by Sam Bowring
Fazel sat next to him, arranging his cloak over his black legs. Vaguely Gellan wondered why he bothered to cover himself – it wasn’t as if he’d feel the cold, if there had even been any. Perhaps he’d fallen into the habit of hiding his looks, or felt ashamed of what he had become.
He decided to voice his concerns – if anyone had answers, it would be Fazel.
‘I was wondering what might happen if the Shadowdreamer became aware of your existence.’
‘Ah,’ said Fazel. ‘I have been wondering that myself.’
‘Do you think Bel’s orders would hold?’
Fazel sighed. ‘I doubt it. While Bel may have some connection to Skygrip through Losara, there is no doubting that Losara is the source. All my willingness to serve the light will amount to nothing if he finds me, I imagine.’
‘Mm,’ said Gellan. ‘Quite a worry. It is not as if Bel’s movements are of no interest to the Shadowdreamer. There’s no telling when his attention may be drawn to us.’
Fazel nodded. ‘You are right, of course. Travelling with me comes with great risk. As in fact does keeping me alive at all.’
Gellan knew what the mage was suggesting. ‘You desire to cease?’ he asked.
‘Would you not?’ said Fazel. ‘I have suffered well beyond my time in this prison of bones. I cannot eat or sleep, or enjoy any earthly pleasure. All I have are memories – memories of terrible deeds dealt to my people by my own hands. Not even this current reprieve affords me peace of mind, for any day I could be forced to turn again to the darkness.’ He chuckled humourlessly. ‘You tell me if that sounds like any kind of retirement.’
‘It does not,’ said Gellan. ‘You have my sympathies, old mage. And if you wish to put the case to Bel that we are safer without you, I will be your advocate.’
‘The sooner the better.’
‘Is there a way?’ said Gellan. ‘A sure way, after which you will not rise unwillingly from the ashes?’
‘I have lived a long time with the enchantment that animates me,’ said Fazel. ‘I fancy I could break it myself, were I given such a directive.’
‘I see.’ Gellan frowned. ‘There is one thing that gives me doubt as to the wisdom of losing you.’
‘And that is?’ said Fazel, sounding very tired.
‘The Stone of Evenings Mild requires mages of both light and shadow to work.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Fazel dully.
‘And Bel seeks to make it work – something I would have judged impossible a week ago. Where could we hope to find a shadow mage willing to help us? And yet here you are. If we do away with you, what chance of success do we have?’
‘I don’t know what chance of success you have anyway,’ said Fazel. ‘As we’ve just discussed, if it came to conflicting orders between Bel and Losara, I am sure I’d be compelled to follow Losara. Do you really think he’s going to stand there slack-jawed as I aid in the casting of magic against him? Or will he, perhaps, say “Stop that”?’
Gellan nodded gravely. ‘You are right, and we will put it all to Bel tomorrow. Now,’ he rose smoothly to his feet, ‘if you’ll excuse me, I must attend to a certain pressure.’
‘Even that I miss,’ he heard Fazel mutter as he went into the trees.
It was a serene place, this part of the world. It had been several days since they’d found their way down from the mountains, and now they travelled eastwards along the foothills. There was a path, of sorts – overgrown and sometimes invisible, sometimes marked only by the absence of trees. Moisture seemed omnipresent as streams gushed and sent up spray, dew dripped from ferns, and a spot of rain was never far away. It was pleasant enough, however, humid and still, and they did not see much evidence of settlement. Tomorrow, or the next day, they might come across a village, or spy a woodsman’s hut nestled somewhere off the path . . . but then again, maybe not.
A short distance from the camp, Gellan found some likely looking bushes and untied his trousers. As he relieved himself, he considered the dilemma with Fazel. The undead mage couldn’t stay, surely . . . having him with them was like walking around with a sword pointed at their backs. Yet how in Arkus’s name were they supposed to work the Stone without him?
Then he sensed something that brought his mind snapping back to his current surrounds. Had he felt . . . ? And then he was sure.
Somewhere in the night, something of the shadow lurked.
Instinctively he put up a defensive ward around him, and for a moment felt ridiculously exposed as he shoved his well-lit manhood back into his trousers. Off in the darkness the thing moved, as if it sensed him sensing it. There, in the lee of a towering oak, it was hiding . . . but what was it? Shadow magic obscured his own magical sight, but from the gap in his perceptions he could make out its outline. Something small . . . and making itself smaller? What manner of creature could do that?
Then it was coursing towards him through the trees, and he flung up his hands in readiness, his light growing brighter as he magnified his defence . . . but the shadow thing, a speck now, cut right through and flew towards him.
•
Bel sat bolt upright on his bedroll, sword already in hand.
‘Mmf?’ came a sleepy objection from Jaya at his side.
‘Did you hear that?’
He was certain that somewhere, off in the night, someone had just cried out. There was a rustle nearby as M’Meska clambered to her feet, drawing her bow.
‘I hears,’ she said.
Over by the fire, Fazel was staring into the dark.
‘Fazel,’ said Bel, ‘is something amiss? Where’s Gellan?’
‘He . . . went off to relieve himself,’ said Fazel. ‘I . . .’ He trailed off, as if listening to something no one else could hear.
‘Fazel,’ said Bel impatiently, ‘what has happened?’
Fazel did not reply. Bel scowled and turned away. Damn mages.
Jaya was awake now, and Hiza too, grim-faced enough to indicate that he had expected trouble all along.
‘Come on,’ said Bel, and strode past the fire into the trees.
He tried to remember the cry, half-heard in sleep: only the last note had crossed over into waking. There had been alarm in it, that was certain.
‘Gellan!’ he called, and quickly the others took up the cry. M’Meska went bounding away into the brush, not at all silently. ‘Stay close,’ Bel told Jaya, whose eyes scanned the night, her sword at the ready. Hiza had brought a brand from the fire to light their way. It was a sensible thing to do. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Shadows danced away from the flame, scattering in strange shapes through the trees.
‘Fazel?’ said Bel over his shoulder.
‘I’m with you.’
‘Can you sense anything of what just happened?’
The mage remained oddly quiet, and just as Bel was about to demand an answer, a group of bushes before him quivered.
‘Gellan?’ said Bel. ‘Show yourself!’
From out of the bushes Gellan staggered, twisting free of their thorny clutches. He looked dishevelled, as if he had fallen. A moment later M’Meska landed by his side and, ‘Found him,’ she informed them proudly.
‘What happened?’ asked Hiza. ‘Have we cause for concern?’
Gellan blinked, as if seeing him for the first time. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Hiza.’
‘Yes?’ said Hiza.
‘I am sorry,’ said Gellan, ‘to have woken you all. Everything is all right. I took a bit of a tumble in the dark, is all.’ He glanced past them at Fazel, and for a moment the two of them were silently intense.
‘Are you two communicating?’ Bel demanded. ‘Speak aloud, damn you!’
‘Forgiveness please,’ said Gellan, shaking his head. ‘I am overtired, perhaps. I should have concentrated on where I was putting my feet.’ He paused for a moment, seeming to collect his thoughts. ‘Let us return to the camp. We have another long day in front of us.’
There was something strange about his manner, and Bel could not help but feel he
wasn’t telling them everything. Still, that was the way of mages, was it not? He was well used to Fahren and his mysterious airs, it was no surprise to find that Gellan was cut from the same cloth.
‘All right then,’ he growled. ‘Everyone back to camp – we should still be able to salvage some rest from this night. And Gellan?’
‘Yes?’
‘Watch where you’re going.’
•
It always took a while for the morning light to arrive, with the mountains towering between them and sunrise. In the dimness of the day’s beginning, Bel walked alongside M’Meska, listening to her talk about her homeland in the Furoara Sands. Someday, thought Bel, he would like to try riding a dune claw himself.
‘Rabbit,’ said M’Meska and suddenly leaped away. He did not begrudge her sudden departure, for it was the Saurian and her arrows that kept them well fed.
Ahead Jaya walked with Hiza, chatting easily. He was glad that those two got along, and smiled as she giggled at something and punched Hiza’s arm. Hiza gave a look of mock affront and rubbed the ‘bruise’. The interaction reminded Bel of the way he and Hiza had been until recently. Although everything was perfectly amicable between them, they were no longer the simple, easy friends of days gone by. In fact, ever since finding out who Bel really was, Hiza had treated him almost like a different person, as if Bel himself had changed and not just the world’s view of him.
At least Jaya was in good humour. As she laughed at something Hiza said out of earshot, he found himself chuckling along with her.
‘Must be nice,’ came Gellan’s voice, ‘to share the road with your lady.’ The mage had caught him smiling to himself, and he found he didn’t mind.
‘It is,’ he said. ‘And you, do you have someone also?’
‘Oh,’ for a moment Gellan looked uncertain, ‘. . . yes. Back home. But I would not risk bringing her on such a dangerous excursion.’
Bel pondered whether there was a subtle slight intended in the mage’s words.
‘Well,’ he responded gruffly, ‘I’m afraid I don’t have much say in the matter. I’d like to see anyone try telling Jaya what she can and can’t do.’
‘I meant no offence,’ clarified Gellan. ‘I simply meant that mine is . . . well, different from yours. More fragile, I suppose, though she’d no doubt protest otherwise.’
‘I see.’
‘She is very beautiful, though, your Jaya. You must love her deeply.’
‘I do,’ said Bel. He wondered why Gellan was questioning him about this, but then again, why not . . . they had plenty of time to kill on this journey, and had already exhausted a number of topics.
‘Certainly exotic,’ continued Gellan. ‘Has a touch of Sprite about her, if I’m not mistaken. But then again so do you. Made for each other, you could say.’
‘You could,’ said Bel, remembering his father’s words about the soul kiss of the Sprites. Where was his father anyway? He shook his head. Later.
Jaya glanced around as if she knew they were talking about her, and stuck her tongue out at Bel.
‘You could indeed.’
Gellan fell into thoughtful reflection, then glanced behind at Fazel bringing up the rear.
‘Come on Fazel, stop dawdling,’ he called, and instantly the mage quickened his step.
•
Later that day the path grew firmer, and they began to pass dwellings amongst the trees. Coming around a thick grove, they found themselves at the top of a hill looking down upon cleared land, with smoking chimneys in the distance. A wooden sign by the roadside, chipped and faded, read ‘Talforn’.
‘Well,’ said Bel, ‘perhaps we’ll sleep in beds tonight.’
‘After a few mugs of ale,’ said Hiza with a wink.
‘Ale?’ said M’Meska. ‘Weak as cat water.’
‘If they have an inn out here in the middle of nowhere,’ added Jaya gloomily. ‘Personally I’ll be happy if they’ve invented chairs.’
‘Don’t trample on my dreams,’ groaned Hiza.
‘Will you join us, Fazel?’ said Bel. ‘Have you some illusion you can cast to disguise yourself?’
‘I don’t think that wise,’ said Gellan. ‘If there are any mages about, they will sense his presence . . . and that may cause the villagers unease.’
Fazel gave a stiff nod. ‘I will circle wide, and meet you on the other side tomorrow.’
‘Very well,’ said Bel. ‘Now, let us go and see if we can discover that cat . . . I mean ale.’
Down the path they went onto flatter land. In fields hats bobbed up and down as their owners tended to crops, though they remained firmly up as the strange procession appeared on the otherwise quiet road.
Talforn didn’t seem to have a clear beginning or end – at a point the buildings simply began to stand closer together. The villagers looked mainly to be farmers, strong and weatherbeaten. The stares Bel received did not quite hold the amazement he had attracted in other places; they contained a more frank and appraising curiosity. He wondered if these fringe dwellers had heard that the blue-haired man had made himself known . . . or even knew who he was.
‘Ho, strangers,’ called a burly, bronzed fellow who had been digging in his yard. ‘How do you fare?’
From out of the house behind him appeared a buxom woman cradling a toddler.
‘Well enough,’ answered Bel. ‘Maybe a bug or two caught between our teeth, but nothing we can’t swallow. Is there a Citizen Prime here?’
‘No Prime,’ said the man. ‘Though if the village needed a voice, it might be mine.’ He rested on his shovel. ‘I’m Barnus. And, if you don’t mind me sayin’, you don’t look like the kind of folk we normally get through here.’ He frowned at Bel’s hair. ‘That the fashion in the cities these days?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Your hair. Dyed blue as the sky. A strange look, some would think . . . but each to their own, I s’pose.’
‘You not know child of power legend?’ M’Meska asked incredulously.
‘Well, of course!’ said the man. ‘We’re not totally grown wild. But . . . well . . .’ He stared hard at Bel. ‘You don’t mean . . . ? No, surely not.’
‘I’m afraid so,’ said Jaya. ‘Annoying though it is, this is the blue-haired man.’
‘Well, I never!’ exclaimed the woman, speaking for the first time. ‘Imagine that, here in Talforn!’
‘I don’t have to imagine it, woman,’ said Barnus. ‘He’s standin’ right there. Well,’ he went on, a little more carefully now, ‘is there anything we can be doin’ for you?’
‘Is there an inn?’
‘’Course there is,’ said the man, somewhat offended. ‘I’ll take you there myself.’
‘Before you do,’ said Gellan, ‘can you tell me if there are any mages here?’
Barnus nodded briskly. ‘We got Miss Felda, though I ain’t seen her for a couple of days now. She often goes off into the woods lookin’ for herbs – one of those types, all potions and whatnot.’
‘I see,’ said Gellan, and his eyes took on a distant look.
‘What are you doing?’ said Bel.
‘Just warning Fazel,’ replied Gellan quietly, ‘to be on the lookout. Don’t want him getting caught unawares, now, do we?’
•
‘And then,’ Hiza said, ‘it began to look as if Bel and I had gotten ourselves into a rather sticky situation.’
Sitting at a table in the small, quiet inn, the group nonetheless made the most of a night indoors. Jugs of ale didn’t survive long, while Bel and Hiza gave in to the time-honoured pastime of drinkers everywhere: recounting shared memories. Hiza had just told the story of how, when he and Bel had been boys, they’d poured honey into Corlas’s bottle of leather polish.
‘Not for you,’ put in Bel tipsily. ‘You fled like a rabbit with wolves on his trail. Or tail. Trail.’
‘Both,’ suggested M’Meska.
‘Can you blame me?’ laughed Hiza. ‘When Corlas realised what it was he’d just rubbed onto h
is armour, his face flamed up redder than a beetroot.’
‘Aye,’ said Bel, ‘and my buttocks were the same colour not long after!’
It was good to see Hiza less serious around him – maybe his friend was finally remembering that Bel was the same person he’d always been. Of the others, only Gellan was not laughing at the relived antics. Instead the mage wore a quizzical expression.
‘What is it, Gellan?’ said Jaya, then drained the last of her mug. ‘Has the immense wit of my fellow and his comrade passed you by?’
Gellan gave a slight chortle, but it sounded rather forced. ‘It just seems a very strange thing to do,’ he said. ‘You put honey in Corlas’s bottle of polish?’
‘Um, yes,’ said Hiza, his hand hovering as he waited for Jaya to finish pouring out the latest jug. ‘That was in fact the point of the whole story.’
‘I see,’ said Gellan. ‘And it was your intention that he unknowingly ruin his armour?’
‘Not ruin,’ said Bel. ‘Gellan, have you quaffed too much ale? Your mind doesn’t seem to be whirring too quickly.’
Gellan glanced at the full mug in front of him, then pulled it towards him. ‘I’m sure that’s why,’ he said, taking a sip. ‘I guess I just don’t understand why irritating someone is funny.’
‘It’s called mischief,’ said Jaya, rolling her eyes.
‘Speaking of your father,’ said Gellan to Bel, ‘has there been any news on that count?’
Bel frowned, his merry mood turning rapidly grimmer. Why did Gellan have to go and ask him about that now? It was difficult for him to think about his father when the task he’d been born for lay ahead, eclipsing all else. Also, it was troubling that Corlas had not come forward after word had gone out about his pardon, and Bel could not help but feel somewhat abandoned. Unless something bad had happened to him, but that was a dark thought indeed and always quickly shooed away. Corlas was more than able to watch out for himself, Bel knew that. Perhaps he was simply hiding somewhere, unaware that he had been forgiven?
‘No further news,’ he said, trying not to let his annoyance sound in his voice. ‘Fahren’s soldiers continue to search for him.’