‘Just like you,’ he said. ‘Not happy to take the easy option.’ He winked, then raised his voice. ‘We’re ready, Olakanzar!’
‘Very well,’ bellowed Olakanzar. ‘First time I ever took to wing with a back covered by bits of string – but there’s a first time for everything!’
He brought his wings down hard, and lurched into the air. For a moment fields swung in to the side at entirely the wrong angle …but then the dragon levelled out and began to climb. The land fell away, further and further, until they were higher than the Heights, with the Dragon’s Sorrow river ahead glinting silver along the horizon. Bel turned to beam at Jaya and she found herself grinning back. They were away, they were free, and she would be very happy never to return to this part of the world again.
‘Can you reach into my pack?’ Bel shouted above the rushing wind.
‘What do you want?’
‘Can you get me the sundart?’
It was tricky to undo the ties as they jolted about, and she was careful not to let anything spill. Reaching in, she found the magical messenger carving, and leaned forward to slip it under his arm.
‘Thanks!’ he shouted, then touched the scroll. ‘Fahren! You’re never going to believe where we are!’
She laughed and looked down upon the world going past, her heart finally thundering with joy.
Fahren put the sundart down and wandered to the edge of his quarters. It was still difficult thinking of them as his quarters, when so much memory of them was tied up with Naphur. Sometimes he still felt like an imposter and longed for his rooms at the top of the Open Tower. He fumbled with a brittleleaf roll, mind not really on the job.
So, Bel was riding towards Holdwith, and his counterpart, on the back of a vengeful dragon. Unusual and worrying, but it had the smell of fate about it, of things being delivered when they were needed most.
Meanwhile there were two enormous armies none too distant from each other. Where and when would they finally clash? Variables everywhere, yet here he remained. There was little more to be done from here, he supposed. Troops were mobilised, and those who had not already joined the army were making their way. Even Thedd had made good on his commitment. The north was emptying, its towns and cities quiet, and those who remained behind waited uneasily for news of an outcome that would signal either celebration or ultimate despair.
He lit the roll with a spurt of flame from his finger. One last thing, before he went to join the final battle.
He needed to make a deal with Battu.
Fire in the Sky
Tyrellan sat cross-legged and alone on the dusty plains. Some half a league to the north lay the fort, beneath a circle of Cloud fed by a stream high over his head. A gratifying sight indeed.
Well, not alone, he supposed.
It was the fourth day of construction, and the shadowmander’s range had grown larger than expected. If Tyrellan moved any closer to the fort, the mander would get inside and tear apart whatever lightfists were left. Instead he waited from afar, chewing on a piece of bread, watching the broken cobblestone tower. Losara was up there, having sleeping mages brought to him, and sending their legacy spells out over the plain. Very soon, they would be finished.
There were reports in the morning that a contingent of Varenkai troops had arrived about a league to the north. There they had stopped. Tyrellan was certain they did not mean to attack the fort – at least not until the main army caught up. They were here to impede, or keep watch, or something to that effect. Wise, maybe, under other circumstances, though the Throne could not have possibly guessed what it was Losara did here.
Familiar sparks went along the mander, although the increase in its size was now too slight for Tyrellan to register visually. Losara had become adept at whatever he did in the minds of the sleeping, and the legacies had come thick and fast over the past day. Hundreds of mage’s lives had gone into the making, and he wondered if Losara was going to be able to use every last one of them.
It wasn’t long before he had his answer.
Tyrellan , came Losara’s voice in his head.
Yes, lord?
We have found the limit. The last two spells have failed to reach you.
Very well. What would you have me do?
Stay where you are for now. I shall send word when we have …cleaned up. I do not want the mander destroying the fort in search of the remaining lightfists.
As you command .
Losara entered the academy hall, where the last lightfists were being kept asleep. He took form next to Roma, who did not flinch at the sudden arrival.
‘Shadowdreamer. I have just sent the next batch up to the tower.’
‘Recall them, please,’ said Losara. ‘We are done.’
Roma nodded and gestured at a mage. Losara sensed a thought travelling between them, and the subordinate headed off.
‘The rest,’ said Losara. ‘They are all here?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
There were some two hundred lightfists remaining under the watch of his mages. He was proud of his underlings – they had carried out his wishes exactly, though it had been taxing on them. Everyone had been taking shifts, but between patrolling the walls and keeping so many lightfists slumbering, rest periods had not lasted long.
The mage whom Roma had sent returned with a couple of others, between them four levitating lightfists.
‘Put them back with the rest,’ Losara said.
He moved into the centre of the hall. He could defer this command to Roma, he supposed, but a part of him felt he must take responsibility for it.
‘My mages,’ he said, and all fell silent. ‘I commend you on our success.’
A chorus sounded – not the rabble-like cheer of soldiers, but a softer, more self-assured murmur of satisfaction.
‘And now,’ said Losara – so many lives wasted – ‘Now that we no longer need the lightfists, you may snuff them out. Do not visit any unnecessary pain upon them. Proceed.’
Around the room mages raised their hands, and sent forth shadows into the lightfists. Despite Losara’s words there was plenty of convulsing. He hoped the lightfists did not feel anything in their sleep. It seemed his mages were not as skilled as he at creating a soft, gentle departure. Mercifully, it was quickly done.
‘Bury them,’ he said.
Roma nodded and set about shooting orders around the hall. Soon a macabre procession of dead lightfists was floating out of the academy, through the fort, and out of the gate onto the plains. Here, a large burial pit was already filled with tangled limbs and twisted red robes. Into it, the last were dropped. Roma then gestured at a hillock of dirt that had been excavated to make the pit, and it came cascading back in. With the hole filled, he gave a whisk of his fingers, smoothing over the earth, until no trace of the fort’s original inhabitants remained.
A more respectful burial than many will be afforded in the coming days , Losara thought, though it was little comfort. The evidence of his colossal crime, hidden beneath the dirt, was like a tumour on the world.
Out on the plains, the shadowmander stood at the edge of its circle, watching.
Tyrellan , sent Losara. You may return.
For a day and a night they rode the dragon, the land below seeming to move slowly at such a distance. Sometimes Bel would spot a landmark – a city, fort or forest remembered from the internal map he carried thanks to Fahren’s lessons – and the dragon would change course to follow his shouted instructions. Apart from those interactions there was little talk with Olakanzar, and Bel and Jaya were left to their own devices, such as they were.