Free Soul's Reckoning (Broken Well Trilogy) by Sam Bowring Page B

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?
    ‘This explains,’ Fahren went on, ‘why the creature’s movement is so restricted. It is tied to the First Slave Tyrellan, built upon the original legacy cast on him by Elessa Lanclara. Therefore the mander can only travel a certain distance from the goblin.’
    That was interesting. Although Bel had guessed that the mander was somehow confined, he had imagined its limits were dictated somehow by Losara.
    ‘I shall inform you when I know more,’ said Fahren. The steam dispersed and that was that – none of the usual good-lucks or stay-safes that usually ended the Throne’s messages. Bel replaced the bird in his pack, wondering what had affected Fahren so.
    He tried to occupy himself by thinking about Jaya. If she’d been there with him, the time would certainly pass more swiftly. They could have walked down to the river, retired to the shade of a tree, made love and had an argument or three, in no particular order .   .   . and yet she was out of reach. He missed her for the first time since parting ways – perhaps he would have done so sooner, but there had been