Soul's Reckoning (Broken Well Trilogy) (14 page)

And so we watched each other across the gulf, like a scaled-down version of what had been going on for centuries, our new border worn clear in the grass. In retrospect it seems something akin to looking in the mirror – but is that mole on the right side of your face, or the left? Is the shadowmander a hindrance, or a help? I suppose it depends on where you stand, and whether you are what’s real, or what’s reflected.

At any rate, there we sat – one who could see the path, the other left to navigate as best he could, alone in the dark, on those sunny days.

As she stepped through the inn doors, Elessa was relieved to be out of the sun. Although she did not feel its touch, she imagined it drying the flesh that still clung to her, hastening her towards desiccation. How soon until she became like Fazel, as she remembered him? She had thought of him often during these days of fast travelling across Kainordas. Long had he lived in this same suspended state, almost a hundred years without pleasure or comfort. Pain there was still, she had come to understand, but only in her bones, where she herself resided underneath her old flesh, no longer really a part of it. How had he coped? He had not been given any choice, she knew, but the thought of being trapped so long surpassed all previous notions of dread. Fahren had promised to release her as soon as he could, but his words did little to relieve her.

It was not that she did not try to be strong. In the days following her resurrection, traces of her old self had bobbed to the surface. She had been an Overseer, charged with finding the right and wrong of things. That sense was muddied now, for while objectively she knew Fahren was doing what he must, necromancy was outlawed for good reason and her own personal dismay was proof of why. To be ripped from such peace, attenuated into this form .
 
.
 
. and yet she reminded herself that if the light failed, there would be no Great Well for her to return to. For her own sake, and the sake of countless others, she had to go on. Making up her mind to do so brought some respite, and she was now sometimes capable of not thinking about her own situation for a moment or two at a time.

Despite being glad to escape the sun, she felt uncomfortable here. Until now Fahren had avoided settlements, and Elessa was not sure if he hid her, Battu, or both, but she had not protested – she didn’t want to be seen. Yet he made this exception, bringing them to this little village because they had run out of supplies. Or rather, Fahren and Battu had, since she did not need to eat.

The inn was small, neat, and as conspicuously empty as the village, and indeed most of the land they had travelled through. Many had gone to join the army, it seemed. The innkeeper, behind the bar polishing a mug that didn’t need polishing, looked pleased to see them. Battu had cast an illusion on himself so that he appeared to be Varenkai, and Fahren had one that hid the Auriel and turned his robe the red and gold of a lightfist. The three lightfists who travelled with them remained as they really were, while she – well, she still looked normal, for now.

‘Gentlemen, ladies!’ said the innkeeper. ‘Welcome to my humble inn. Travelling to the battle, I suspect?’

‘Indeed,’ said Fahren. ‘Though we will break our journey here. Can you sleep six?’

‘At a room apiece,’ said the innkeeper. ‘Not much trade for the likes of me at the moment, as you might imagine. Was good for a bit there, but I think most of the folk journeying to join the great Blade Bel have been and gone. But even during such bare times, for the defenders of Kainordas, I will happily reduce my rate.’

‘Very generous, I’m sure,’ said Fahren blandly.

As he and the innkeeper settled down to working out the particulars, Elessa heard footsteps approaching from outside. A moment later the tavern door banged open, and with it came a voice she recognised with startling certainty .
 
.
 
.

‘All right, soldiers, I suggest you make the most of this – there’ll be no taverns at the front. Don’t overdo it, mind! We need to be sharp tomorrow.’

She couldn’t help but spin around, even as she tried to stop herself. Leading a band of soldiers, a cerepan now by the badge on his leather armour, was – Kessum! Remembered as a young noble her own age, here he was grown into a man! They had never kissed, never held hands, had only just started the very beginnings of courtship – and yet thoughts of him had kept her fighting in Whisperwood on the last night of her life. Out of the wreckage of her soul sprang a horror that he would see her like this. Everything in her screamed
hide
, and before she knew it she had cast an invisibility spell on herself. Too late, for Kessum stood stunned, his soldiers bumping into him as he came to an abrupt halt in the doorway, staring aghast at the place she had been.

‘Elessa?’ he murmured, his face ashen.

Elessa backed away, quaking.
Fahren?
she sent.

Fahren broke off his conversation with the innkeeper – whose eyes had lit up at the unexpected overflow of custom – and glanced between her and Kessum with growing realisation. The Throne could still sense her, as all the mages could, and Kessum noticed him looking at the space where she had just disappeared.

‘You, lightfist,’ he said. He came forward, his soldiers spilling into the room behind him. ‘Did you see a woman just now, standing right here?’

I don’t want him to see me
, she pleaded.

It’s all right, my girl
, came Fahren’s reply, though his worry was apparent.

‘Pardon?’ he said.

‘Don’t play games with me, mage,’ said Kessum. ‘I saw her, plain as day, right in this spot. Did no one else see?’

‘Are you all right, sir?’ joked one of the soldiers. ‘Seeing things that aren’t there .
 
.
 
. and we haven’t even started drinking yet!’

The others began to chortle, but ‘Silence!’ barked Kessum. From the surprised looks on their faces Elessa thought they must not often have seen him angry. That was how she remembered him too – calm and peaceful.

‘Er .
 
.
 
.’ said the innkeeper, and she could see him doing a mental count of the lightfists. Five, when they had asked for six rooms. ‘There was a –’

Fahren gave an almost imperceptible flick of his fingers, and the man descended instantly into a coughing fit. Kessum stalked forward, right towards her, and in panic she cast a dodge spell, blinking from where she stood into a dark corner of the room. It wasn’t her that Kessum had been approaching, however; it was Fahren. Given the Throne’s current disguise, a cerepan was well within his rights to demand cooperation. Two of the lightfist guards, who knew Fahren’s real identity, stepped forward, but he waved them back.

‘What is going on?’ demanded Kessum. ‘Are you playing some mage trick?’

Clear his memory
, pleaded Elessa. She had never learned how to do so herself, but she knew it was an ability Fahren had.
Make it so he doesn’t know he saw me.

What of those with him? I cannot do them all at once.

‘Excuse me,’ interrupted Battu, ‘but I think I may know what’s caused this.’

‘What?’ said Kessum, rounding on him.

Battu fished in an illusionary pocket, and produced a small silver locket. As he held it out on his palm, black wisps escaped from its surface.

‘Shadow!’ exclaimed Kessum, his hand going to his sword.

‘Yes,’ said Battu. ‘We found this trinket on a shadow mage sneaking about north of here, no doubt on some nefarious errand. It’s a weapon of sorts, designed to give us folk of the light waking nightmares. I thought I had its influence contained but .
 
.
 
.’ he frowned at it, ‘maybe not.’ He held a hand over it, concentrating hard. ‘Ah, there – it wormed through my seals, insidious thing. But now it will bother you no more.’

Kessum looked as if he did not know what to believe – he was angry, confused, and Elessa saw that the sight of her, even after all this time, had affected him strongly. Had he not moved on? They had never truly been together, and many years had passed. Surely he did not feel the same as he once had done?

As Kessum stared at the ‘magical artefact’, Battu closed his fist and replaced it in his pocket. It was an unexpected thing to have him help her – she still could not think of the man as anything but evil.

Creative
, she heard Fahren send him.

‘I am trying to gauge more about how the device works,’ said Battu. ‘Maybe you could help me – what was it that you saw, precisely? Who was this girl, someone from your past?’

Kessum stared at him darkly for a moment. Then, ‘Mages,’ he growled derisively. ‘Come, comrades, let us do what we came here for – and move away from these before any more ghosts come haunting. And you,’ he pointed Battu square in the face, ‘keep that
thing
away from me.’

‘We will buy your first round,’ said Battu, ‘to amend for the upset.’

Kessum did not say another word, but led his soldiers away to the tables.

As Fahren turned back to the innkeeper, miraculously the man’s wheezing abated. ‘Now,’ said Fahren, ‘about those rooms.’

The man, somewhat pale, nodded quickly. ‘Did .
 
.
 
. how many did you want?’

‘The
original
number,’ said Fahren. ‘And not another word on that, understand?’

•

Elessa sat alone in her room, staring into the mirror. It seemed some sort of cruel joke to see how normal she looked, in stark contrast to how she felt. She longed to go to Kessum, could sense how close he was – and yet, separated by only a wooden door and a flight of stairs, she was a world apart. He produced in her such real emotion, it made her feel more like the young girl she had been than anything else had since her resurrection – and that, in turn, was wretched, because there was nothing she could do about it.

Getting closer to the mirror, she could finally make out subtle traces of decay. Her body produced no moisture and her dry eyes had begun to yellow. Miserably, she gave a wave of her hand and settled an illusion over herself, chasing away those dead eyes and replacing them with ones that shone brightly. She added a glow to her pallid cheeks, and removed small scratches from her skin. These days it was all too easy to damage herself without noticing, and no damage to anything but her bones would heal.

There – if she went to him now, he wouldn’t know she was undead. But would he think it odd she had not aged? She added more refinements to the illusion, giving herself a few lines on her face, a little sag in the elbows – it was tricky, guessing what she would have looked like in her middle years.

Suddenly angry that she’d allowed herself to come so far down this line of thought, she dropped the illusion entirely. It did not matter what she looked like! She would not feel his kiss on her lips, and he would find her cold and sour. Her body might even come apart in his hands.

Making herself invisible once more, Elessa slipped out of the room and went to the top of the stairs. She could see him down there, his soldiers drinking while he stared out through a window with an untouched ale. One of his troop gestured for him to join them in a game of cards, but he waved her away. Shrugging, the woman returned to her companions, who sent concerned glances towards their superior. Damn fate for delivering him here, and damn it again for letting him see her! How could he be so affected? Did he really still love her, after all this time? Or did he have a wife and children, and the sight of her had merely brought back difficult memories, stirring old hurts to the surface? She decided she did not want to know.

Tearing herself away, she marched on to Fahren’s room. Without bothering to knock, she opened the door and stormed inside, only just remembering to make herself visible. Fahren was sitting on the edge of his bed, smoking a brittleleaf roll.

‘Elessa,’ he said, ‘I was just coming to see you. I am so sorry for putting you through this.’

‘So sorry, so sorry,’ she echoed. ‘Always the same words, yet you won’t do anything about it. And now you bring me to this place so you can eat and sleep, while I can no neither and must sit in my room thinking of the man I could have loved.’

‘I know,’ he said, his face crinkling in sorrow. He went to the window and set his roll down on the sill. ‘I do not know what I can do, Elessa.’

‘Release me from this torment,’ she begged. ‘Let me return to the Well, gone from the world!’

‘Please, my girl –’ he said, but she cut him off.

‘Do not call me that. I am no longer a girl. I am not anything!’

‘You are our best hope for defeating the shadow,’ said Fahren. ‘You know how important that is.’

‘If you won’t,’ she said, ‘then let me end it myself.’

Tears fell from Fahren’s eyes. ‘I cannot. And I forbid you from doing so.’

She felt the command sink in – as the one who had raised her, his words were binding. She fell to her knees, wanting to sob, uncaring of what effect the fall would have on her flesh. She reached out to grasp the floor as great, soundless upheavals shook her. Fahren knelt beside her, put a hand on her shoulder.

‘You see?’ she said. ‘You seek to comfort with touch, but your actions have the opposite effect. You might as well prod a side of beef. Everything reminds me of what I am.’

Shamefacedly, he withdrew his hand.

‘It is not just me who asks this of you,’ he said. ‘It is the will of Arkus, your very god. Do you not wish to protect the Well?’

Elessa could not answer, her former resolve shattered. All she knew was what she wanted – she wanted Kessum, she wanted to be normal again, she wanted to be dead again .
 
.
 
. anything but this.

‘It’s only for a few more days,’ said Fahren. ‘I will release you as soon as it’s done, I promise. I’m so s .
 
.
 
. it’s unfortunate indeed that we encountered Kessum. You were not doing so badly for a bit there, were you? It will be better again once we’re away from here. He will never beat us to the battlefield, and you will have completed your task before he arrives there. You will remember again that what you do is good and worthwhile. You can get through this.’

She pulled herself up. She was not drained, as she once would have been from such a racking fit, for her strength was constant. Looking at Fahren, she vaguely recalled the way they had been once – she the student, he the kindly teacher. She tried to believe that he was right. Really, what choice did she have?