The stormcaller

Morghien ignored Isak's scepticism. 'She is, I think, scared to tell me how. She said that Siulents is like a giant beacon, shining out through the Land when she sleeps, but that your dreams are guarded too well to let her enter them. She hopes that by telling you this, you would perhaps open yourself up to her.'

Til need more reason than that. Continue.'

'She's Yeetatchen, I think, though I have never been there: her skin is as brown as a hazelnut. Xeliath is young, perhaps as little as fifteen

winters.'

'What does she want with me?'

'I believe she wants only to help you. She persuaded me that 1

should too.'

'How? What help do you think I need?' Finally Isak lowered his sword, satisfied that the man neither could nor would do anything to harm him. Isak looked a little deeper into Morghien, feeling an unusual mix of power within the man. His strength was curious, unlike anything Isak had seen before, but it was not great enough to concern

him.

'Preparation for troubles ahead, Xeliath said.' At Isak's expression Morghien raised a hand and continued hurriedly, 'She has not told me everything, and though 1 think I understand what she meant, telling you might make matters worse.'

'Worse? I've still half a mind to kill you so what will be worse than

that?'

'You having less than half a mind,' replied Morghien simply.

Isak opened his mouth to respond and then saw the stranger s ex- pression. He was being deadly serious, even if he was as insane as he sounded. The white-eye looked back to the rest of his party, then walked over to the moss-draped form of a fallen tree, indicating that Morghien should follow. He straddled the trunk and sat down, facing

his companions so Morghien had to sit with his back to them. He pulled off the silken hood and ran a gauntleted hand over his cropped

scalp. The cool whisper of silver on skin sounded like the breathing of wind through the trees.

'You want to help me, and you want me to trust you, without knowing what's going on?'

'It is a matter of destiny, and a man learns his fate at his own risk.' Morghien shrugged.

'Damn my fate,' Isak snapped back, 'I don't believe the future is

fixed-'

'And it is not,' interrupted Morghien firmly. 'Which is why you cannot know what I mean. Xeliath is some sort of prophet or oracle, but it doesn't take a prophet to know that a white-eye isn't going to follow his fate willingly. Whether knowingly or not, you'll fight against any outside forces in your life; it is what you are. But you can perhaps be prepared for what is to come.'

Isak hardly noticed that he had bitten his lip. 'What do you propose?'

'Xeliath thinks herself your guardian spirit. She told me, "His armour may keep his body alive, but I must watch over his soul." It is clear that the threats to you are greater than you know.'

'I have enough enemies, I think,' said Isak bitterly.

Morghien ignored him and continued, 'Xeliath has seen your death in the future and hopes to avoid it. To that end, she has asked me to help.'

'What can you teach me?' Isak snorted at the idea. 'You don't look much of a swordsman to me.'

Indeed I am not. But your death is one of the mind, not the body. If you are to be attacked in the mind, then perhaps I can be of use.'

'Why you?'

Because, as your man back there will tell you, I am possessed.'

A cough of laughter escaped Isak's lips, but it died soon as he saw nothing but the truth in the man's face. 'You're serious?'

‘Completely serious. I'm not inhabited by a daemon, and the pos-ssion was voluntary, but yes. Remember what your man called me?'

‘The man of spirits? Something like that?' Isak fought the urge to stand up and step back from this madman. His hand tightened for a moment around the hilt of his sheathed sword.

Morghien caught the movement and a smile of understanding crossed his lips. 'The man of many spirits. Perhaps now is not the time, for my story is a long one, but the short answer is that I took pity on a local Aspect of Vasle. Her stream was going to be dammed, and when the water stopped flowing she would have faded to just a voice on the wind. 1 offered what I had out of compassion. When the last of the water stopped flowing, she entered my soul. The others – well, they were similar stories. I have a generous heart.' 'Mihn looked like he thought you were dangerous.' 'Me? No, not I, but one of those within is a Finntrail, that's true enough.'

'And that is?'

Morghien smiled uncertainly. Obviously his choices in life had made him an outcast. Trusting his secrets to strangers was not a comfortable thing to do. Isak could sympathise there.

'I- Ah, well, the Finntrail are a sort of ghost, 1 suppose. Not the ghost of a human, but something older. I don't know exactly what they are, for they cannot remember. What could have happened to Seliasei did, I suspect, happen to the Finntrail. They are only shadows of whatever they used to be, but to retain even that much means they must have been very powerful.'

'And they are dangerous?'

Morghien looked thoughtful for a moment, searching for the right word. 'They are angry, perhaps that's the best description. As long as they are capable of anger they exist as more than just a faint echo; it sustains them, whatever else it does. But, they are all subservient to me; even the Finntrail has accepted my dominance. The sensation of being alive again more than makes up for that.'

'So what do you propose? I'm not sure I want to know how you can help me with some vicious little shade running around in your head.’

'Call it a new experience. Trust me, it will hurt me more than you – there's no doubt of that. I don't pretend to be able to read those runes on your armour, but Seliasei fears them. All I ask of you is that you hold back as much as you can – and perhaps put your sword out of immediate reach.'

Isak stared at him for a moment, suspicious again, but then he closed his eyes and opened his senses to the world. An awareness of the Land about him began to filter slowly into his mind and a spreading numbness flooded through his body, a cool breath of fresh damp leaves and moist earth. In only a few seconds he began to feel the gentle shape of

the ground about him, the faint pinpricks of life from his companions, the curious medley of souls about Morghien that justified the strange name Mihn called him.

Isak smiled to himself as he experienced the peace of opening himself to the Land. From the comforting immovability of the earth beneath his feet to the vibrant swirl of air high above; all this took him away from the pulse of anger buried under his skin, however briefly.

'I'll trust you.' He forced his eyelids open to disperse the dreamy contentment in his head. Drawing Eolis, he threw the weapon overarm and embedded it in a nearby elm. The silver blade drove a foot deep into the trunk and sat quivering, emitting a low hum. Even in the dull light of a cloudy morning, Eolis sparkled as if dusted in morning frost.

Satisfied that the blade was out of reach, Morghien took a moment to calm himself. Isak felt a pulse of something, maybe the Aspect's concern at what was to come. Even a weak spirit would be aware of what it could lose.

'I'm no scholar,' Morghien began, 'and I don't pretend to understand much of spirits or daemons, for all that a friend in Narkang has tried to explain matters to me, but I can feel from the spirit's point of view. The first thing you must learn, Lord Isak, is that they are not as powerful as people believe them to be.'

Isak's focus returned somewhat at Morghien's respectful use of his title. The man had felt just how strong he was; the mocking smile was gone and Morghien now looked like Kerin did on the training field. Isak reminded himself what that meant: just because he could kill Morghien with little effort said nothing about what he could learn from the man.