanzar. ‘In the cave, and in the wood. I smell your trail, leads to your grave.’

‘Because we
were
in the cave,’ said Bel. ‘We came for this!’

He reached into his pocket and held up the Stone. The dragon’s malformed eye bulged at the sight of it.

‘But we did not strike out your mother’s life,’ continued Bel. ‘That was done before we arrived. Those who killed her were Mireforms, creatures of mud and earth who leave no smell or trail, save for a trail of laughter as they think on what a fool they made you! They have retreated, out of your reach, back to their master, who laughs at you also, and laughs at us for having such a fool as you in pursuit.’

The dragon’s eyes went from Bel to the Stone.

‘That’s mine,’ he said, strangely moderate. ‘The burned man gave it to me. I gave it to my mother, and now she’s gone, so it’s mine again.’

Bel had come almost to where the trees were blackened by the dragon’s fire.

‘The burned man,’ he said, ‘is who brought us to your cave. This,’ he waved the Stone, ‘was mine first, given to me by my father when I was naught but a babe, then taken by Fazel. Not stolen now from you, but returned to me.’ He put it slowly back into his pocket, out of view. ‘Do you remember being a baby, Olakanzar?’

The dragon’s head tilted, staring at something that wasn’t there.

‘Chasing the sparrows in the trees,’ prompted Bel.

‘Yes . . . flitting between the trees, oh so spry and nimble, before the blurry and the pain, before the world turned glitchy . . . before the . . . before the . . .’

‘Before the itchy,’ said Bel.

Olakanzar gave a clumsy nod, his head wobbling on his long neck.

‘And do you know how you got the itchy?’

‘Mother said we were tricked,’ said Olakanzar. His huge red eye blinked, and shed a single hot tear. Where it hit the ground, it steamed.

‘Aye,’ said Bel. ‘Tricked by the burned man himself, back when he was not yet burned. He was accompanied by another called Tyrellan, First Slave to the Shadowdreamer. They came to your cave, and lured your mother away so they could give you the itchy.’

Patterns flickered subtly in front of him, less exact than usual. He had the direction, but not the details. In a way, he was pleased by that. Some feats he could achieve himself, without aid from ethereal forces.

He moved within range of the dragon’s flame, ignoring the worried whispers of his friends behind.

‘The Shadowdreamer gave you the itchy,’ he continued, ‘and it was also he who sent his minions to kill your mother. Cowards they were, to kill her while she slept. Look at this sword.’

He drew his sword, holding it in front of him, and Olakanzar eyed it warily. Bel forced his feet onwards, until he was standing right in front of the dragon. He knelt, placing the sword on the ground before the great beast.

‘Look how small it is,’ he said. ‘Like a needle to one like you, a pinprick, a pig-sticker. Do you think that such a blade could cause the hurt done to your mother? Could still her heart before she had a chance to scorch us? Could cleave such gashes in her, could spill such volumes of her blood?’

Olakanzar craned forward, sniffing the sword. ‘No smell of her,’ he said.

Bel spread his hands wide. ‘You have been done grave injustices, twice in your life, by Shadowdreamers. Poor, poor Olakanzar!’

‘You say . . .’ The dragon’s bulbous eye began to weep freely, tears hissing to vapour before hitting the ground. ‘You say
poor
Olakanzar?’

‘I do. No one deserves the harm that’s been done to you.’

‘Yes,’ said Olakanzar. ‘But who deserves what? Who decides?’

‘Perhaps
you
could decide that the burned man, Tyrellan
and
the Shadowdreamer deserve
not
to get away with what they inflicted?’ Bel knew that he was muddying up his Shadowdreamers but didn’t think it was something the dragon would notice.

Olakanzar seemed to consider his words. Tiny flames curled around his teeth.

‘If you allow us to take the Stone,’ said Bel, ‘if you choose to be unlike those who have stolen so much from you . . . then we will take it, and use it against the Shadowdreamer.’

‘Care not for diamond rings or gold,’ said Olakanzar. ‘Care not for stones as well, all told. Gift it was, to the mother, who kept me long past due, when past the point to leave I grew. Lament, oh lament, how can I find the ones upon whose heads to chew? The Shadowdreamer lies in the dark, hidden away, like the notes of a song, like a right inside a wrong, like the life housed in meat, like water in sleet.’

‘No,’ said Bel. ‘He is no longer cloistered in his homeland. He marches forth, and the burned man is with him’ –
or will be
, he added to himself, aware that he was taking liberties – ‘and Tyrellan.’

‘Where?’ Olakanzar growled. ‘Where shall I find these, them, three, the all of them? Where?’

Bel felt a connection ripple strongly then, running between him and Olakanzar, direct and forceful and triumphant.

‘If you take me,’ he said, ‘I can show you.’

•

‘What the blazes are they talking about?’ said Jaya.

For some time she had not been able to hear what Bel and the dragon were saying. She was worried by him being there, but was trying not to show it. She knew she should accept that an extraordinary man would do extraordinary things, such as suddenly deciding to meander off to chat to a dragon who wanted him dead . . . but it had taken all her self-control not to cry out in dismay as he’d stepped within reach of the flames, let alone directly in front of the dreadful beast. Even though he was apparently getting through to the creature somehow, that did not change the fact that Olakanzar was mad – so what would stop him unexpectedly lashing out, despite any progress Bel was making?

‘Easy now,’ said Hiza tiredly. ‘There’s nothing we can do . . . I think . . . for now. Let us just sit down and try to mend a little faster.’

Jaya could not sit, however, despite her weariness and the aching of the cuts.
Damn this man
, she thought.
Why should I care? If he dies then I will be free again.

Free to be heartbroken
, came an answering thought.
Free to never love this deeply again.

‘Look,’ said M’Meska.

Bel bent to pick up his sword, and slid it into its scabbard. He turned to walk back towards them, and she made herself wait as he closed the gap, though she could see that he was grinning.

‘Well,’ he said as he arrived, looking very pleased with himself.

‘For Arkus’s sake, spit it out, man,’ she said. ‘What has happened?’

‘It seems,’ he said, ‘that I have organised us a lift. All the way to Holdwith!’

‘What?’

‘On the dragon?’ said Hiza, alarmed.

‘Do not worry, Hiza,’ said Bel, laughing easily. ‘He only wanted to take me, but I convinced him he could manage another. So,’ he nodded at Hiza and M’Meska, ‘I’m afraid we may have to part ways for a time, for my lady and I must away. I hope you two don’t mind being stranded in the wilderness, but at least you will no longer be in danger. You can make for a town, heal up, then join the army when you can.’

Jaya felt a thrill shoot through her, but also an undercurrent of fear. Yet this would surely be a tale to tell, and Bel wasn’t the only one allowed a little vanity.

‘Big lizard agree to this?’ rasped M’Meska. ‘How?’

‘He just needed a little sympathy,’ said Bel. ‘And a certain redirection of his murderous tendencies. He now wants to kill the First Slave, and the burned man – the causes of his malformed eye. I, for one, am perfectly happy for him to do either.’

‘Impressed,’ said M’Meska simply.

‘Yes,’ said Bel. ‘Sometimes I impress even myself.’ He turned to Jaya. ‘Well, my sweet, ready for the ride of your life?’

She nodded, trying to let go of her concerns and become caught up in his mood.

What is wrong with you, girl?
she thought.
One little tussle with a Mireform and you’re to be reduced to a quaking craven for all time? Let go of that. Forget it. Remember who you are, bold until the end. Ride the dragon!