‘I don’t know.’
A crackling voice came at them from all sides at once, making them flinch, booming from the mountainsides, echoing its own echoes …
‘Throne Fahren,’ said Arkus. ‘What do you come seeking?’
Fahren licked his lips. Even though he had spoken with the god before, it was still a daunting experience.
‘My …my great lord,’ he called, his own voice tiny in comparison. ‘I come seeking advice. The shadow marches –’
‘Yes,’ said Arkus, drowning him out, ‘and you bring one of them with you. Lord Battu, once the Shadowdreamer, sworn enemy of the light – step forward.’
Squinting fiercely, his eyes watering, Battu haltingly obeyed. As he did, it seemed as if the sun itself pulsed.
‘Oh great Arkus,’ called Battu hesitantly, ‘I come to serve you!’
‘You,’ said Arkus, rumbling tremors accompanying his words, ‘who have killed my people for the sake of conquest …and killed his own as well, a beast amongst beasts …who sought the blue-haired boy, so you might destroy me …’ Rocks tumbled from cliff tops as the air reverberated with the god’s fury. ‘You, Lord Battu, stand upon the very bridge of morning and entreat me to find you chastened ?’
Battu flung his arms wide, forcing his eyes open, tears streaming as he stared into the sun. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, my lord.’
The mountains ceased their trembling.
‘Then receive my messenger,’ said Arkus.
A twitter sounded from above. A small bird swooped down and landed on Battu’s outstretched hand, transparent save for the glowing lines that defined its body, and its distinctive blood-drop eyes. Fahren felt his stomach lurch as he realised who it was.
‘Iassia,’ he murmured.
The weaver cocked his head. ‘The very same,’ he said. ‘And I must thank you for this brief respite from my cage. For reasons known best to himself, our judicious lord has granted me the honour of binding Battu to his word.’
Battu stared at the tiny creature in horror, his arm frozen as if a venomous spider sat upon it. ‘But I have already betrayed the Dark Gods,’ he said, ‘and can never return to their service. I have journeyed here, to the light’s most sacred place, forsaking all that I once was. Why,’ he shouted to the valley, ‘must I be bound?’
‘Because,’ said Iassia, ‘as your death comes creeping, your fear of what lies beyond may overpower all else. What does Assedrynn have in store for you, should you return to him? Perhaps he’ll lock you away forever in a place containing nothing at all but your own thoughts, only letting you out to serve as a reminder of what can happen when we lesser beings incur the ire of gods. Or perhaps he will be more creative.’
The sun seemed to flare behind him, and Iassia gave a fearful twitter.
‘Faced with such punishment,’ he continued, ‘who knows what changes of heart the future brings, when grand examples can already be seen in your past, Battu. And, since you are required to retain your shadowy aspect in order to be of use to us, we cannot simply “cure” you of it and welcome you to the fold. You remain a hugger in the hen house, and hence require muzzling.’
‘If you’re true to us as you say,’ added Fahren quietly, ‘then such a binding changes nothing.’ Internally he felt the hypocrisy in his words – there was no reason, however noble, why he would enjoy sacrificing his free will to a weaver.
Iassia’s eyes flicked to his. ‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘Look whose tongue’s worn smooth as a river stone. Thank you for your help, Throne Fahren, but I do not need you to put gloss on my words.’
Fahren felt tangible hatred from the bird then, and he realised that Iassia’s return to Arkus had not changed him a bit. Why did the Sun God not simply destroy him, and return his soul to the Great Well?
‘But,’ said Battu slowly, ‘in order to bind me to your will, you have to make a deal with me.’
‘Correct,’ said Iassia.
‘Which means you must do something for me.’
‘And so I will. Now, submit.’
‘But –’
‘Submit, Battu! Open your mind!’
Battu’s eyes snapped shut, and he snarled. ‘Do it, then.’
Iassia took off to hover before Battu a moment, then tapped his brow with his beak. Battu flinched. As the bird set down on the bridge before them, Battu slowly opened his eyes. Fahren noticed that, as the sun continued to rise, the bridge was growing less defined.
Not much time left, and I have not even asked what I came here to.
‘It seems we have an accord,’ chirped Iassia. ‘And as your favour to me, you will help the light achieve victory over the shadow until your dying day.’
‘Only that?’ said Battu. ‘And what favour will you do for me, not yet agreed on, and unasked for?’
‘I shall remove the foreign threads from your mind,’ said Iassia.
‘What?’
‘Did you not know? You spent too long with the sharks, Battu.’
Iassia spread his wings low, and Battu gave a jerk. From out of his forehead emerged shadowy lines, twitching like worms. They floated away, fading from the world. Battu blinked, and frowned.
Fahren wondered at the wisdom of the move – such a strong influence the sharks had been, on Battu’s single and bloody-mindedness, on the way he focused on his goals. There would be time to ponder it later, however, for more important was his question.
‘Oh Arkus!’ he called. ‘The bridge fades with the coming of day. I beg you to hear me.’
‘Speak, Throne Fahren,’ said Arkus. ‘The weaver’s work is done. Return, Iassia, to your cage.’
The bird gave an alarmed chirp, and disappeared instantly.
‘The shadow marches,’ began Fahren, ‘with a terrible creature, not of this world. A shadowmander, many times larger than any seen in nature. None can stand against it, lord, for its scales turn back all spells and blades.’
‘You were right,’ said Arkus, ‘when you guessed it was legacy magic.’
‘But how?’
‘Built from the souls of our departing dead, captured when Holdwith fell.’
So that was Losara’s reason for striking Holdwith – yet even in comprehending why, Fahren could not imagine how such defilement was even possible. But with the bridge fading quickly underfoot, he had to hurry.
‘How can we defeat it?’
‘The shadowmander is composed of many legacies,’ answered Arkus, ‘but it started with one – Elessa Lanclara’s, cast upon the First Slave Tyrellan as her final revenge.’
Elessa? thought Fahren. In a dream he had seen the very moment she had died, cursing Tyrellan with her legacy spell of a beautiful butterfly – which meant that if the shadowmander had been built on top of it, it was also attached to the goblin.
‘We must kill the First Slave?’ Fahren ventured. At his words Battu seemed to come back to himself, taking immediate interest.
‘No,’ said Arkus. ‘The creature would still be tied to his remains, and they could be moved wherever Losara desires.’
‘Then what, oh lord?’
‘The cornerstone on which the creature is built must be reclaimed.’
‘But legacy magic is impossible to affect.’
‘For all,’ said Arkus, ‘save the one who cast it. She could draw it back into her soul, where it belongs.’
Fahren’s jaw dropped open.
‘The bridge fades,’ said Arkus, his voice growing softer. ‘Make haste – there is no easy way out of the valley, should one fall into it.’
With Battu reeling from the changes wrought so swiftly on his mind, and Fahren’s own distress at what he thought he was being ordered to do, they now both stood stunned as the bridge disappeared beneath them. Forcing himself into action, Fahren took Battu by the shoulder and steered him back towards the cliff.
‘Hurry,’ he said. ‘Move those feet, up and down.’
‘Don’t mollycoddle me,’ spat Battu, and shifted from Fahren’s grip to stride ahead. He reached the end of the bridge, stepped off and spun around.