Soul's Reckoning (Broken Well Trilogy) (22 page)

Overhead she saw a dark blot in the sky, and squinted.

Lalenda.

Avoiding the mindless chaos of battle was one thing, but if Fahren, or Bel, or anyone, thought she was going to idle here while others raced to decide the fate of her man, they had lost their collective mind.

She spun and saw the healer who had just chastised her stooping over a horse’s hoof and waggling her fingers. Jaya ran and leaped onto the beast’s back.

‘Wait!’ said the startled woman. ‘I’ve only just mended her! She should not be ridden right away!’

Jaya ignored her, kicking the horse into action.

In the distance, storm clouds were beginning to gather over Whisperwood.

•

With three potent mages each speeding their own horse, it took little time to reach the wood. Fahren dismounted before the tall grey trees, and stared in with some trepidation. There was something there, something on the edge of his senses that he could not identify, which could mean only one thing: Old Magic. He reached a hand between the trunks and met resistance, a grey shimmer appearing at his fingertips.

‘There’s a barrier of some kind,’ he said.

The world darkened as a shadow fell across them.

‘Look,’ said Battu, and Fahren followed his gaze skywards.

Clouds were forming thick and fast, though each floated distinctly separate. In the spaces between them the sun still shone, even more brightly than usual perhaps, great golden rays stabbing down at the wood.

‘They’ve been at it all day up there,’ said Battu. ‘You have noticed, no doubt? Assedrynn has not been able to get a foothold. So why .
 
.
 
.’ He averted his eyes as the cloud they’d been standing under floated onwards, replaced by glare.

‘Why now?’ finished Fahren. ‘Why here?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Elessa, ‘they are cooperating.’

Fahren and Battu turned to her slowly.

‘Well,’ she continued, ‘each of them wants what’s in the wood. If there’s something standing in their way, perhaps it’s better to join forces now and fight over it themselves later.’

‘My enemy’s enemy .
 
.
 
.’ said Battu. ‘You may be right.’

Disturbed by the idea of the gods banding together, Fahren turned back to the wood. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘Old Magic may be strong, but so are we. We must,’ he cast a bolt, punching the barrier and making it wobble greyly, ‘break our way in.’

•

Corlas had drained his power mightily while out of the wood, but now he felt it slowly replenishing. He stepped onto the coiled root at the edge of his clearing, as the warriors who’d been with him joined the other assembled Sprites below. They were waiting for their lord to address them, though he remained uncertain of what to say. He raised the Stone to show them, its chain clutched tightly in his fist, but hardly heard the triumphant whoops that sounded at the sight of it. Were his sons, his son, inside? He, they, had to be .
 
.
 
. but what now, what next?

Corlas.

My Lady! I have the Stone, but .
 
.
 
. I do not know .
 
.
 
.

Do not fear for your boy’s life.

He is inside the Stone?

Yes.

Why does he not emerge?

There must be a reckoning of some kind. Perhaps not all is easy, when fitting dissident parts together.

How long will it take?

Corlas, I have not all the answers. Listen, for I must away swiftly. Arkus and Assedrynn are enraged, and have joined forces to attack our defences. I don’t know how long I can maintain the barriers that prevent their folk from entering. I must see to them, and you must send warriors to bolster my efforts! In the meantime, protect the Stone. I shall return once your son emerges, to awaken his Sprite blood as I did yours.

‘Warriors!’ called Corlas. ‘Our enemies seek to invade our realm! Scatter to our southern borders and stop them!’

Resolute anger greeted his words, and Sprites ran into the trees. Corlas stepped off the root to land heavily in the clearing, where those remaining parted for him. There were many who had not the training or skill to fight, but he knew that before the day was out he might need the aid of all of them.

‘The rest of you,’ he said, ‘protect the clearing!’

He went to his hut – still the same old shelter it had always been, except the flower garden had grown tall enough to spill over the roof. He put the Stone down on the bed, then stared at it for a long moment.

It lay right about where his boy had been born while Mirrow lay dying.

•

The shade of a cloud found Lalenda, and she was thankful for the relief it offered. The treetops of Whisperwood stretched out beneath as far as she could see, and she had no clue where to start looking. All she knew was that Losara had been born in a hut in a clearing, but that had been almost twenty years ago now. There was no telling if the clearing still existed, or if that was where Corlas would take him.

She dropped lower, intending to take a look underneath the canopy. It was a mean tangle, however, branches unnaturally twisted around each other, twigs poking out at all kinds of angles, leaves clustering to obscure her view. She flew on, looking for a better place. A few minutes later, frustrated, she set down on a branch.

‘Can you gnash your way through this?’ she asked.

‘Not be looking very tasty,’ said Grimra. Nonetheless his fangs appeared and he went at the trees. Woodchips started flying, branches cracking and shards raining down .
 
.
 
. yet even as he bored his hole, before Lalenda’s eyes other branches snaked in, intertwining to seal it up again.

‘Wait, Grimra,’ she said. As the ghost made a series of spitting noises, the wood closed up once more until it showed no sign of having been attacked. Overhead a cloud moved on, and the sun that replaced it was blistering.

‘Let’s find another way in,’ she said, and rose to head south. As she came to the edge of the wood, she heard a neighing beneath, and instantly set down. Stealing forward over the blockade of vegetation, she peeped over to see who it was.

Jaya.

Lalenda both could not, and somehow very much could, believe it. Of
course
Jaya would be here, just as of course Lalenda had come. She felt the tips of her claws poke from her fingertips, heard Grimra mutter, ‘Lady light creature. Grimra to bite her in the heart?’

She hesitated, unsure why. There was so much uncertainty now – Jaya had not killed her when she could have, and had stopped that soldier shooting at Losara.

Grimra apparently suffered no such ambivalence, for he swooped down immediately.

•

Jaya stared warily into the wood. Dark patches moved between the trees as the clouds that cast them floated on, stealing over branches and ferns, sending strange shadows shifting. Interspersed were patches of brilliant sunshine, cut into multiple beams by their passage through the canopy, brightly lighting up spots of foliage. The whole effect was entirely otherworldly.

Summoning her courage, she stepped inside. As she crossed the brink there was a
whoosh
and a great howl behind her, and she shrieked and leaped away. Landing with her heart pounding, she tried to make sense of what she saw. Across the threshold of the wood a grey barrier shimmered translucently, against which a disembodied flurry of long flashing teeth and claws threw itself. Beyond it a Mire Pixie set down on the grass – Lalenda.

Jaya rose cautiously, her hand going to her sword, but despite whatever it was hurling itself repeatedly at the wood, it rebounded every time.

‘Desist, Grimra,’ said Lalenda, and trotted up to the trees to peer in. She held out her hand cautiously and met with the same grey resistance. Jaya raised her sword in warning and the pixie backed away a little. Jaya approached, wary not to cross the barrier, only holding out a hand to wave it through and back where these others had failed.

‘What trick is this?’ said Lalenda.

Jaya found herself angry with the Mire Pixie. ‘Damn you, girl,’ she said. ‘Have you nothing to do with your time but attack me?’

‘I did not attack you.’

‘What was that thing, then?’

‘That be Grimra,’ said Lalenda. The air about her swirled, lifting her skirt and stirring her hair. ‘You could say he’s my guardian. I did not bring him the last time we met, or else you wouldn’t be standing there. But I did not set him on you just now.’

Jaya laughed suddenly, having worked it out. ‘I’m a Sprite,’ she said. ‘That’s why I can enter the wood and you can’t! This,’ she looked around, ‘is my ancestral home.’

Lalenda’s face fell as she took in the news. For a moment she looked terribly lost. ‘I can’t get in above either,’ she said miserably.

As she had done at the stream, Jaya found herself strangely empathising with the pixie. Of all the beings in the world, this was the only other who knew what it was like to love a blue-haired man. And, like Jaya, her man was trapped inside some Arkus-forsaken rock, stolen for reasons she did not comprehend. Had he emerged yet? No way to tell. Who would he be when he did?

‘Listen, Lalenda,’ she said, ‘can we not agree that we want the same thing?’

Lalenda stared at her with suspicious cobalt eyes.

‘We both,’ continued Jaya, ‘want to get to wherever they have taken .
 
.
 
. him.’

‘Yes.’

‘And, without knowing what in four shades of shit he is going to be like when he comes out of that thing,
we
,’ she moved a finger between them, ‘can do nothing more than go and see. There’s no point killing each other, is there? We do that and maybe Bel emerges hating you, or Losara hating me, or .
 
.
 
. something else. Who knows?’

Lalenda bit her lip. ‘What are you suggesting?’

‘This guardian of yours – can he be taken off my scent?’

‘Yes.’

Jaya held out her hand. ‘Well, come on, then.’

Lalenda took a hesitant step towards her. ‘You think you can usher me through the barrier?’

Jaya shrugged. ‘Not sure. Worth a try, don’t you think?’

Lalenda’s brow creased uncertainly, but she reached out to take Jaya’s hand – the skin of her fingers rough around the slits that hid away her claws. Jaya pulled and Lalenda stumbled forward, through the barrier. A few steps later she came to a halt, and patted herself down as if worried she wouldn’t be intact. Finding that she was, she looked around at the wood, and gave a disbelieving little chuckle. As her eyes met Jaya’s, however, the mirth faded.

‘But why?’ she said.

Jaya quirked a smile. ‘Look around. This wood is too spooky to be sneaking around in without company.’

‘I think it’s quite nice,’ said Lalenda.

‘Well,
you
would, I suppose. But we stand a better chance together, don’t you agree?’

A curl of white frothed at her knee and there was a low growl.

‘Hush, Grimra,’ said Lalenda. ‘There is to be no eating this woman. For now.’

‘Too kind,’ said Jaya, then cocked her head. Someone was coming.

‘What is it?’ said Lalenda, but Jaya held a finger to her lips. She glanced around, spotted a large cluster of ferns at the base of a tree, and gestured towards them. Lalenda frowned without comprehension, but Jaya led the way, going down on her knees and crawling into the plants. A couple of moments later, the pixie followed.

‘What are we doing in here?’ she whispered.

‘Hiding,’ breathed Jaya, and pointed out from the fronds.

A Sprite woman appeared, treading quietly through the undergrowth. She was fluid and yet exact in her movements, even her long hair swishing to a standstill when she did. She was lithe and slender, not much younger than Jaya herself, and Jaya wondered if there was reason to fear her. The ferns rustled as a chilling breeze crept through them and stole onwards towards the woman. For a moment she paused, as if listening to something. Jaya wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard voices.

‘Others in the spirit plane here,’ muttered Grimra.

The Sprite’s gaze came to rest on the ferns. She raised a hand and violet bands began to twine through her fingers.

‘Who’s there?’ she called. ‘Show yourselves.’

Jaya stiffened, unsure what to do. Was this woman an enemy? She had her answer quickly, for without saying anything else, the woman shot her hand forth and a vortex rushed towards them. Jaya seized Lalenda by the wrist and propelled them out of the ferns to land in a tangle. Grimra roared and there was a flash of white as he surged towards the Sprite. A howling wind rose out of nowhere and slammed against him, and together they whirled away, engaged in some ephemeral battle.

As the ferns crackled with strange magic that seemed to do them no harm, Lalenda stared up at Jaya. ‘Thank you,’ she wheezed.

‘Save your breath,’ said Jaya. ‘We must flee!’

She rose to her feet, hauling Lalenda up with her, but they had no chance to do anything more. Vines burst from the forest floor beneath them, tightly winding up their legs, rooting them in place. Jaya tried to draw her sword, but sprouts leaped from her waist to encircle her wrist and draw it in, pinning it to her side.

As they grunted and struggled, the Sprite woman walked around in front of them. ‘Well, well,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Look what strange manner of beasts my hunting brings today.’

Vyasinth whirled up to the treetops, beyond which the sky was a tapestry of shadow and light. In the belly of clouds lightning flashed, while sunbeams so hot they were almost white wilted the leaves of her branches.

Have you no shame
? she raged.
This place is mine, given as sanctuary for my people!

You have interfered in events that do not concern you
, came Arkus’s reply.
Return what you have stolen.

Hypocrisy still comes to you easily, I see
, she said.
It was the both of you who stole the child from
me!

There is no ownership
, said Assedrynn.
Only what we are strong enough to keep. And you have done well, Lady Vyasinth, to keep your people alive all this time since the breaking. Why place them in peril now? What use is this resistance?

You imperious marauders
, said Vyasinth.
Meant to watch over this world, we were, and instead you tore it apart. No wonder fate has delivered me
a champion!

Arkus laughed, booming harshly from the heavens, a gratingly ugly sound.
Your champion? You really think your little briar patch can stand against our might? I have the endless sun to draw on.

And I the seas
, said Assedrynn,
and the underneath of every rock.

Your power is so finite
, said Arkus,
I almost pity you.

Now it was Vyasinth’s turn to laugh.
Pity?
she said.
Maybe I have naught but a few trees on my side, yet I do not have to outlast you long. Soon the blue-haired man will return, then all that’s left is to wake his blood, and he will be mine, cold forever to your plans.

She felt their ire build at her words, and the pressure they exerted on her barriers increased. She channelled more of the wood’s power to maintain them, yet feared there would be none left for her people to fight with. They would not need to fight, however, if she could but keep the minions of Arkus and Assedrynn at bay.

Leaving her age-old adversaries to continue battering her defences, she went down into the clearing, into Corlas’s hut. Still the Stone lay pulsing, and still nothing had emerged.

•

‘Try again,’ said Tyrellan, and Fazel obliged. It did not matter to him that he made no headway. As long as he stood here plying this Old Magic barrier with spell upon useless spell, the shadow’s will was not being served. Once more he sent tendrils pushing against it, trying to worm their way in. The barrier wobbled as usual .
 
.
 
. and then, just for a second, the tip of a shadow seemed to curl through. Fazel paused uncertainly, then regretted having done so, for Tyrellan picked up on it immediately.

‘What is it?’

‘Made some progress,’ muttered Fazel.

‘Again,’ said Tyrellan fiercely.

Fazel obeyed, and this time the barrier did not seem as strong; it seemed as if it was failing somehow. He searched for weak points and found a place that gave a little. Shaping his power to a sharp point, he forced it through to the other side, then expanded it. Wedging the hole wider, it was soon big enough for them to step through.

‘Try there,’ he said dully, pointing.

Tyrellan reached a hand into the wood unimpeded. Giving a grunt of approval he stepped through bodily, and Fazel followed. Once they were both inside, Fazel released his spell, but the barrier did not close behind them.

Somebody’s magic wasn’t holding.

‘Well,’ said Fazel. ‘We’re back.’

‘No time to reminisce,’ snarled Tyrellan, heading into the trees.

•

‘It’s breaking,’ said Elessa.

Fahren, who was sitting with his chin on his fist trying to think of another solution, looked up. His pose reminded her of herself, when she had once sat at his feet.

‘Pardon?’ he said.

‘The ward,’ she said. ‘It’s giving way.’ To demonstrate, she sent a beam of light through the pinhole she’d created. Fahren rose, vitality returning to his movements.

‘All together!’ he said.

Elessa took aim again at the pinhole, joined by the other two – and inexplicably, moments after seeming strong enough to hold back a thousand mages, it tore open.

‘Quickly, get through!’ said Fahren, and through they went, coming to stand beyond the barrier inside the wood.

‘Wonder what’s happened?’ said Battu, glancing at the sky.

He didn’t have long to wonder, for almost straightaway up in the trees, three Sprites swung into view. ‘Attack!’ shouted one, and they released their holds, casting violet vortexes even as they fell to the forest floor. Old Magic slammed against Elessa’s ward, but not as strongly as she would have expected, unfortunately. Why had she not been obliterated completely? Earlier the Sprites had been strong enough to hold back an entire battle’s worth of lightfists and shadow mages!

By her side Fahren moved so that his own ward overlapped hers, while Battu stood all by himself. Vines wound out of the ground at his feet and he sent power at them. They flopped away limply, but he was already sweating profusely, as further spells shook his defence.

They are not as powerful as before
, she sent Fahren.

Interesting
, said Fahren. He issued forth a glowing orb that dodged erratically through the air and planted itself right on target, bludgeoning a Sprite’s ward and interrupting her casting.

Now is not the time for ‘interesting’
, said Battu.
They are still more than our match.

Elessa
, said Fahren,
we may not survive this.

Good.

You are the hardiest of us all!
He was angry again, and it made her even angrier that he dared to be.
You must leave us here. Do your best to find the Stone and retrieve it for our people! We will join you if we can.

Elessa felt the command take hold and knew she must obey. Once upon a time she had looked up to this man, had sat at his feet with her chin on her fist while he read to her from books, or showed her how to conjure creatures from the air. She had been hand-picked by him, and had been both excited and nervous to take her place as a student with promise, though quickly comfortable in his kindly presence. How delighted she had been to surprise him by casting her first dodge spell, an infamously difficult trick that many great mages would never master – she had been only fourteen at the time.

No longer did she identify with that old self in the slightest. Now Fahren was nothing to her but a slave master.

Fourteen? That had only been six years or so before her death. She felt so much older than she was.

Try the clearing first
, sent Fahren.
It’s my best guess for where they might have taken him.

Directing power to her heels, she turned and fled. Last time she had been in the wood she had dared not use magic, for fear of being sensed by the enemy. Now she poured it forth with abandon, hoping to be sensed. She also realised that, somewhere along the line, she had failed to maintain the illusion that kept colour in her cheeks, light in her eyes, the wound in her side from showing.

No consequence
, she thought, bitter that she had even bothered with it in the first place.
Let all see me as I am
.

Behind her, Fahren cried out in pain.

Who would release her if he died?

•

Come on
, thought Corlas, watching the thrumming Stone.
Where are you, boy?

Something was not right with the wood – outside the hut, sunbeams and shadows roved through the clearing in equal measure, and he had no doubt he and the Sprites were under some kind of attack. His power, only partly recovered, seemed to be returning in a mere trickle. He had sensed streams of Old Magic nearby, diverted by Vyasinth, but now even those were beginning to thin. When what he had stored up was gone, it would be gone, and there was no telling when he could replenish again.

He rolled his massive shoulders. ‘Well,’ he rumbled, reaching above the fireplace to heft his axe from the wall, ‘old habits .
 
.
 
. never did think of myself as much of a mage type anyhow.’

And so Corlas found himself standing in his hut, guarding his boy with an axe, for a second time.

‘The world will have its fancies, I suppose,’ he muttered.

There was a knock at the door.

‘Who is it?’

A voice that seemed dryly amused with itself answered. ‘Representatives of the Open Halls.’

He went to the open window, and grunted in surprise. Elessa Lanclara stood there, her skin a pallid shade of grey, her eyes dry and unblinking, her white dress stained with blood. Vyasinth had told him she’d come back from the dead, but he had not expected to come face to face with her. Behind her in the clearing lay the bodies of Sprites – dead, stunned, or sleeping? It was hard to tell.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘I tell a fib. It’s only me, this time.’

‘And what was it I said?’ he asked, his bushy brows clumping in thought. ‘Ah, yes – warm yourself.’

A hand jumped from his axe to shoot forth a vortex, but she disappeared. A moment later the door blasted inwards off its hinges and she strode into the hut.

‘When are you going to learn,’ she said, ‘that the future of your son affects the whole world, not just your little home in the forest?’

‘The world,’ said Corlas, ‘can kiss my axe.’

He flung it at her, charging it with magic as it left his fingertips. It caught slightly in her hastily erected ward, ricocheting off course, and cut a chunk from her shoulder, exposing bone beneath.

Elessa gave a sickly smile, and warily Corlas raised a ward of his own – but it was not strong, he thought desperately, feeling his pool of power drying up. Elessa held up the hand attached to her damaged shoulder, gave the fingers an experimental waggle – and Corlas slammed against the wall, falling unconscious to the floor.

She went to the bed and scooped up the Stone.

•

Charla considered the strange women she had caught. Having lived her whole life in the wood, she had little experience of races other than her own. She had seen some just now, of course, upon entering the battle to fetch the Stone – but that had been swift and hectic, too much to take in at once.

The smaller of the two, the dark one with wings, had to be a Mire Pixie. As for the other, as Charla drew closer, she saw that the woman had pointy ears and multicoloured eyes. She was not a Varenkai, as Charla had first thought, but a Sprite as well. Did that make her a friend, or foe?

‘I do not recognise you from the wood,’ said Charla. ‘And I know all who dwell within.’

‘I am not from your wood,’ replied the woman, still straining against the vines that bound her.

Charla frowned. ‘But this is the only place where Sprites can live.’

‘I’m only part Sprite.’

‘Let us go!’ demanded the little one, and claws flicked from her fingertips. She managed to slice through some of the vines, but Charla gave a wave and they wound around her more firmly. Charla paused, feeling odd – the small amount of magic used to maintain the living bonds was taking more effort than it usually did. She tried not to let her misgivings show.

‘Let you go?’ she said, arching an eyebrow. ‘Nay, I think not. You are of the folk who sought to deny us our champion, he who will return the Sprites to prominence, and restore Old Magic to the world!’

The tall woman grimaced. ‘That’s why you’ve taken him? You are a
third
contender for Bel’s auspices?’

‘Third?’ said Charla haughtily. ‘We are the first. It is
your
people who interfered, your people who –’

‘Never mind any of that,’ snapped the woman. ‘I really could not care less about it right now.’

‘Then why have you invaded our wood?’

‘Because before they were put back in the Stone, Bel and Losara were
our
men.’

Charla was taken aback. Corlas, of course, had spoken at length about Bel’s life, and so she had heard of the half-caste Sprite with whom he shared it.

‘You’re Jaya?’ she said.

‘Yes.’

‘And I’m Lalenda,’ said the pixie. ‘The Shadowdreamer’s woman.’

‘And you are here .
 
.
 
.’

‘Because we want to know what’s happened to our men,’ said Jaya. ‘Wouldn’t you?’

Charla bit her lip – this was a bit more complicated than she had expected. She knew what it was like to be bonded to another Sprite, of course, and could not imagine being without Corlas. Also, there was the other, stranger thing.

They were almost family.

Once or twice Corlas had ventured the notion that Charla was the closest thing Bel had to a mother. Charla had stamped him down immediately – while her soul may have been composed partly of another’s, it was only
partly
, and she fiercely upheld that she was her own person. It was not her womb from which the baby had sprung, not her lovemaking that had put it there. Bel and Losara were the same age as her – she could scarcely imagine dandling them on her knee, or exposing her breast to feed them! That was for her own children, which she did intend to have one day. However, when she was away from Corlas, when he did not require slapping for his offensive ideas, she had thought about the situation more carefully. In a way she had to admit that she was connected to the blue-haired man – not in quite the way that Corlas had suggested, but in a way that was not entirely dissimilar either. And even if she’d had absolutely no hand in his creation, that didn’t change the fact that he was her love’s son, and these women were his son’s loves. For a Sprite, to whom kinship was an important thing indeed, that made them .
 
.
 
. well, something.

‘I am Charla,’ she told them. ‘Bonded to the Lord of the Wood, Corlas.’