‘I still say we can’t trust him,’ said Hiza darkly.
‘ Still say?’ said Jaya. ‘You haven’t said a word about it.’
‘Well, how could I?’ said Hiza, slurring slightly. ‘It’s not like he’s been out of earshot since we got him.’
‘He has to obey my commands,’ said Bel. ‘That makes him harmless enough.’
‘Bel’s right,’ said Gellan. ‘Not to mention that we will need a mage of shadow to operate the Stone, should we ever find it.’
‘Yes,’ said Hiza, ‘but what if the Shadowdreamer comes along and gives that skeleton another command …such as murdering everyone while they sleep?’
‘If the Shadowdreamer knew that Fazel was alive,’ said Gellan, ‘he would have come for him by now. Losara is not all-powerful, Hiza. He does not know everything, try as he might.’
Odd comment, thought Bel …but the ale beckoned, Jaya gave his thigh a squeeze under the table, and he wondered about it little more.
Fazel waited in the shadow of a tree as the mage drew closer.
Damn Arkus’s eyes , he silently cursed. Why couldn’t she stay away from town a little longer? Why did she have to be coming back this night?
As she approached, moving lightly through the undergrowth, he took a measure of her. It was not possible to be certain, but she didn’t seem overly strong. For a start, she had not yet sensed him, even though he stood quite close.
Probably just a simple village mage , he thought. Used to an easy life, not on the lookout for lurking monsters.
She would sense him any moment, though, he knew …and even if he let her pass, there was another in town tonight whom she could not be allowed to sense. Unfortunately, his orders were clear.
Stepping forward, he reached out with his power. She was caught wholly off guard and too late began to fling up a flimsy defence. He squeezed his fingers, compacting the flesh of her throat, crushing it instantly, snuffing her out like a candle. She fell silently to the forest floor. Fazel gestured at the earth beneath her body, rending it open to swallow her up, then closed it again, leaving no trace.
Maybe by some miracle, the mage’s loved ones would discover her body and be able to farewell her properly. Maybe they would not spend the coming days, weeks, years, searching for her, wondering if she was dead or still alive somewhere.
Fazel turned away, knowing it was a foolish hope.
Travelling Together
Fahren waited in the Throne’s private meeting chamber, a high-roofed room with marble walls covered liberally with paintings. Behind the long marble table at which he sat was a velvet throne on a raised platform. He chose not to elevate himself on that seat for this particular encounter – Syanti Saurians were a proud people, probably the most reclusive and self-governing of all the Kainordan races, and Fahren didn’t want them to think he placed himself higher than them, even physically. He was not exactly nervous about meeting High Priest P’Terra, the leader of the Syanti, but not exactly at ease about it either. Syanti were not famed for their even temper, and he’d have to be careful if he were to enlist their aid.
‘The Syanti delegation has arrived, my lord,’ announced the messenger at the entry doors. Fahren nodded.
The messenger pulled back the doors to reveal three Syanti. Like their Ryoshi cousins they had reptilian features, but they were more snake-like than lizard. These three moved forward fluidly on tails that whisked against the stone floor, their torsos rocking slightly from side to side. Each had long, thin arms with long, thin fingers, the main deviation from their serpentine appearance. Their scales were a mix of grey, green and the odd bit of gold, more so on the middle one, whom Fahren guessed to be P’Terra. The High Priest wore a ceremonial dagger strapped across his chest, and ruby-studded bands on his wrists and neck. His companions looked to be warriors – one had a scabbard that Fahren knew would contain an impossibly thin sword, almost reed-like but razor-sharp and strengthened by magic. The other had a metal-studded whip, looped and glinting, at his side. Both wore bands of iron affixed in various places, but unlike the priest’s, theirs were unadorned.
Fahren rose.
‘Greetings and welcome,’ he said.
‘Great Throne,’ said P’Terra, a forked tongue darting in and out of his mouth. ‘Thanks be to you for this summoning. These my personal guard are, T’Teksa and D’Rana.’
The two warriors dipped their heads.
‘Excellent to receive you all,’ said Fahren. ‘Will you …um …’ He suddenly realised he wasn’t sure if the Saurians liked chairs.
‘Would you like to sit?’ he said hesitantly.
P’Terra glanced at the chairs with his yellow slit eyes. ‘Not for Syanti built,’ he said.
‘Of course,’ said Fahren, moving quickly around the table so it did not stand between them. ‘My apologies.’ He chided himself for the oversight – he knew, if he’d thought about his last visit to their desert city, that Syantis liked to coil in large cushions while taking their ease. Since he’d taken on the thousand duties of being Throne this was the kind of detail that escaped him.
P’Terra gave a slight hiss, which Fahren interpreted as a chortle.
‘Mind not,’ he said. ‘Things more important.’
‘Indeed,’ said Fahren. ‘I trust you had a pleasant journey?’
‘Syanti not like desert to leave,’ said P’Terra, ‘but did not come for pleasance.’
‘Well, perhaps we should speak on the matters that bring you here. I trust you know by now that the blue-haired man has been revealed?’
P’Terra put a hand to his chest. ‘Praise to Arkus, the guiding light, for this to be delivered.’
Fahren wasn’t entirely sure that Arkus was responsible for Bel and Losara, but he decided not to muddy the waters with a discourse on the forces of fate. Syanti were devout followers of the Sun God, and if they wanted to believe that Bel had been sent by him, it would only strengthen their resolve.
‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘Then you will know that with his coming, war is also foretold. War that will end the conflict between us and the shadow.’
‘Heathens,’ agreed P’Terra. ‘To renounce Arkus bad enough is. To stand against him, seek to end him, must be punished. Arkus the one god is, giver of light, bringer of heat.’
Fahren nodded. ‘I am gathering our army at Kahlay. I do not know when battle will begin, but I am hoping we can count on the noble Syanti to aid us in this last, holy fight.’
‘Yes,’ said P’Terra. ‘For years many we have waited. Ready are my people, yearn the land to cleanse of shadow, purify with metal and blood magic, send their souls back to Assedrynn the betrayer.’
Fahren shifted his feet uncomfortably. The Syanti priests practised a particular form of light magic that often involved sacrifice, and though it produced powerful results, it was not something he strictly agreed with. Still, this was not the time to be squeamish.
‘I am glad,’ he said.
‘Already we prepare,’ continued P’Terra. ‘Will send word this day for to be coming at last, to join others at Kahlay.’
Fahren was relieved, though he supposed he needn’t have worried. History showed that the Syanti were always eager for any opportunity to beat back the shadow. Perhaps he had been concerned they would not accept him as the new figurehead of the light – but the Auriel rested on his brow, and the power play that had brought it to him would not concern the Syanti, for they cared little about Varenkai politics. It was time, he decided, to stop being so diffident about the Throneship. For better or worse it was his and not to be questioned, even by him.
‘I shall see to it you have everything you need,’ he said. ‘Will you reside here as my guests until your people arrive?’