They headed back to the beach.
Sword at the ready, Coilla was one of those flanking Dynahla. Turning to him, she said, “Fetches are very rare, aren’t they? Least they were on Maras-Dantia.”
“So I’m told.”
“They say that seeing a fetch in your likeness, the way Stryke just did, foretells your death.”
“And they say that you orcs can’t tolerate daylight.”
“Bullshit.”
“Precisely.”
No more was said until they reached the shore. As the last of the scouts started to return, Stryke asked some more questions.
“Are you of this world?”
“No.”
“How did you get here?”
“The same way you did.”
“You have stars?”
“Serapheim transported me, as he did my predecessor, Parnol.”
“Who?”
“Another acolyte. You knew him only in death. He was the messenger Serapheim sent to you in Ceragan.”
“The human with the knife in his back.”
“Yes. Jennesta was responsible for that.”
“No surprise there then,” Haskeer said.
Stryke’s hand went to his throat. “I’ve got his amulet.”
“Good,” Dynahla said. “That was enterprising of you.”
“But it’s no use. The stars don’t work properly.”
“You still have them?”
“Yes.”
“Have they had any… effect on you? You can be truthful. I know that they have affected you in the past, and Haskeer.” He looked at the sergeant. He returned a scowl.
“No,” Stryke replied. “I’ve felt nothing.”
“That’s good too. Hopefully you’ve become attuned to them.”
“What does that mean?”
“Each set of instrumentalities has its own signature, what some call its song. A being spending any amount of time in their presence either suffers or harmonises with them, as perhaps you are doing. Do you understand?”
“I think so.”
“But it’s not wise to be within their range of influence for too long, even if their effect seems to be benevolent.”
“Why not?”
“Because the instrumentalities embody an unimaginable power. A power that even the most adept of sorcerers do not fully comprehend.”
“I’m not surrendering them,” he insisted, sensing the way things were going.
“I’m not asking you to.”
“Anyway, as I said, they don’t work. Not the way they should. Do you know why?”
“Yeah,” Jup added, “and does Jennesta have anything to do with it?”
“What about this Gateway Corps?” Coilla pitched in. “Who are they? What do they want?”
“And where’s Thirzarr?” Stryke demanded.
Dynahla raised a hand to still the clamour. “These matters are best addressed by the proof I have to offer. Is this all your band, Stryke?”
He looked around. The last couple of stragglers were jogging their way. “Yes.”
“Then you’re about to have some answers. But don’t expect everything to be resolved immediately.”
“That doesn’t sound too promising,” Coilla remarked darkly.
“Trust me,” Dynahla said.
As they watched intently, hands on weapons, the fetch took a small silken pouch from his pocket and poured the contents into the palm of his hand. As far as they could see it was sand, identical to that on the beach. He threw it into the air. It didn’t fall, but hung there in a cloud. Then it rearranged itself, forming a kind of flat canvas, no thicker than an individual grain, suspended just above their heads.
Suddenly it was no longer sand, at least in appearance. It became a rectangle of gently pulsing white light, which in turn gave way to a succession of primary colours, flashing through the spectrum. When it calmed, an image came into focus, raising gasps and exclamations from some in the band.
The human Tentarr Arngrim, Serapheim to the fraternity of wizards and seers, gazed down at them.
Wheam looked terrified. Dallog, the other tyros, Spurral, and Pepperdyne and Standeven, none of whom had much if any knowledge of the sorcerer, were almost as awed.
“This image is recorded in the grains of sand,” Dynahla explained. “You cannot converse with him.”
“Like back on Ceragan the last time,” Haskeer whispered.
Stryke shushed him.
Serapheim spoke, his voice loud, almost booming, and all could hear. “ Greetings, Stryke; and Wolverines, I salute you. You are to be congratulated on your efforts in Acurial. Your actions there played a not insignificant part in freeing your kind from the shackles of oppression.”
“Didn’t get us Jennesta though,” Jup muttered under his breath.
As though responding, Serapheim’s likeness went on, “ It’s regrettable that you had less success in your dealings with my daughter. But do not reproach yourselves for it, and take heart from knowing that aspect of your mission is far from over.” The sorcerer paused briefly. When he resumed, his tone was less formal, and betrayed a degree of weariness. “ I’ve much to tell you, although I fear not all your curiosity’s going to be satisfied. Not yet.” He grew more matter-of-fact. “ First, let me commend Dynahla to you. You’ve a faithful, dependable ally in this adherent, who has my complete trust, and deserves yours. Dynahla’s powers can be of great help to you. All I ask is that you don’t allow my most steadfast servant to come to harm. I’d be devastated should Dynahla suffer an end as miserable as Parnol’s, whose fate you have doubtless now learnt.” There was something that could have been a sigh before he carried on. “ As with so much that is corrupt, Jennesta was behind Parnol’s death. Just one more casual murder to her, but a grievous blow to me, and to our cause.”
“We have a cause?” Coilla mumbled.
“ I know that, for a time, Jennesta had possession of the instrumentalities you hold,” Serapheim continued, “ and since you regained them they’ve failed to work properly. Didn’t you wonder at the ease with which you got them back? I mean no slur on your abilities, but had she been determined to keep them you would have had a much harder fight on your hands. The fact is that Jennesta wanted you to recover the instrumentalities. For two reasons. First, she has mastered an ancient magical process that allowed her to copy them. Second, she placed an enchantment on the original set she allowed you to take back. A spell which accounts for their erratic behaviour, and may even let her track your movements.”
There were some knowing nods at that. It was more or less what smarter members of the band already suspected.
“As far as I can tell, the fake instrumentalities Jennesta possesses have as much power as the genuine ones. I don’t have to tell you that this makes her even more dangerous. As far as the influence she exercises over your instrumentalities is concerned, Dynahla has the skill to counter it, though in a limited way. I expect to fare better, but only if you bring the instrumentalities to me.”
“Why didn’t you come here yourself?” Haskeer said.
“He can’t hear you,” Dynahla reminded him.
“Oh, yeah.”
Several of the others glared and waved him quiet.
“ As you know by now,” Serapheim’s image said, “ we are not the only ones with an interest in the artefacts.
