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

own body convulsed as the power shot through it, for he was not immune. He raced to heal himself with one hand even as the other did the damage, staying one step ahead of burning himself away. The pain, as his flesh melted and re-healed, was excruciating. It was all he could do to stay focused on his task.
    Sharks began to sink, their bodies thrashing all the way to stillness as the water itself burbled and boiled. For some reason Losara’s ears began to hurt a great deal, and he opened his mouth to let out a cry. Instead of water rushing in, his lungs found air, as the water around him exploded to mist.
    Losara dropped to the floor, dripping and breathing hard. Healing himself at a rate faster than he could destroy himself had used up a great deal of strength, and his body felt like a shell of agony. As he stared at his hand resting on his knee, he realised he was missing a finger. It seemed the shark that had bitten him in shadowform had effected a lasting loss.
    Chirruk won’t be pleased , he thought, remembering the lobster-god who had crafted his shadow hands.
    The suspended moisture began to clear, revealing Battu with energy gathering at his fingers.
    ‘And on and on,’ Losara croaked.
    ‘And on and on,’ agreed Battu.
    Yet I cannot harm him while he’s on the throne , thought Losara. Then it occurred to him – not his body, anyway.
    He launched a sudden mental assault, forcing his way into the Shadowdreamer’s mind. The stone skin did not stop him – Battu had not thought of that when he’d opened a mental connection to speak to Losara – and Battu’s head snapped back.
    A contest of pure will might even things up , Losara sent him. No fancy trimmings, no colour and conjurings. Can you match me here, Battu?
    •
    Battu strained against Losara, the energy fading from his hands as he redirected his efforts. Locked in a mental struggle, he could spend no power on attacking with spells lest the boy rush in and obliterate his mind. Curse him for finding this chink in his armour, which Battu had been stupid enough to reveal! But he’d been so sure, he’d come so close to winning, if it hadn’t been for Tyrellan . . . curse Tyrellan, curse everyone . . .
    Curse you , he sent to Losara. I will dig up your mother and rape her corpse. I will make your father watch so it’s the last thing he sees before I gouge out his eyes and crush them under my heel.
    My old teacher , replied Losara, should remember that I never did very well in his lessons about intimidation – whether it was giving or receiving.
    Battu felt sick – the boy denied him even his hatred.
    Everything he had went into pushing back, yet still he could feel the steady, inevitable approach. How deep did the boy’s reserves go? Deeper than those Battu could draw from the castle? Skygrip was a bottomless well of power, but as its conduit, Battu could only channel so much at a time lest it rip him apart . . . and despite the swathes of power coursing through him, the boy was winning.
    He felt shreds of his mind flapping in the storm, old memories . . . for a moment he saw himself as a boy, in the filthy little village of Laz where he had grown up. There were the older boys, Gynt, Horon and Wattle, coming for him along the muck-streaked road. His bruises from the last encounter had not healed, but he did not run, for there was no point – they would get him in the end. They did not know that in a year or two Battu would discover his aptitude for magic, and would make them beg for their lives . . . and eventually their deaths.
    Why did they hate you so much? Losara’s words blew the memory away, tearing it to pieces. Did you never have a true friend?
    Stay out! roared Battu. He channelled more power from the castle than was safe, and felt his sinuses fizzing and his teeth rattling in his skull. Let me introduce you to my true friends.
    Sharks spewed forth, memories of sharks rising out of the depths towards Losara, snapping at prey long gone.