by Sam Bowring
Or maybe you’re too much the worn-out old dog, his fleas starved for the thinness of his blood.
I thought you were sworn to aid me , said Fahren angrily, getting to his feet.
Precisely what I’m doing.
As Fahren rejoined the ranks, Brahl could be heard approaching, loudly ordering lightfists aside. He rode into view, his armour badly dented at the shoulder, blood oozing from between a join.
‘Take that pauldron off,’ said Fahren. ‘I’ll heal you.’
‘What’s this,’ snapped Brahl, ignoring his offer, ‘about the blue-haired man being kidnapped?’
Fahren paused uncertainly, but Battu stepped forward. ‘His soul has gone into the Stone and hasn’t come out again – quite the surprise, actually. The Stone itself has been captured by Corlas, the boy’s father, you remember, who has most probably taken it to Whisperwood.’
Battu was right of course, though his inexplicable enjoyment of the chaos around them was beginning to grate on Fahren. Still, there was no doubting where Bel and Losara had been taken.
‘Whisperwood?’ said Brahl.
‘The only place Old Magic remains,’ explained Fahren. ‘The last sanctuary of the Sprites.’
‘But why?’
Battu shrugged. ‘Can’t imagine.’
‘We must go and find out,’ said Fahren, giving Battu a glower.
‘But Throne,’ said Brahl, steadying his restless horse, ‘a battle still goes on, if you’ve forgotten. We need mages out there with our troops – there have been too many tied up here for too long.’
Fahren knew he spoke the truth. Every last able pair of hands would be needed here. Quickly he reached a decision. ‘You take command,’ he told Brahl. ‘I shall go. Battu with me, and maybe one other.’ He cast his mind about.
Elessa.
Yes?
You are needed.
You are supposed to release me.
You are needed! he said forcefully, vexed that she would not, could not seem to remember that all the releasing in the world would do her no good if she had no Well to return to …and yet instantly he regretted the harshness of his tone. Please , he added, knowing it was an empty word, and that he was giving her no choice.
Sighing, he turned to Battu. ‘Fetch our horses,’ he said.
•
Tyrellan did not know what to do. A rare feeling, and one he cared for about as much as the sunlight piercing his eyes. He sent his gaze skywards – why didn’t the Dark Gods see fit to interfere, as he had seen them do before in this lifetime? Where were the dark storm clouds rolling in – did they not realise how critical these moments were? Then, as his sight adjusted to the glare, he noticed wispy clouds far above, though they were small and moving quickly. Perhaps the gods were trying, but Arkus was too strong here, and blew their clouds away like wishes.
Whisperwood. That was where he had seen the gods war with weather, on the night he had gone to capture the blue-haired baby. Whisperwood, where Losara’s father had been living, the man Tyrellan had recognised under his Sprite vestiges, who had taken the Stone and therefore Losara …
What to do?
No doubt the light would be sending someone, and Losara would be caught between two enemies …although would he see his father as an enemy? What were Corlas’s intentions?
With the dreamer gone and Roma dead, Tyrellan was left solely in charge. If he could smash the light’s forces here and now, would it matter what shape Losara emerged in from the Stone, if he even did?
‘Their mages are finally spreading out,’ came Turen’s voice beside him. ‘What are your orders, sir?’
He could not abandon the blue-haired man! The prophecy might still hold, and there were other reasons besides. For a moment he saw the little boy, reaching up to tweak him on the claw, so unthinkingly bold when others cowered in terror and wanted nothing to do with any claw of Tyrellan’s.
‘Take charge,’ he said. ‘You’re up to it.’ He turned to Turen. ‘Aren’t you?’
Turen did not blink. ‘Of course, sir.’
Tyrellan nodded. ‘I’m going after the Shadowdreamer.’ He cast his gaze about the shadow mages, and found whom he searched for.
‘Fazel!’ he barked.
Yes?
Attend me. You are going to speed us to the river.
•
As Lalenda made it back to the mages, they dropped the ward upon her. She spotted Tyrellan and Fazel on horses galloping off towards the river, while Commander Turen was striding about shouting orders. Stepping in his way, she interrupted him mid-sentence.
‘Where has Tyrellan gone?’ she demanded.
‘To Whisperwood, mistress,’ he said, and strode on.
‘Whisperwood,’ she muttered. Was that where they had taken Losara?
‘What we be doing, flutterbug?’ said Grimra.
She considered the way north. Travelling to Whisperwood would mean flying over enemy troops, but maybe if she climbed high enough …most of the Zyvanix seemed to be fighting the Graka anyway, so she should be able to steer clear of them.
‘Going to get Losara,’ she said, spreading her wings.
•
‘Would you mind doing that elsewhere?’ came a voice, and Jaya turned in irritation to discover a healer frowning at her.
‘What?’ she said. She had not been doing anything …and that was the problem.
‘The pacing,’ said the woman, gesturing at the grass, and the furrows Jaya had evidently tramped there. ‘It’s unsettling the wounded.’
‘Fine,’ said Jaya, and turned back towards the battle. ‘You’d think,’ she said to herself, ‘that with all that’s going on, a bit of Arkus-damned pacing wouldn’t matter to anyone.’
Three riders broke from the fray heading towards her. They were moving unnaturally quickly, and moments later she could make out Fahren’s blond hair, and Elessa’s, and the dark tangle of cloak and scowl that was Battu. What had happened to make them return? Yet as they approached the camp, they didn’t look like slowing down. Without thinking, she dashed to stand in their way, holding up her hands, but they broke around her.
There’s no time , came Fahren’s voice in her head.
What goes on ? she said.
Bel and Losara are in the Stone , said Fahren. Corlas has taken it to Whisperwood. We shall do our best, I promise you, to get him back.
Wait! she yelled in her mind, but there was no more.
They blurred through the camp, on towards the distant wood. Incomprehension swamped her – Bel and Losara were in the Stone? What had happened? Didn’t Bel merging with Losara mean victory? And Corlas, Fahren had said – Corlas was back?
Overhead she saw a dark blot in the sky, and squinted.
Lalenda.
Avoiding the mindless chaos of battle was one thing, but if Fahren, or Bel, or anyone, thought she was going to idle here while others raced to decide the fate of her man, they had lost their collective mind.
She spun and saw the healer who had just chastised her stooping over a horse’s hoof and waggling her fingers. Jaya ran and leaped onto the beast’s back.
‘Wait!’ said the startled woman. ‘I’ve only just mended her! She should not be ridden right away!’
Jaya ignored her, kicking the horse into action.
In the distance, storm clouds were beginning to gather over Whisperwood.
•
With three potent mages each speeding their own horse, it took little time to reach the wood. Fahren dismounted before the tall grey trees, and stared in with some trepidation. There was something there, something on the edge of his senses that he could not identify, which could mean only one thing: Old Magic. He reached a hand between the trunks and met resistance, a grey shimmer appearing at his fingertips.
‘There’s a barrier of some kind,’ he said.
The world darkened as a shadow fell across them.
‘Look,’ said Battu, and Fahren followed his gaze skywards.
Clouds were forming thick and
fast, though each floated distinctly separate. In the spaces between them the sun still shone, even more brightly than usual perhaps, great golden rays stabbing down at the wood.
‘They’ve been at it all day up there,’ said Battu. ‘You have noticed, no doubt? Assedrynn has not been able to get a foothold. So why …’ He averted his eyes as the cloud they’d been standing under floated onwards, replaced by glare.
‘Why now?’ finished Fahren. ‘Why here?’
‘Perhaps,’ said Elessa, ‘they are cooperating.’
Fahren and Battu turned to her slowly.
‘Well,’ she continued, ‘each of them wants what’s in the wood. If there’s something standing in their way, perhaps it’s better to join forces now and fight over it themselves later.’
‘My enemy’s enemy …’ said Battu. ‘You may be right.’
Disturbed by the idea of the gods banding together, Fahren turned back to the wood. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘Old Magic may be strong, but so are we. We must,’ he cast a bolt, punching the barrier and making it wobble greyly, ‘break our way in.’
•
Corlas had drained his power mightily while out of the wood, but now he felt it slowly replenishing. He stepped onto the coiled root at the edge of his clearing, as the warriors who’d been with him joined the other assembled Sprites below. They were waiting for their lord to address them, though he remained uncertain of what to say. He raised the Stone to show them, its chain clutched tightly in his fist, but hardly heard the triumphant whoops that sounded at the sight of it. Were his sons, his son, inside? He, they, had to be …but what now, what next?
Corlas.
My Lady! I have the Stone, but …I do not know …
Do not fear for your boy’s life.
He is inside the Stone?
Yes.
Why does he not emerge?
There must be a reckoning of some kind. Perhaps not all is easy, when fitting dissident parts together.
How long will it take?
Corlas, I have not all the answers. Listen, for I must away swiftly. Arkus and Assedrynn are enraged, and have joined forces to attack our defences. I don’t know how long I can maintain the barriers that prevent their folk from entering. I must see to them, and you must send warriors to bolster my efforts! In the meantime, protect the Stone. I shall return once your son emerges, to awaken his Sprite blood as I did yours.
‘Warriors!’ called Corlas. ‘Our enemies seek to invade our realm! Scatter to our southern borders and stop them!’
Resolute anger greeted his words, and Sprites ran into the trees. Corlas stepped off the root to land heavily in the clearing, where those remaining parted for him. There were many who had not the training or skill to fight, but he knew that before the day was out he might need the aid of all of them.
‘The rest of you,’ he said, ‘protect the clearing!’
He went to his hut – still the same old shelter it had always been, except the flower garden had grown tall enough to spill over the roof. He put the Stone down on the bed, then stared at it for a long moment.
It lay right about where his boy had been born while Mirrow lay dying.
•
The shade of a cloud found Lalenda, and she was thankful for the relief it offered. The treetops of Whisperwood stretched out beneath as far as she could see, and she had no clue where to start looking. All she knew was that Losara had been born in a hut in a clearing, but that had been almost twenty years ago now. There was no telling if the clearing still existed, or if that was where Corlas would take him.
She dropped lower, intending to take a look underneath the canopy. It was a mean tangle, however, branches unnaturally twisted around each other, twigs poking out at all kinds of angles, leaves clustering to obscure her view. She flew on, looking for a better place. A few minutes later, frustrated, she set down on a branch.
‘Can you gnash your way through this?’ she asked.
‘Not be looking very tasty,’ said Grimra. Nonetheless his fangs appeared and he went at the trees. Woodchips started flying, branches cracking and shards raining down …yet even as he bored his hole, before Lalenda’s eyes other branches snaked in, intertwining to seal it up again.
‘Wait, Grimra,’ she said. As the ghost made a series of spitting noises, the wood closed up once more until it showed no sign of having been attacked. Overhead a cloud moved on, and the sun that replaced it was blistering.
‘Let’s find another way in,’ she said, and rose to head south. As she came to the edge of the wood, she heard a neighing beneath, and instantly set down. Stealing forward over the blockade of vegetation, she peeped over to see who it was.
Jaya.
Lalenda both could not, and somehow very much could, believe it. Of course Jaya would be here, just as of course Lalenda had come. She felt the tips of her claws poke from her fingertips, heard Grimra mutter, ‘Lady light creature. Grimra to bite her in the heart?’
She hesitated, unsure why. There was so much uncertainty now – Jaya had not killed her when she could have, and had stopped that soldier shooting at Losara.
Grimra apparently suffered no such ambivalence, for he swooped down immediately.
•
Jaya stared warily into the wood. Dark patches moved between the trees as the clouds that cast them floated on, stealing over branches and ferns, sending strange shadows shifting. Interspersed were patches of brilliant sunshine, cut into multiple beams by their passage through the canopy, brightly lighting up spots of foliage. The whole effect was entirely otherworldly.
Summoning her courage, she stepped inside. As she crossed the brink there was a whoosh and a great howl behind her, and she shrieked and leaped away. Landing with her heart pounding, she tried to make sense of what she saw. Across the threshold of the wood a grey barrier shimmered translucently, against which a disembodied flurry of long flashing teeth and claws threw itself. Beyond it a Mire Pixie set down on the grass – Lalenda.
Jaya rose cautiously, her hand going to her sword, but despite whatever it was hurling itself repeatedly at the wood, it rebounded every time.
‘Desist, Grimra,’ said Lalenda, and trotted up to the trees to peer in. She held out her hand cautiously and met with the same grey resistance. Jaya raised her sword in warning and the pixie backed away a little. Jaya approached, wary not to cross the barrier, only holding out a hand to wave it through and back where these others had failed.
‘What trick is this?’ said Lalenda.
Jaya found herself angry with the Mire Pixie. ‘Damn you, girl,’ she said. ‘Have you nothing to do with your time but attack me?’
‘I did not attack you.’
‘What was that thing, then?’
‘That be Grimra,’ said Lalenda. The air about her swirled, lifting her skirt and stirring her hair. ‘You could say he’s my guardian. I did not bring him the last time we met, or else you wouldn’t be standing there. But I did not set him on you just now.’
Jaya laughed suddenly, having worked it out. ‘I’m a Sprite,’ she said. ‘That’s why I can enter the wood and you can’t! This,’ she looked around, ‘is my ancestral home.’
Lalenda’s face fell as she took in the news. For a moment she looked terribly lost. ‘I can’t get in above either,’ she said miserably.
As she had done at the stream, Jaya found herself strangely empathising with the pixie. Of all the beings in the world, this was the only other who knew what it was like to love a blue-haired man. And, like Jaya, her man was trapped inside some Arkus-forsaken rock, stolen for reasons she did not comprehend. Had he emerged yet? No way to tell. Who would he be when he did?
‘Listen, Lalenda,’ she said, ‘can we not agree that we want the same thing?’
Lalenda stared at her with suspicious cobalt eyes.
‘We both,’ continued Jaya, ‘want to get to wherever they have taken …him.’
‘Yes.’
‘And, without knowing what in four shades of shit he is going to be like
when he comes out of that thing, we ,’ she moved a finger between them, ‘can do nothing more than go and see. There’s no point killing each other, is there? We do that and maybe Bel emerges hating you, or Losara hating me, or …something else. Who knows?’
Lalenda bit her lip. ‘What are you suggesting?’
‘This guardian of yours – can he be taken off my scent?’
‘Yes.’
Jaya held out her hand. ‘Well, come on, then.’
Lalenda took a hesitant step towards her. ‘You think you can usher me through the barrier?’
Jaya shrugged. ‘Not sure. Worth a try, don’t you think?’
Lalenda’s brow creased uncertainly, but she reached out to take Jaya’s hand – the skin of her fingers rough around the slits that hid away her claws. Jaya pulled and Lalenda stumbled forward, through the barrier. A few steps later she came to a halt, and patted herself down as if worried she wouldn’t be intact. Finding that she was, she looked around at the wood, and gave a disbelieving little chuckle. As her eyes met Jaya’s, however, the mirth faded.
‘But why?’ she said.
Jaya quirked a smile. ‘Look around. This wood is too spooky to be sneaking around in without company.’
‘I think it’s quite nice,’ said Lalenda.
‘Well, you would, I suppose. But we stand a better chance together, don’t you agree?’
A curl of white frothed at her knee and there was a low growl.
‘Hush, Grimra,’ said Lalenda. ‘There is to be no eating this woman. For now.’
‘Too kind,’ said Jaya, then cocked her head. Someone was coming.
‘What is it?’ said Lalenda, but Jaya held a finger to her lips. She glanced around, spotted a large cluster of ferns at the base of a tree, and gestured towards them. Lalenda frowned without comprehension, but Jaya led the way, going down on her knees and crawling into the plants. A couple of moments later, the pixie followed.
‘What are we doing in here?’ she whispered.
‘Hiding,’ breathed Jaya, and pointed out from the fronds.
A Sprite woman appeared, treading quietly through the undergrowth. She was fluid and yet exact in her movements, even her long hair swishing to a standstill when she did. She was lithe and slender, not much younger than Jaya herself, and Jaya wondered if there was reason to fear her. The ferns rustled as a chilling breeze crept through them and stole onwards towards the woman. For a moment she paused, as if listening to something. Jaya wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard voices.