Free Whitemantle by Robert Carter Page B

eyes were slitted against the glare. He threw up a hand against the golden light that haloed Will’s head. The shape of his fingers echoed Will’s own half-formed magical gesture, but there was a wounded quality about him that seemed too much like self-pity. He began slowly shaking his head. ‘Why should I believe a word you say?’
    ‘Because it’s the truth.’
    ‘Truth?’ Chlu spat out the word. ‘What? That you are the Deliverer, and I the Destroyer? Why should I choose to believe a truth like that, when it so clearly does not serve me?’
    ‘The truth is not there to serve you, Chlu. It simply is. ’
    Chlu rapped out his words mockingly. ‘Truth! You can put that name to anything you please!’
    ‘No! No, you can’t! Do you think you can just choose to believe whatever pleases you? You can’t do that! You have a duty to respect what is. It’s the nature of our world!’
    ‘I would rather believe what Lord Maskull tells me. Hehas shown me wonders. And he’s promised that as soon as I’ve rid our world of you I shall have my desire.’
    Will stared, incredulous. ‘Your… desire? ’
    Chlu’s gaze was unfaltering. ‘I am to join Lord Maskull in the future that he’s going to make. He’ll be the king and I the prince, and we’ll rule a whole world between us!’
    ‘Do you really believe that? Chlu, he’ll use you for his present purpose and afterwards discard you without a second thought.’
    ‘Oh, no, little brother. A new world is coming.’
    ‘But it’s not coming, is it? Because I’m here to prevent it.’
    ‘You have it in a nutshell.’ Chlu’s eyes became murderous and hard. ‘And that’s why you have to die!’
    ‘Listen to me!’ Again Will’s hands rose up in a spellmaker’s gesture and kept Chlu from taking another dangerous step forward. ‘You should know that Maskull was labouring at the very limit of his art when he made us. Something went wrong. Master Gwydion saw it all: a great, spinning ray, then a burst of violence that tore a tower to pieces. And that blast tasted of fae magic, a magic from the olden times that was once mighty but now is all lost, except in the stones of the lorc – and in you and me. ’
    ‘Gwydion is a deceiver. He lies to you.’
    ‘Why should he lie? Whatever separates us, Chlu, comes of the same power that fills the battlestones. Maskull tampered with that power so he could alter us. Can’t you feel it? The power that runs in the lorc – it’s the same magic that was used to change us. It binds our destinies to the stones, and to one another.’
    ‘Very neat. Only Lord Maskull tells quite a different story.’
    Will let his hand fall. ‘Of course he does.’
    ‘You were chosen by the deceiver as his favourite. It was Gwydion Crowmaster who stole us away and then hid usin two ready-prepared places. They were shrouded in magic, kept secret so that no one else could find us. And there, as the years went by, that meddler worked his spells upon our minds. He grew us like barnyard animals, all the while twisting us to his scheme. And when he found which child was the most compliant to his magic, that was the one he chose to further at the expense of the other.’
    ‘It wasn’t like that.’
    Chlu’s voice rose and he jumped from the Bier. ‘Oh, but it was. While I was sent to tend pigs among filthy villagers, you were taken to be schooled alongside the sons of a duke! But Lord Maskull found me and pulled me from my torment! He took me out of the prison village of Little Slaughter, withdrew me before the evil enchanter could shatter it and murder me! Lord Maskull rescued me! He set me free!’
    Will was aware that the bone demons had gathered once more, and were spitting and cackling. ‘You’ve got it the wrong way round. It was Maskull who broke Little Slaughter. Maskull found you, Chlu, on that we agree, but he removed you from Little Slaughter not to help you or to set you free. He doesn’t want to share overlordship of the future