Destiny's Rift (Broken Well Trilogy) by Sam Bowring Read Free Book Online

sent them away, but they would never have obeyed, for they were sworn to protect the Dreamer.
    Battu will just wake them up when he arrives , he thought. Order them against me, I’ll have to kill them anyway. But not a choice of my making . Forcing himself to concentrate on the matter at hand, he stood before the throne Refectu, feeling it out with his mind. There were many fine, shadowy strands connected to it, one for each of the carved creatures that moved slowly about its surface, echoing a life lived somewhere out under the Cloud. These strands ran into a larger flow behind the throne, while another channel coursed along the floor between his legs. This one led to Battu, whom he could sense entering the room behind him. As much as he probed and sent blanketing wraps of his own power over this connective flow, he could do nothing to disrupt it. He tensed, waiting for Battu’s attack.
    ‘You don’t know how to sever the connection,’ the dark lord said, ‘do you?’
    Losara turned. Battu stood waiting, fully healed, but still with those tired circles under his eyes. They slid to the sleeping guards.
    ‘No,’ said Losara. ‘I can’t seem to affect it at all.’
    ‘Look at the paltry job you’ve done on the guards,’ said Battu. ‘Do you not expect me to rouse them?’
    ‘I had hoped to leave them out of it, they cannot sway things either way.’
    ‘Maybe,’ said Battu, rubbing his arm. ‘Things were just swayed by another subject whom I long considered loyal. And if I cannot trust him . . .’ He gestured at the guards, and they convulsed in their sleep as internal organs burst.
    How pointlessly destructive , thought Losara.
    ‘Tyrellan did not know enough when he sent you on this fool’s errand,’ said Battu. ‘He understood the throne is the source of my connection to the castle, but beyond that, he’s as ignorant as you are. Again, your arrogance works against you. You think this should be easy.’
    ‘No,’ said Losara. ‘I simply seek to discover a way of doing what must be done.’
    He could see his choice of words irked Battu. Why did the man hold onto his power so selfishly? It wasn’t as if ruling Fenvarrow came without enormous responsibility. If Losara had any choice in the matter, he would not have sought the role. Yet Battu wanted it – and for reasons with which Losara could not empathise.
    ‘It is simple enough,’ said Battu. ‘You have the same task here as you did below. Proximity to the throne means nothing. It is me you must defeat.’
    Battu beckoned at the long window, and a great wind surged through. Losara was blasted from his feet and flung towards a wall, though he fell to shadow before impact, like a dandelion torn apart by the breeze. Battu stalked past him up to the dais, where he rammed himself down on the throne.
    Losara re-formed, finally annoyed. Is that the best you can muster? he chastised himself. Annoyance? He had only been half-committed to fighting Battu, he realised, for a part of him clung to the hope that he might be able to make his old master see reason. Bel would never suffer such ambivalence in a fight , he thought. He would commit, and with commitment comes focus and purpose. The time for mildness, Losara decided, had been over for some while.
    Tapping deeply into the reserves of his power, he sent forth an intensely crackling stream, strong enough to turn flesh to mulch in seconds. Battu slammed his hands down on the throne, and from it a coating of black stone flowed up his arms, covering his body like a second skin. The energy slammed against him and Battu laughed like a living obsidian statue. Losara added a second stream around the first with his other hand, a pulsing double helix that concentrated into a blue vortex over the dark lord’s heart.
    ‘Burn away all the power you like,’ said Battu. He removed a hand from Refectu’s armrest, revealing the carved face of a Graka. Mist swirled out of it to take on the form of the creature, which