Of the some five hundred Sprites who lived in the wood, he had selected an elite, mainly from the younger ones who had grown up never knowing any different way of life. Those chosen were strong in Old Magic, the lost magic, yet even with such power at their fingertips, there was little hope of tackling the enemy armies head-on. They were going to have to choose their moment well if they were to bring his son back to the wood, once he was remade. Quite how this would happen remained a worrying question, but the Lady Vyasinth did not seem overly concerned. She had a degree of faith in fate, it seemed, that Corlas was not sure he shared – awakened to his Sprite past he may be, but he still preferred plans. And yet she might be proven right, for Losara was now drawing closer to the wood, and where Losara went surely Bel would follow. Corlas needed them both nearby to have any chance of victory. The Sprites could carry their magic out of the wood for a short time only, and once they depleted all reserves there would be no way to replenish them except to return.
‘Look at you all,’ he announced, and to their credit all fell to hush. He let them wonder for a moment at the hard tone of his voice, let them think perhaps they’d displeased him, and stroked his green beard as if in deep consideration. Then he let a fierce grin break through.
‘I remember our people from the days of old,’ he said. ‘And we do not look so different. Our ancestors would be proud – you are Sprites through and through!’
Cheer replaced worry, and his warriors raised their spears. Several expulsions of magic flew skywards, violet spirals that expanded as they went.
Yes , he thought, nodding at beaming faces. We are right to reclaim our place in the world. And they will never see us coming.
Control
‘Here,’ said Bel, reining his horse to a stop – a mare he’d bought from the fisherman the previous day. The man had been understandably shocked to learn that an army of shadow was about to come calling, and had willingly offloaded the horse in exchange for gold, which he would no doubt need to build a new life – unless by some miracle Losara left his house intact.
Querrus drew up alongside on Taritha. Ahead was Jeddies, close enough to see the brightly coloured buildings of the sprawling river town, with smoke rising from many chimneys.
‘I’d say that’s about a league,’ Querrus agreed.
Bel surveyed their surrounds. To the west the Nyul’ya bustled by, twinkling between two lines of trees, which only broke for a stone bridge. On all sides were open fields, the grass waxy and thick underfoot. To the south …it was hard to be sure. A darkness on the horizon?
‘Can you make that out?’ asked Bel, for mages could see further than most.
Querrus followed his squint. ‘It’s them,’ he said. ‘Probably be here by this time tomorrow.’
Bel turned to the east, hoping that the flashing armour of Kainordan troops had somehow appeared there since he’d checked minutes before. ‘Still no sign of ours?’
Querrus narrowed his eyes in the same direction. ‘Not yet,’ he muttered. ‘Although …’
‘What is it?’
‘Hard to say, but a smudge in the air – perhaps a swarm of Zyvanix?’
‘Hovering over the ground forces,’ said Bel. ‘Good. They are not too distant either.’
‘The shadow will arrive first,’ said Querrus.
‘So be it. Here I’ll stay. Losara will not sweep into Jeddies as easily as he wishes.’
Querrus had reservations, Bel knew, about what they were here to do – as should anyone, he supposed. He did not, however: if anything, he felt impatient, itching to swing a sword at those who came rolling so boldly across his land. He knew that fighting might not come tomorrow – tomorrow was about delay – but perhaps the day after that, or at least soon. In the meantime, the couple of cards he had up his sleeve made him feel empowered.
‘Blade Bel?’
Querrus had been speaking, but Bel hadn’t taken in the words.
‘Yes?’
‘I asked if there was anything in particular I should get from town?’
Bel shrugged. ‘I see no reason not to pass the time comfortably. Feel free to get some fine food for a picnic.’
Querrus grinned. ‘Best orders I’ve had in a while. You will remain here?’
‘Yes,’ said Bel. ‘I’m not in the mood for being stared at by townsfolk. I’m in the mood for being stared at by enemies.’
Querrus rode away towards Jeddies, and Bel dismounted. He didn’t know if the fisherman had named the horse, and certainly he hadn’t done so either. He did not think he’d bother with such sentiment. The beast would probably wander now, and although Bel could tie her to one of the lone trees that stood here and there, he didn’t see the point. The old thing wasn’t the fastest steed, and for the moment he had no need of her, since he intended to wait right here. Thus he left her to graze, free if she was smart enough to grasp such a concept.
‘So,’ he said to himself.
There was really nothing much to do. He took out his sword and gave a swipe. Maybe the approaching shadow army would send scouts or a vanguard this way, and he would soon have some skulls to bounce together.
Wishful thinking.
He tossed the sword high in the air, watched it spin upwards then scythe back to earth, and turned his hip to catch it neatly in its scabbard. Wishful thinking? Was that wrong, to wish for battle?
I don’t care. It’s what I was born for. If I enjoy it, so what? Better than railing against one’s fate.
He wondered how Losara felt about it. If his counterpart filled the gaps in him, and vice versa, then Losara would not share Bel’s excitement at the prospect of battle.
Mindless , thought Bel. Automatic, he must be. Brainwashed. And yet he has the gumption to accuse me of fighting for the wrong reasons, just because I did not fancy a crystal tree or two.
Did he hate the man? How could he, when Losara was a part of him? If their souls combined, would that mean he’d hate himself? No, he decided, he did not hate Losara. The man was too slight, too fey for hate. But that did not change the fact that Bel would enjoy defeating him.
He drew his sword again and stuck it in the ground, then sank down cross-legged beside it. He did not like being alone with his peculiar and troubling thoughts. ‘Arkus speed you, shadow,’ he muttered. ‘Deliver me from boredom.’
He checked inside his pack for the sundart statue, which cheeped softly as he moved it. Relieved at the distraction, he pulled it out and touched a finger to the scroll at its leg. Steam hissed out of its beak.
‘Bel,’ came Fahren’s voice from the air. There was a pause, as if that was all, and Bel wondered for a moment if the message had been lost somehow. Then Fahren continued.
‘I have spoken with Arkus. There is an idea about how to deal with the shadowmander, but …well, let me investigate further. I am not sure how to accomplish it, or even if it’s possible.’ The man sounded decidedly disquited. ‘In the meantime I thought you should know that our suspicions were correct – the creature is indeed created from legacy magic. That was why Losara took Holdwith, to force our mages to aid him in its building. How he did it I’m not sure, and I don’t really want to know either …in fact, I’ll be quite happy if he takes his unnatural methods to the grave …ah, well, you know what I mean.’
Bel did not think he had ever heard Fahren sound so frayed. Was it really so affecting, to discover that a great and terrible Shadowdreamer would do such great and terrible things? Or was it the solution that unsettled him?