speed.
He could float, but that would make progress too slow for escape. Instead he saw what he needed almost immediately and reached out with his power. From the Graka patrol that wheeled below, one member cried out in surprise as it was ripped from formation. Battu crashed onto its back, the Graka dropping sharply under his bulk.
‘Fly,’ shouted Battu, grabbing the hapless creature by the shoulders.
The Graka struggled to find purchase in the air, its wings spreading to do little more than angle the trajectory of their fall. Battu gave them a nudge of power, snapping them out further and making the Graka shriek – but they caught the air and began to glide, though still towards the ground.
‘Please,’ whimpered the Graka. ‘Who is that?’
‘It’s lord Battu, you creaking pile of rubble.’
‘Master, you’re breaking my wings!’
‘Better than my neck.’
Underneath, Mankow flashed by, growing steadily closer, but they cleared it several hundred paces up and then were out over the Ragga Plains. Half a league past the capital, the ground finally came rushing up to meet them, and Battu tensed, waiting for the right moment. Seconds before they hit the ground, he leaped from the Graka, the force of his feet jolting the creature down the last short distance to smash and scatter to stony segments. Battu floated the last few paces and skidded to a halt on the slippery blue grass of the plains.
He dared not tarry. Losara would be coming for him, no doubt about that . . . and unlike Losara, Battu could not travel wholly in shadowform without leaving his body behind. He had to move quickly, body and all, and if there was one thing all his years of scrying and spying had taught him, it was how best to avoid detection.
On magically aided heels, Battu fled north.
•
Worried , Losara thought as he descended. I am worried. Other folk, if faced with the potential death of their lover, might be panicked, frenetic, unreasonable. Yet all I am is worried.
Well , he supposed, at least that’s something.
He arrived at his quarters and worry disappeared. Lalenda was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to concentrate on a book but clearly failing to do so. She kept twitching and glancing at the door.
‘Grimra be sure Losara all right,’ said the ghost.
‘What if they’re fighting?’ said Lalenda.
‘Then we be of no help to him, flutterbug.’
‘He’d better at least remember the details to tell me,’ she said angrily. ‘You know how vague he can be. I will want to know the exact expression on Battu’s face as he dies!’
As Losara formed into flesh, Lalenda gave an exclamation of joy and ran to him, throwing her arms about his waist and burying her head against his chest. ‘Fierce creature,’ he said, smiling as he stroked her hair.
‘Are you all right, my lord?’
‘Yes,’ said Losara. ‘It was you I worried for. Battu has done a terrible thing. I cannot stay, but wished to make sure you were both alive. For my peace of mind, you understand.’
Not the right words? he wondered.
‘Is Battu dead?’ she asked eagerly.
‘No,’ said Losara, ‘but he’s defeated. Now I must see what damage has been done, and catch Battu if I can.’
She stumbled as he disappeared from her embrace.
‘I hate it when he does that,’ she muttered, and Grimra chuckled.
Losara continued downwards. The purging had travelled about halfway up the castle, come very close to his quarters, in fact. In a laundry on the level directly below, he found several Greys slumped face down in vats of water, an occasional bubble breaking the surface. In the corridor outside, an entire patrol of Blacks were sprawled in a heap. Further on, two Arabodedas lay crumpled against a wall, one’s neck broken by the fall, probably after he was already dead. How many more? Losara wondered sadly. Hundreds, at least.
Battu , came an insistent thought.
He sped from the castle and circled its base, glad to discover those who’d
He could float, but that would make progress too slow for escape. Instead he saw what he needed almost immediately and reached out with his power. From the Graka patrol that wheeled below, one member cried out in surprise as it was ripped from formation. Battu crashed onto its back, the Graka dropping sharply under his bulk.
‘Fly,’ shouted Battu, grabbing the hapless creature by the shoulders.
The Graka struggled to find purchase in the air, its wings spreading to do little more than angle the trajectory of their fall. Battu gave them a nudge of power, snapping them out further and making the Graka shriek – but they caught the air and began to glide, though still towards the ground.
‘Please,’ whimpered the Graka. ‘Who is that?’
‘It’s lord Battu, you creaking pile of rubble.’
‘Master, you’re breaking my wings!’
‘Better than my neck.’
Underneath, Mankow flashed by, growing steadily closer, but they cleared it several hundred paces up and then were out over the Ragga Plains. Half a league past the capital, the ground finally came rushing up to meet them, and Battu tensed, waiting for the right moment. Seconds before they hit the ground, he leaped from the Graka, the force of his feet jolting the creature down the last short distance to smash and scatter to stony segments. Battu floated the last few paces and skidded to a halt on the slippery blue grass of the plains.
He dared not tarry. Losara would be coming for him, no doubt about that . . . and unlike Losara, Battu could not travel wholly in shadowform without leaving his body behind. He had to move quickly, body and all, and if there was one thing all his years of scrying and spying had taught him, it was how best to avoid detection.
On magically aided heels, Battu fled north.
•
Worried , Losara thought as he descended. I am worried. Other folk, if faced with the potential death of their lover, might be panicked, frenetic, unreasonable. Yet all I am is worried.
Well , he supposed, at least that’s something.
He arrived at his quarters and worry disappeared. Lalenda was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to concentrate on a book but clearly failing to do so. She kept twitching and glancing at the door.
‘Grimra be sure Losara all right,’ said the ghost.
‘What if they’re fighting?’ said Lalenda.
‘Then we be of no help to him, flutterbug.’
‘He’d better at least remember the details to tell me,’ she said angrily. ‘You know how vague he can be. I will want to know the exact expression on Battu’s face as he dies!’
As Losara formed into flesh, Lalenda gave an exclamation of joy and ran to him, throwing her arms about his waist and burying her head against his chest. ‘Fierce creature,’ he said, smiling as he stroked her hair.
‘Are you all right, my lord?’
‘Yes,’ said Losara. ‘It was you I worried for. Battu has done a terrible thing. I cannot stay, but wished to make sure you were both alive. For my peace of mind, you understand.’
Not the right words? he wondered.
‘Is Battu dead?’ she asked eagerly.
‘No,’ said Losara, ‘but he’s defeated. Now I must see what damage has been done, and catch Battu if I can.’
She stumbled as he disappeared from her embrace.
‘I hate it when he does that,’ she muttered, and Grimra chuckled.
Losara continued downwards. The purging had travelled about halfway up the castle, come very close to his quarters, in fact. In a laundry on the level directly below, he found several Greys slumped face down in vats of water, an occasional bubble breaking the surface. In the corridor outside, an entire patrol of Blacks were sprawled in a heap. Further on, two Arabodedas lay crumpled against a wall, one’s neck broken by the fall, probably after he was already dead. How many more? Losara wondered sadly. Hundreds, at least.
Battu , came an insistent thought.
He sped from the castle and circled its base, glad to discover those who’d
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