The Crippled God

Freedom, nodding.
    But Aloft shook his head. ‘In truth, this has the feel of a grand strategy, and just as your instincts speak with vehemence to you about the matter of the smaller force, Sister Freedom, so now my instincts have been shouting that this invasion – this strategy and each and every tactical engagement – is in fact the product of a single individual’s will.’ He nodded to Brother Grave. ‘I accept your assessment of humans, in general. But is it not also true that, on rare occasions, there rises from the multitude of mediocrity that is humanity a single person of extraordinary vision conjoined with the will to achieve that vision, who presents a most formidable presence. One to shape the course of history.’
    Brother Grave grunted. ‘Charismatic tyrants, you mean. Indeed, they do appear from time to time, burning bright and deadly and expunged just as quickly. Such individuals, among humans, are inevitably self-corrupting, and for all that they may shape history, that shaping is more often than not simply born out of that tyrant’s indulgence in destruction. Brother Aloft, you may well be right that we face such a person behind all of this. But does it matter in the end? And is it not that unbridled ambition that assures the fool’s demise? I would venture, with considerable amusement, that we now represent that fatal overreaching on that tyrant’s part.’ He faced Sister Freedom. ‘Have you not confirmed that the northern threat is too far away? This grand execution of coordinated invasions has failed, in fact.’
    ‘It may be as you say,’ acknowledged Brother Aloft. ‘But what if our eyes deceive us? What if what we are seeing is in fact precisely what our opponent wants us to see?’
    ‘Now you are too generous by far,’ Sister Freedom admonished him. ‘This is a breakdown in timing, perhaps precipitated by our detecting this western threat almost the instant it stepped out from the Glass Desert, and already being in perfect position to strike them with little delay.’
    ‘I accept the wisdom of your words, Sister.’
    ‘I will not castigate you, Brother, for listening to your instincts.Although, as we all know, if left unrestrained instincts have a way of encouraging panic – as they lie beyond the control of the intellect to begin with, theirs is the shorter path to fear.’
    The three Forkrul Assail were silent then, each preoccupied with their own thoughts.
    And then Sister Freedom said, ‘I shall seek to enslave the soldiers we face. They could prove useful.’
    ‘But not the hundred I hunt,’ said Brother Grave.
    ‘No,’ she agreed. ‘Kill them all, Brother.’
    Ben Adaephon Delat reined in hard, his horse’s hoofs skidding through the parched grasses.
    Cursing, Kalam wheeled his mount round, the beast pitching beneath him in its exhaustion. He glared back his friend. ‘What is it now, Quick?’
    But the wizard held up a hand, shaking his head.
    Settling back to ease his aching spine, Kalam looked round, seeing nothing but empty, rolling land. The taint of green from the jade slashes overhead made the world look sickly, but already he was growing used to that.
    ‘Never mind the Adjunct,’ Quick Ben said.
    Kalam shot him a startled look. ‘What? Her brother—’
    ‘I know – you think this was easy? I felt them pulling apart. I’ve been thinking about that all morning. I know why Ganoes wants us to find her – I know why he sent us ahead. But it’s no good, Kalam. I’m sorry. It’s no good.’
    The assassin stared at his friend for a moment longer, and then he sagged, spat to clear the taste of ashes from his mouth. ‘She’s on her own, then.’
    ‘Aye. Her choice.’
    ‘No – don’t even try that, Quick. This is your choice!’
    ‘She’s forced my hand, damn you!’
    ‘How? What has she done? What’s all this about pulling apart? What in Hood’s name does that even mean?’
    Quick Ben’s horse must have picked up some of its rider’s agitation, for it now shied beneath him and he fought to regain control for a moment. As the animal backed in a half-circle, the wizard swore under his breath. ‘Listen. It’s not with her any more. She’s made herself the sacrifice – how do you think I can even know this? Kalam, she’s given up her sword .’
    Kalam stared. ‘What?’
    ‘But I can feel it – that weapon. It’s the blank place in my vision. That’s where we have to go.’
    ‘So she dies, does she? Just like that?’
    Quick Ben