Fated

at was me. My body was standing right in front of me, my right hand clasped on the sphere. I looked down at my hand just to convince myself it was still there, looked up, and stared. ‘What the hell?’

I reached forward hesitantly. My hand passed through my body as though it was light, and I jumped. This was really weird.

I turned back to see Sonder’s lips moving. He was saying something to Luna, and now Luna turned aside slightly to reply, her eyes still fixed on my body, but I couldn’t hear their words. In fact, now I stopped to listen, I couldn’t hear anything at all. It was dead silent.

‘Good evening. Might I be of assistance?’

I only barely managed to keep myself from jumping as the voice spoke from behind me. Standing in the doorway was an old man. He had a flowing beard and long hair, both snow-white, with thin streaks of red running through them. His clothes were red as well: robes, gathered at the waist, of several shades from blood-red to crimson.

For a moment I couldn’t remember where I’d seen him before, then suddenly it clicked. I’d seen his face, but it had been stone, not flesh. ‘Abithriax,’ I said.

Abithriax bowed. ‘And whom do I have the honour of addressing?’

I stood staring at the mage in front of me. Abithriax stood looking back with an expression of mild inquiry. ‘How are you alive?’ I said at last. It wasn’t polite, but I was shaken.

Abithriax didn’t seem particularly offended. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘that’s rather an interesting question. Perhaps you’d like to walk with me? One gets so little exercise cooped up in here.’

I took a glance back at Luna and Sonder. They were talking to each other, although I still couldn’t hear them. They didn’t seem able to see Abithriax either. ‘You’ll be quite safe,’ Abithriax said, as though reading my thoughts. ‘No one is going to arrive for a little while.’

I hesitated a moment, then fell into step beside Abithriax and we began walking back down the corridor. Despite his age, he moved smoothly, with no trace of stiffness. ‘How am I talking to you?’ I said.

‘The crystals on these walls form a communication network that extends throughout this facility,’ Abithriax said. ‘Mental projection only, I’m afraid; your body is still back in that room. The network works with your mind to translate the information.’

‘If I’m here, where are you?’

‘At the centre, of course.’

I stared at Abithriax for a second before it clicked. ‘You’re the fateweaver.’

Abithriax just smiled. I kept walking, my head spinning as everything fell into place. Of course. Something as powerful as the fateweaver would have to be an imbued item. And the more powerful it was, the stronger its own identity would be … I looked up at Abithriax. ‘How? You were supposed to have died.’

‘Oh, I did.’ Abithriax looked inquiringly at me. ‘Perhaps you’d like to hear the story?’

I stared back at him and finally nodded.

‘Oh good. It really is so nice to have someone to talk to … Let’s see, where to begin? People still remember the Dark Wars, I hope? I’ve afraid I’ve rather lost track of time.’

‘You lived through them.’

Abithriax nodded. ‘From the beginning to the end. I remember Syriathis, and its destruction. I fought through the retreats in the early campaigns, seeing my friends and allies die one by one. I was promoted, and promoted again. After our victory at the Ebon Fields I was granted my fateweaver. Years passed, the tide turned, the strongholds lost in the early years were retaken, and I was at the fore-front of every battle. When the final sieges began, I was battle commander of all the Light armies.’

We’d come to a junction and Abithriax stopped. ‘And then I was betrayed.’ His eyes stared off into nothingness, distant. ‘The Council had become afraid of me. I was too famous, too powerful. So in the last months of the war, once victory was guaranteed, they sent me to my death.’

Abithriax fell silent. I stood looking at him. ‘How did you do it?’ I said at last.

Abithriax blinked, looked at me, then shook his head and turned left down the junction. I followed. ‘My fateweaver. All our generals carried one, but the craftsmen were never able to stabilise the design. They were always … unpredictable. But I learned the secret of investing myself into it, binding my identity into it a piece at a time, and as its power grew, so did mine. It was almost a part of me. Perhaps that was how I was able to make the final leap at the very end …’

Abithriax shook his head and suddenly his voice became brisk. ‘Well then. I assume that’s what you’re here for? My fateweaver? Oh, there’s no need to hide it,’ he added as I hesitated. ‘It’s not as if you’d come here for any other reason. Besides, it’s not as if I can carry it myself any more.’

‘Yes.’

‘And the others?’

‘Which others?’

Abithriax raised his eyebrows. ‘The other mages attempting to reach me. I may lack a physical body, but I’m not entirely blind. Half a dozen or so, I believe?’

I walked for a little while in silence. ‘Can you help me against them?’ I said at last.

Abithriax snorted. ‘A handful of mages? I’ve defeated armies. However … without a wielder, I am nothing. And more to the point, there is no guarantee my wielder will be you. If one of those mages reaches me first, I’m afraid my powers will be at their disposal, not yours. In this form, I am a servant to my wielder.’

Something made me look up at that, searching Abithriax’s face. He looked back at me calmly. ‘And I have no control over who that wielder is. So if you have any enemies within this facility, I would suggest you make sure they