So they needed someone else, and for the life of him Fahren had not been able to imagine who. Yet here was Battu offering himself, apparently uncaring of his old loyalties. Was it too good to be true …or was it prophecy trying to live? Did Battu hold the key to their success?
He tried not to let his desire to believe Battu cloud his judgement. The former dark lord had long been an enemy of Kainordas, most recently responsible for the death of Baygis. Could such travesty be forgiven, or even tolerated?
‘You would have us believe,’ Varta said, ‘that you would help us to attack he who may be the prophesied saviour of your people?’
‘High Mage,’ said Battu, ‘I am not a wise man, nor even-tempered. If you would save your time, do not go searching for reason. One thing I do not lack when it comes to this matter, however, is focus.’
He spoke like a man in control, completely at odds with his appearance. His black robe was mud-stained and torn, freckled with bits of leaf and twig. His pale arms were scratched and dirty, his face etched with an expression of anger. Only his voice remained calm, the tone even.
‘I’m sorry, my Throne, but …’
‘Ssh!’ Fahren snapped at the persistent messenger. ‘Leave us.’
‘Gerent Brahl would like to see you as soon as possible,’ the messenger said quickly, then fled. Irritated, Fahren supposed the man could now claim he’d delivered his message. What did Brahl want?
His gaze returned to Battu. How would it even be possible to come to this point? he wondered. One of his gifts, he liked to think, was empathy, so he tried to imagine what it would be like to have his own underlings turn against him, cast him down, throw him out …to know that Arkus did not care for all his years of service, and that if he stayed in Kainordas, he would be hunted by his own people. Did he see himself siding with the enemy? It was difficult, because he knew his own people would never commit such heinous betrayal, but …if they did …well, certainly he would be angry! But to knock on the door of Skygrip Castle? To say, ‘Here I am, come to offer my services’?
‘My understanding,’ Battu said to Varta, ‘is that you are skilled at the reading of minds, true? Of course it is natural for one such as I to have a few defences in place, but what about this …what about I allow you in, unfettered. Normally any mage would baulk at such a breaching, but I’ve little I care to hide right now if it gets in the way of my revenge.’ He grinned. ‘I want you to know that I do not spin lies, that I have no hidden agenda.’
Fahren was impressed, but not necessarily convinced, by the offer. Battu must know that had they wished it, several mages working together could eventually retrieve anything they wanted from his mind. On the other hand, he offered freely to place himself in about the most vulnerable position it was possible for a mage to be in. And on the third hand , he thought, entering an enemy’s mind is not without danger itself.
‘Do not forget where you are,’ he told Battu. ‘Should you try anything to harm Varta, you will not talk your way out of the consequences.’
‘Of course,’ said Battu. Swishing his robe around his feet, he lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the floor. ‘I open my mind willingly.’
Fahren nodded at Varta to proceed. She turned to the cage and concentrated on Battu. Her eyes went blank as she probed forth, cautiously at first. From a distance Fahren observed the mental connection grow between the two mages, on the lookout for any trick. For a full minute Varta delved, though Fahren knew that to her and Battu it would seem much longer. She shivered at one stage, but Fahren did not sense any attack – more likely there were simply things in Battu’s mind to which she did not enjoy being privy. Then the contact between them faded, she blinked, and stood staring at the caged man.
‘You see?’ he said.
Varta moved over to Fahren, who raised a questioning eyebrow at her.
‘He speaks the truth,’ she said quietly. ‘His mind is centred on this one thing, to the exclusion of all others, even of what he understands as commonsense. He knows he will be punished in the afterlife, yet he does not care – his rage is too great to be resisted. He wants Losara to pay for stealing his throne, he wants the Dark Gods to pay for …’ She frowned. ‘It is complicated. Apparently they never allowed him to take full flight as Shadowdreamer, instead restricting him in various ways. He feels they tricked him into raising the man who would supplant him.’
‘I see,’ said Fahren. ‘Still, no guarantees. Even if he currently thinks himself willing to betray his own people, that doesn’t mean he can’t change his mind. What we believe today we may not believe tomorrow, as he has indeed proved by being here.’
‘He is …directed in a way I deem unshakeable,’ said Varta. ‘Singularly obsessed, I would put it, like a shark on the hunt.’
‘Yet he does not know what we intend. He thinks we seek to destroy Losara …not to absorb him into Bel.’
‘A process for which we may very well need him.’
‘Indeed, but will he see that as defeating his enemy, or granting him new life in a different form?’ Sometimes Fahren couldn’t be sure himself.
‘Losara will be gone and the Dark Gods thwarted. Perhaps that will be enough?’
‘Perhaps,’ said Fahren.
The messenger slipped back into the room, looking miserable. ‘I apologise, my Throne, but the gerent has sent me back – he is very insistent that you join him.’
Fahren crossed his arms and drummed an elbow with his fingers.
‘I’m coming,’ he said. Truth be told, he could use some time to ponder. In the meantime, if he did want Battu on his side, perhaps a small gesture of faith would not be misplaced.
‘I must think on your offer,’ he told Battu. ‘In the meantime, you will not go wanting. Varta, make sure the lord Battu is brought a bed, water and food.’
‘Thank you, Throne,’ said Battu, through teeth he seemed to be trying unsuccessfully to unclench.
‘I will return,’ said Fahren, and followed the messenger out of the room.
Tyrellan stood on a simple stage before the gathered crowd – young men and women mostly, and a few pixies. It wasn’t a large village, whatever this place was – somewhere on the road to Fort Logale – but it all would count in the end.
‘The glory of the shadow,’ he said to them, ‘has long been castrated by the lights in the north. Arkus was intolerant of our people even before the breaking. Where Assedrynn was accepting of who we were, and our way of life, Arkus sought to control us, to shape us, to change us. And now that the world stands divided, he seeks to finish us. He wants nothing more than to stamp us out, to see our homes fall to ruin, our people excised from the world. Will you stand for this?’
‘No!’ cried the rabble as one. Tyrellan nodded, pleased with their enthusiasm.
‘We have tried, in the past, to free ourselves of this menace,’ he continued. ‘We have failed. But this time, my comrades, this time we have the blue-haired man on our side.’
Cheers. Good.
‘The Shadowdreamer Losara is blessed by the shadow, blessed by the gods, a champion of the dark. His power is without comparison, his conviction unwavering, and he desires his people to finally be free. Will you not join his cause?’
More cheers. Mob mentality, easy enough to channel while the mob existed.
‘I feel sorry,’ he went on, ‘for those too cowardly to march with lord Losara. These ones do not care if our land is lost, and might as well stick their friends and family with light-cursed swords themselves. Ours will not be their victory, for they have disavowed themselves of us. But we – we who march – will know grandeur. We will be the ones responsible for the dawning of a new era. Many of us will perish, but perish gladly, with honour – and what is one life, when in victory we live on forever? And if you are still unwilling to risk that sacrifice, I ask you this: would you rather die once only to be reborn from the Great Well again into a land of peace and prosperity, or would you hold onto your last few precious moments in this lifetime at the price of oblivion for all eternity? For that is what awaits us all if Arkus is able to crack our Great Well!’