Sam Bowring - Soul's Reckoning

‘No,’ said Fahren. ‘Perhaps you will draw comfort from knowing that I think it’s much too hot.’

Battu grunted, and slumped down on a rock by the side of the stair. He pulled off a boot with some difficulty, for sweat made it stick to his skin, and knocked out a pebble. Usually the man preferred to be barefoot, but Fahren had warned him not to come so here, where the ground could cook you from the feet up.

‘Come, Battu. We have almost reached the bridge.’

Slowly, begrudgingly, Battu slid his boot back on.

A little further up they came to a small plateau on the side of the mountain where the stair ended. At its edge the next mountainside loomed past but a stone’s throw away, though between was a drop of almost half a league. Overlooking the valley stood a pair of posts, from which rope was tied back to stakes in the ground – all of which proved, on closer inspection, to be carved from stone. It looked like the way onto a bridge, yet no bridge hung over the empty space.

‘This is it?’ said Battu, a touch of condemnation in his voice.

‘It is. Not what you expected?’

‘It’s a little on the modest side. But I suppose that is my own prejudice – I always expect the light to be garish, colourful …vulgar. To find the gateway to Arkus looking like this …well …’ He scowled. ‘It puts me in mind of my own throne room. Nothing fancy, just what’s needed.’

‘Do not fear,’ said Fahren. ‘When the bridge appears, nothing extra is needed to awe.’

Battu’s scowl deepened.

Afternoon began to relinquish its grasp, the harshness in the air losing its edge. Fahren was uneasy, for there was nothing to do but hunker down and wait for night to pass in each other’s company. He wondered if Arkus would be angry with him for bringing Battu to his doorstep – but then it was the god himself who had ordered a plan involving the use of a shadow mage. And here, of all places, Battu would surely not attempt anything nefarious. Maybe it was not Battu who worried him most greatly; maybe it was wondering if, at sunrise the next morning, Arkus would hear him at all.

‘So,’ said Battu, ‘we wait?’

‘Yes.’

Each of them had a small pack, the bulk of their supplies having been left at the base of the stair with the horses. Some food and a bedroll was all that Fahren had brought, so it was not long before he was set up for the night. The roll was neither large nor plush, and did little to disguise the hardness of the stone beneath. Sitting on his own roll, Battu wasted no time in removing his boots, and setting them aside. They steamed faintly.

‘Are you going to insist upon a fire?’ he asked, eyeing the darkening sky.

‘No,’ said Fahren. There was nothing to cook, no wood, and certainly no need for extra warmth. Light was the only thing, and Fahren could deal with that easily enough. He waved a hand and conjured a small orb – nothing too bright, for he found himself inexplicably considering Battu’s comfort – and placed it in a crevice of the cliff face not far away. Meanwhile Battu fished around in his pack for dried meat and fruit, which he began to chew on loudly. Supposing there was not much else to do, Fahren lowered himself onto crossed legs and started to eat also. Battu, busily working a shred of something from his tooth with a jagged nail, considered him with amusement in his eye.

‘What cause for mirth?’ said Fahren stiffly.

Battu smacked his lips. ‘Look at us,’ he said. ‘Two old enemies, once thought the greatest mages in the land, sitting together upon a bare mountain, sharing hard food at the edge of the world.’

Strangely, Fahren felt a touch of kindredness. For all their differences, they’d both had business in shaping the flow of history to this point. ‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘I suppose neither of us ever guessed this moment would lie in our future.’

‘If we had,’ said Battu, ‘perhaps we would not be here.’

The sun was gone, on the way to wherever it went. Somewhere came the cry of a bird, though whether it was setting out for the night or returning home to roost, Fahren wasn’t sure. Perhaps if Battu hadn’t been here he would have let his mind wander and find out, but as it was he preferred to remain contained.

‘Well,’ said Battu, ‘I’m tired. Unless I am needed for anything …’

‘No. There is nothing to do save wait for the dawn.’

Fahren found he was tired too – their journey here had been swift, their climb up the stair long, and both conspired to make his bones ache. He finished the plum he’d been eating and tossed the pip over the edge. A waste, perhaps, for if it did not crack from the fall, no tree would ever sprout from the barren rocks, the hot sands.

Can’t worry about every last little thing.

He lay down to stare up at a sky full of stars. The moon was bright, and he mentally snuffed out his glowing orb. He could already feel the unyielding ground taking its toll on his old joints.

He sensed Battu working magic and was instantly wary. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Just encouraging some shadows from the cracks,’ said Battu. ‘To make for a softer reclining.’ Around Battu’s bedroll, shadows spilled from the stone and wound together to create a kind of dark mattress, raising him slightly. ‘Do you object? I could do the same for you, if you wish.’

Fahren tensed as, beneath him, velvet darkness issued up. It was giving but alien, like lying atop the sea without breaking the surface. Although he felt it was wrong to accept shadow magic, especially here of all places, he had to admit it was a vast improvement.

‘What do you think, oh Throne?’ said Battu. ‘Since I’m at your beck and call, you may as well benefit from my talents. A comfortable night will serve us both well.’

‘A comfortable night in the caress of the shadow?’ said Fahren. ‘Remember who you are talking to.’

Battu’s teeth gleamed in the moonlight. ‘Of course I understand if you must inflexibly adhere to the ways of your folk,’ he said. ‘But if I can cope with the sun blazing upon my pallid brow, perhaps you can see your way to enduring a good night’s sleep.’

Odd to feel that such an offer was a test of character, thought Fahren. Perhaps he was being too precious. He let himself relax upon the shifting shadows, felt them mould to the contours of his body. It was hard to refuse them.

‘Good night, Battu,’ he said.

The dark mage chuckled.

Soon Fahren was listening to the man’s snores, lent extra volume by the way they bounced off the sheer slopes around them.

No , he thought, settling back into his bed of shadows on Arkus’s doorstep. Not a future I would have foreseen.

•

Fahren awoke to a lightening sky and sat up, worried. A quick glance towards the Twin Sceptres brought relief that he had not overslept, for the sun had not yet poked its head out from beyond the horizon. As he took in his dark resting place, he felt a touch of guilt. Quickly he rose, and with a wave dispersed the shadows that had made his bed. The move brought Battu jolting awake.

‘Gracious indeed, oh Throne,’ he grumbled. ‘A rude awakening in repayment for fitless slumber.’

‘Rouse yourself,’ snapped Fahren. ‘Sunrise comes.’

‘Ah.’ Battu’s eyes shifted uneasily to the bridge. ‘Yes.’

Fahren led the way towards it, arriving to stand between the two stone posts. Before him the valley lay immense, red stone and sand dull before dawn. At the bottom of the V between the Twin Sceptres he could just make out a smudge of ocean. Even as he watched, the water took on a brighter sheen, as the very first rays of light began to appear.

‘Do you think Arkus will be offended,’ said Battu, ‘if I wear my hood?’