Destiny's Rift (Broken Well Trilogy)

by Sam Bowring

  ‘Dragon! The blue-haired man awaits you!’

  There was no answer from the cave, no sound at all except Bel’s words echoing off cliffs.

  ‘Some respect may not go astray,’ said Hiza.

  ‘You’re welcome to try,’ Bel replied.

  Looking dubious, Hiza raised his voice. ‘Oh mighty dragon, we come seeking an audience . . . to beg a favour in the war against the shadow! Will you hear our plea?’

  More moments of silence passed.

  ‘Dragons don’t care about the war,’ said Fazel. ‘And they never give up something from their hoard willingly.’

  ‘Perhaps they’re not home?’ said Jaya. ‘Someone should scout.’

  Bel reached a decision. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But not you. Fazel will go. He has dealt with dragons before and, as a bonus, does not mind if he gets incinerated.’

  He glanced at Fazel, and the undead mage gave a nod.

  ‘If you see the Stone,’ said Bel, ‘and think you can get it without alerting the dragon, do so. Otherwise, report back to us.’

  Swiftly the mage slipped up to the cave mouth, where he disappeared into the dark.

  Minutes passed like hours. Bel felt uncomfortable, uncertain whether this was the right course. It did not seem very heroic to wait while another member of the party put himself in danger, yet commonsense told him to be patient. He glanced at the tree line to make sure no Mireforms were sneaking up on them.

  ‘You had better see this,’ came Fazel’s voice, startling him. He squinted at the cave and realised the mage stood in front of it, black on black and difficult to make out.

  ‘What have you found?’ he called back, but Fazel had disappeared again.

  Cursing, Bel stalked up the hill, the others following him closely. Outside the cave he paused, until he was able to see a little way inside.

  A wide tunnel sloped downwards.

  ‘Light our way,’ he instructed Gellan.

  ‘I dare not,’ said Gellan quickly. ‘Dragons can sense magic. If one lurks in there, it would be like a beacon.’

  ‘Less of a beacon than an undead mage?’ said Bel.

  ‘No. The casting of magic is a different thing from something that simply is magical.’

  ‘Yet Fazel calls us in,’ said Bel. ‘He wouldn’t do that if there was danger.’

  ‘Blade Bel,’ sighed Gellan. ‘Has it not occurred to you that since the Shadowdreamer has sent his Mireforms here, he probably knows of our purpose? Therefore he might also know that we travel with Fazel, and could turn him against us at any time?’

  Bel frowned . . . such a thing had not occurred to him. Stupid!

  ‘It astounds me that you have waited till now to voice these concerns,’ he snapped at the mage. ‘You really should have, on the off-chance that the rest of us have failed to have parallel thoughts.’

  ‘I simply mean we should proceed with caution,’ said Gellan. ‘A little light filters in from outside, see? Our eyes will adjust. Let us not rely on magic just yet.’

  Bel grunted and moved into the cave. An acrid tang met his nostrils, sulfurous and growing stronger as they worked downwards. M’Meska scraped a clawed foot along the ground, knocking pebbles loose to roll ahead of them into the dark.

  ‘Careful!’ said Bel. ‘Quiet.’

  ‘Not built for sneaking,’ complained the Saurian.

  Bel glanced around for Jaya but could not see her. Was that a comfort or not? She was extremely stealthy when she needed to be, but was she moving with the group, or had she gone off ahead as she’d wanted? Certainly he wouldn’t put it past her.

  He stayed on the left wall, one hand feeling his way and the other ready with his sword. As the light that leaked through the cave mouth behind grew dimmer, an eerie red glow appeared ahead. Soon it was bright enough that they could make out their footing, and Bel noticed Jaya alongside him on the opposite wall. So she had not ignored him after all. Unusual, when she had an idea in her head . . . maybe she was not feeling as cocky now that they were actually here.

  As the tunnel opened out into a cavern, Fazel appeared at its entrance and beckoned to them.

  ‘Come,’ he said. ‘It is safe.’

  With Gellan’s doubts lingering in his head, Bel edged to join the mage, keeping his sword in hand. If Fazel took note of this new distrust, there was no sign of it in his black sockets.

  A waft of warm air came up over the lip of the tunnel, bringing with it a stink like burning oil, and Bel gagged.

  ‘What’s that?’ he choked.

  ‘Dragon’s blood,’ said Fazel, and gestured into the cavern.

  Pits of glowing coals around the walls made the air shimmer with heat. In the centre, lit up like some macabre exhibit, was the mutilated carcass of Shebazaruka. Long rents in her sides oozed scarlet, and flaps of scaled hide hung over gaping holes where chunks of flesh had been torn away down to the bone. Her head lay at the end of a scored and twisted neck, her lower jaw dangling freely from an impossibly thin shred. The earthy floor was stained with blood, hardened in the heat. Glistening blobs of flesh were strewn across her central mound.

  ‘Mud monsters get here first,’ said M’Meska, seeming unaffected by the stench.

  ‘Aye,’ said Bel darkly, his hand over his mouth. All his keen anticipation of this moment disappeared, unfulfilled, and a great hollow yawned in its wake. Even his breath seemed to desert him. He felt beaten. What should have been glorious battle was instead bloody murder, for it looked as if the dragon had been caught unawares, asleep and dead before she knew it. There was no sense of a fight, and from the way her blood and flesh lay like a shockwave around her, he could tell she had not moved from the mound during the attack. ‘Cowards,’ muttered Bel.

  The others glanced at him.

  ‘To slay such a creature in her sleep. The underhanded tactics of the shadow.’

  Gellan nodded slowly. ‘It is unfortunate indeed that the dragon had to die.’

  ‘Unfortunate?’ spat Bel. ‘This from the man who gives me lectures on the nature of beauty? He is moved by trees but not by this?’ He swept a hand around the cavern.

  ‘We thank mud monsters should,’ said M’Meska. She bobbed towards the body, crunching across a layer of dried blood. ‘Big lizard hard to kill.’

  ‘No cause to thank them,’ said Bel. Through the fug of his disappointment he realised that there was a more important failure looming at him. ‘They will have made off with the Stone.’

  ‘We should look, at least,’ said Jaya, her sleeve across her mouth. Bel noticed her considering the gold and other valuable objects that lay here and there in the earth.

  ‘I suppose we should. Go to it.’

  As the others moved away, and Hiza and Jaya went to join him. Bel held back, trying to make up his mind whether he could stand to go also, to poke with his sword through bloody earth in search of the damnable Stone. He kept going blank as he considered it, the all-too-familiar feeling of something inside him missing, something his other might feel about the situation that he therefore did not. It was not right that his sword was reduced to such prodding when it thirsted to be sheathed in flesh.

  ‘We should not forget,’ said Gellan anxiously by his side, ‘that there is another dragon also . . . if the son has not moved on, he might be back at any time.’

  A flicker of hope rose in Bel . . . perhaps he still might dance a mighty dance this day. Then his eyes fell on Jaya, who grinned sheepishly as she retrieved a golden necklace from the dirt – not the Stone – and he forced himself to remember that while they tarried here, they were all in danger.

  ‘Well then,’ he said to Gellan, ‘you had better hurry up and help the others make a thorough search.’

  Gellan glanced at him oddly, then moved away into the cavern. As if in a daze, Bel followed. Jaya was now standing by a gold statue of a strange man with a scarred face, about a pace tall, as if thinking about how to carry it. Nearby, Fazel stooped to grasp the protruding handle of something buried, and pulled it fr
ee. It was a ceramic water jug, painted with intricate figures.

  ‘What’s that?’ Bel asked in annoyance.

  ‘Something magic,’ said Fazel. ‘Hence I was drawn to it. But it’s not what we search for.’

  ‘What’s magic about it?’

  ‘I think a simple protection spell, to stop it breaking.’

  ‘Let’s see,’ said Bel, and took the jug. He hurled it at the wall where, instead of breaking, it bounced off unharmed.

  Bel scowled.

  •

  Eldew, who stood like rock against the cliff a short distance from the cave mouth, let his beady eyes pop out onto the surface.

  ‘They’ve gone in,’ said Tarka.

  ‘Do we follow?’ said Ectid.

  ‘No,’ said Eldew. ‘They might find what we could not.’

  He was troubled. Although they had ploughed through the dirt for at least an hour – the most they could stand in that terrible heat after slaughtering Shebazaruka – they’d found nothing matching the Stone’s description. All he could think to do was hope that Bel’s group would have better luck locating it. Then, once they emerged, the Mireforms could take it away from them – while of course being careful not to harm the blue-haired man in the process.

  There was also the matter of the second dragon, whom they had seen leave the cave that morning. The Shadowdreamer had ordered it killed also, but they had no way of knowing where it had gone or how long it would be away. If it showed up while Bel was in the cave, they would have to intercept it, but if not . . . well, that was the question. What to do next? He would need to confront Bel to find out whether or not the Stone had been found, but he did not want to do it outside the cave in case the other dragon returned. It would be too difficult to control a battle on two fronts against such opponents.

  He did not like to divide his force, but perhaps he had to. The younger Mireforms, only a few centuries old, were a little too full of themselves right now, glutted on the killing of Shebazaruka . . . even though she had been asleep, and dead too quickly to raise any resistance. What they viewed as victory Eldew did not. He regretted the ease of the killing somewhat, for it had made the young ones think their task too easy, and that if the second dragon turned up, angry and awake, it would be just as simple to dispatch.

  Two to go, four to stay, he decided reluctantly.

  ‘Ectid, Gremin,’ he said, choosing the youngest and eldest. ‘You will set a trail from the cave mouth, in our natural form. Head east, along the earth where your footprints will be clearly seen. Travel for an hour at most.’

  ‘Why?’ said Ectid, clearly not wanting to be sent away.

  ‘Because if the blue-haired man follows you, I will know he hasn’t found the Stone and thus suspects we have it.’

  ‘What if he does not follow?’ said Gremin.

  ‘Then neither will we. Like as not he will lead his group back to the village at the forest’s edge. If we have not joined you by nightfall, journey to meet us there.’

  Ectid gurgled and Gremin rose, shedding his rock form as long limbs and claws unfurled.

  •

  Losara let his senses expand widely throughout the cavern. He wasn’t sure what the Stone would feel like, or if he would even know it at all. Maybe the Mireforms had found it already, maybe they hadn’t. He wasn’t sure yet what he preferred.

  He glanced at Bel, who was wandering around the dragon’s corpse, inspecting it with his sword still in his hand.

  Robbed of the fight, Losara thought. Disappointed. How strange. He thought of the expression on Bel’s face when he’d reminded him there was still another dragon – it had been something close to hopeful.

  Perhaps . . . came Fazel’s thought.

  What is it? sent Losara.

  Perhaps I’ve found it.

  Wait for me to get there.

  ‘What is that?’ asked Bel, standing by Fazel. Fazel was levitating one of the dragon’s bloody claws off the ground, fresh blood leaking from deep scratches.

  Too late I fear, came Fazel’s thought, almost mocking in its lack of emotion.

  Dangling from the dragon’s claw was a chain of black gold with a pendant affixed that looked like a small rock.

  ‘Must have been precious to her,’ said Fazel, ‘for her to sleep with it under her claw. Seems her son must have repeated those stories I told him about its worth. Strange that he even gave it to her – it’s very unlike normal dragon behaviour.’

  Bel reached to snatch the chain, and held the Stone up to his fiercely blazing eyes.

  ‘We found it!’ he said. ‘By Arkus . . .’

  Strange patterns moved across the rock’s surface – greys, blues, darkness and light, tinges of yellow. It was a subtle effect, yet otherworldly.

  ‘The Stone of Evenings Mild!’

  From the look on his face, he could scarcely believe it.

  The others came running eagerly. Jaya gave a whoop, and threw her arms around Bel. M’Meska landed heavily, having leaped from somewhere, and crooked her head to sniff at the chain.

  ‘Such a small thing,’ said Hiza, staring in wonder.

  All the while Losara stood calmly, considering his next move. He could take the Stone right now, if he wished, and there was little they could do to stop him. It would mean dropping his disguise, but he had probably learned everything he could. He felt this moment keenly. It was as if he stood at a crossroads . . . and yet perhaps he could defer the decision until they were all free and clear.

  ‘Come,’ he said. ‘We can celebrate later, in less perilous confines. The other dragon could return at any time, and who knows where the Mireforms lurk, if they have failed to achieve their purpose.’

  He wondered if they had killed the other dragon too, if Bel was now safe . . . but without being able to find them to ask, he could not be sure.

  ‘Yes,’ said Hiza, who, unlike Bel, had the sense to be edgy down here. ‘Let us make haste!’

  ‘Just one more minute,’ said Jaya, stopping to scoop gold coins from the ground.

  ‘Come on, you,’ said Bel, playfully grabbing her ear as if she was a recalcitrant child. She grinned up at him cheekily: either his excitement was contagious or she was gleeful after running amok through a treasure trove. ‘Listen to that, you’re already clinking when you move. I saw you eyeing off that statue too – did you really think you could lug such a weight all the way home?’

  Jaya shrugged. ‘A solid chunk of pure gold is worth considering. Even if it’s carved to look like some ugly old man.’

  Losara had recognised the statue as a bust of Raker, the Shadowdreamer Battu had overthrown. No wonder he did not mind removing it from the castle.

  Jaya came to her feet, managing to keep hold of some of the coins while others slipped from her fingers. ‘You can’t blame me,’ she said. ‘It’s not every day I get set loose in a dragon’s hoard.’

  Laughing, the two of them led the way back to the passage. Hiza followed quickly and, as M’Meska went, she also snatched a handful of coins from the ground, shooting Losara a look that dared him to object.

  ‘You think just because I not a thief,’ she said, ‘I not can spend such pretties in tavern?’

  ‘You’ve earned it,’ said Losara, forcing a smile.

  As they walked, a welcome breeze of fresh air came down the tunnel, shearing the edge off the powerful stench of the lair. Soon they were outside in the sun.

  ‘What now?’ said Hiza.

  ‘We make for Kahlay,’ said Bel. ‘Back the way we came.’

  ‘Look.’ M’Meska bent to touch the ground. From the cave’s entrance ran footprints, off past a group of large rocks and heading east. ‘Mireform go that way.’

  ‘Good,’ said Bel, glancing briefly at the tracks. ‘Let them crawl back to Fenvarrow empty-handed. We’ve got what we came for.’

  He held the Stone aloft in the light.

  The Warriors

  The Warriors

  The Warriors

  The return through the
woods was largely uneventful. It seemed to Bel as if somehow they made better progress than when they’d actually been rushing. Maybe in their haste they had got off track – but that didn’t make sense, for they followed their own trail back. Maybe anxiety had made the time seem to pass more slowly, and elation at their success had the opposite effect. Anyway, it hardly mattered – he had the Stone!

  Darkness set in about an hour after they passed the clearing they’d slept in the night before. As they set about making camp, Bel could not help but have distrustful thoughts over those tracks they’d seen leading away from the cave. Would the Mireforms really give up so easily? Or had his other given them orders not to engage him? That made more sense, for he knew Losara did not, could not, wish him dead.

  As he thought of the Shadowdreamer, he remembered Gellan’s words at the cave mouth about Fazel. He watched the green-robed figure sitting glumly, skeletal elbows resting on his knees, bony chin on his hands. Gellan had been right, of course – if Losara had known they headed to the dragon’s lair, surely he would know who it was that guided them.

  ‘Fazel,’ he said, and the skull gaze turned to him.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Show me again your old face – your true face. Please.’

  The mage paused quizzically, then passed a hand over himself. The skull rippled away, replaced by the bearded old man with grey eyes.

  ‘Why do you not wear this face more often?’ asked Bel.

  The mage prodded at the ground with a stick. ‘It saddens me,’ was all he said.

  He should release Fazel, Bel knew. Not only was it the prudent thing to do, it was also the right thing. But they were not free of the dragon’s territory yet, and there was also the possibility that the Mireforms would come back. Although the beasts were resistant to magic, that did not void a mage’s power against them. Directly targeted spells would do no good, but there were always indirect methods – such as bringing trees crashing down, or opening up pits in the ground.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Bel said, ‘I shall make you a promise, Fazel – that once we get a little further away, I will free you from your service once and for all.’