Destiny's Rift (Broken Well Trilogy) by Sam Bowring

Battu sensed the boy withdraw slightly in alarm. He pushed forward in that moment, breaching Losara’s mind, delving inside, looking for a way to do damage.
    A stray memory flashed past and he snatched it: a bearded man stared down at him, poking his belly and chortling. Battu recognised Corlas, and knew he was seeing some early moment from when Losara was just hours old.
    So , he said, you do know what it’s like to be whole, even if you don’t think you do. Deep down, your soul remembers that it’s injured, broken, a fact echoed in everything you do. Even if you go on for a thousand years, you will only ever lead half a life.
    He sensed Losara considering the words – and understood with certainty that he could not confuse or terrify his Apprentice. No, the most he could hope to do was make him consider . What was worse, it was not even the words Losara really dwelled on – to him they had been like saying that the sky was grey or the grass blue. The boy already knew that he was lacking, and he wasn’t perturbed by being told something he already knew, whatever the tone in which it was said. What he considered, then, was why Battu felt the need to taunt him, and what it said about Battu .
    Stop turning things around , he said. You, boy, are too stupid to even recognise an insult.
    Silently, resolutely, Losara forced him back. With dread, Battu knew it was too easily, too swiftly, that he was being pushed away. Losara was channelling too much power to control; it was like trying to grab hold of flowing water. Shadows spilled from Battu, billowing out randomly into the room, like the ink from an octopus. To his dismay, he saw that during his other exertions, he had failed to maintain his armour of viscous stone, which was now trickling back into the throne.
    In response, Losara raised a hand, energy collecting at his fingertips. Battu knew he could not fend off destructive spells on top of the mental assault. Hate was all he had left, but he could not win simply by hating. There was something, however, that hate did allow, and that might also give him time to escape.
    Fields of grass crossed his eyes, and the shining sun.
    What is this? came Losara’s voice. What are you seeing here?
    The boy was right on the cusp of Battu’s mind. He would be able to sense Battu’s despair, and also what Battu intended to do as his last punishing and vengeful act. The recoil this caused gave Battu the moment he needed. Slamming his hands down on the throne, he unleashed his final command as Shadowdreamer.
    ‘I order that Skygrip Castle be purged !’ he said, his voice echoing like an avalanche.
    •
    Down in Skygrip’s entrance cavern, under the archway that had once encased Grimra’s pendant, two Black Goblin captains spoke to each other while their squads waited uneasily beneath the watchful gaze of towering statues. Rumour had reached them that the Shadowdreamer was fighting his Apprentice, and the response needed was not clear.
    ‘It isn’t our place to interfere,’ muttered Denrum. ‘Everyone knows a magical fight is for mages. If we trespass upon it, we’ll be cooked in our skins, contributing nothing but a stink in the air.’
    Enrig, the older of the captains, glowered at the cowardice he saw on display. ‘Need I remind you,’ he said, ‘that we are sworn to protect the Shadowdreamer? We should utilise a porthole door immediately, get up there and help our master.’
    ‘Yes,’ hissed Denrum. ‘Sworn to protect the Shadowdreamer – but who that is may change in the next few moments, and our deaths will not alter the outcome. Besides, would it not be sacrilege to attack the blue-haired man?’
    ‘Perhaps,’ conceded Enrig, but he was still uneasy. He knew with certainty what his duty was, and without duty a soldier was nothing.
    Shadow erupted from the floor. A thick curl lashed at Denrum, who cried out in pain. In the main chamber, soldiers screamed as a black tide rose to consume them.
    ‘Back!’ Enrig