The golden thoroughbred snorted when the grey-coated man on his back stopped him at the edge of the forest. The animal scraped the ground with its forelegs, shaking its long head uneasily as the unnatural mist floating out of the trees reached it. The tall man dismounted and faced the indifferent wall of trees towering before him. He saw before him not a dark mass of multitudes, but a pulsing junction of magical energy lines converging like a yellow sun. He felt in his bones that it was about to explode. He patted the muscular neck of his horse and started for the wide but clear path leading to the heart of the multitude. The gnarled branches of the trees fell towards him like a great green roof, filtering the blue light of the moon, drawing strange patterns on the grass. There was no sound of animals rustling in the undergrowth, nor of owls hooting.
The inhabitants of the forest knew that the ghosts would soon be dancing here, and they hid in their caves. Out of the corner of his eye, the grey cloaked man could see the dark figures hiding behind the trees. He saw the one to his right draw an arrow from a quiver fastened to the left side of his belt, and with the calm of a predator stalking its prey, place it on the nerve of its bow and aim it at the intruder's head.
It gave no sign of knowing of the impending attack. However, in his mind he had already recalled the necessary incantations. When the lurking hunter fired the arrow, a blueprint of a round shield outlined in magical lines of force appeared before his eyes. The energy emanating from it set in motion the particles floating in the air, invisible to the human eye, which in an instant were arranged in a pattern. A cloud of mist appeared in the air and quickly solidified, forming a shield directly in front of the man. The arrow vibrated in it.
More arrows came from either side of the path, but the grey hooded one drew his cover of nothingness before him by sheer force of mind. In a moment a forest of arrows had sprung up from it. The man conjured up images of three daggers drawn from lines of force in his mind as they quickly materialized in the air before him. He heard the heartbeats of the opponents closest to him, so he turned the blades in that direction and telekinetically threw them away.
There were loud cries from the trees as the daggers that sprang from nowhere slashed into flesh. The man conjured up four more of these weapons and fired them at the ambushers. Meanwhile, the shield bounced around him, catching the arrows. But the concentration involved in creating the objects was taking more and more of his strength. Sweat beaded on his brow as he soothed his soul with breathing exercises he had learned from his masters.
The summoned shield was like a porcupine from the arrows protruding from it when six leather-clad warriors rushed out of the trees with spears drawn. The grey cloaked one immediately threw two daggers into the throats of the two warriors closest to him. He then turned the shield to horizontal and gave it a telekinetic thrust. The round object spun to the right, and then, propelled by the momentum, sliced through three men running behind each other. But in the meantime he was already casting another spell in his mind. A vapour of mist appeared around his hand, taking the form of a two-bladed sword. Without hesitation, he immediately spun on his axis and slashed the net thrown at him in two, then decapitated a soldier charging at him from the right. He cut off the right arm of a second and plunged the magically conjured blade into the throat of a third. The attackers used stone and brass weapons, so they posed no threat to the Greycoat.
However, thirty more leather-clad warriors came along the path and aimed their bows at the man. He looked around and raised his sword in front of him. He glanced at his enemies and smiled mockingly from under his hood. They were short, yellow-skinned men with slanted eyes and black hair tied back. They all wore necklaces of bone and dried leather around their necks and looked down mournfully at their dead companions.
Then their leader stepped forward. He stood a head taller than the others, the moon shining on his head. Pierced through the bridge of his nose, he wore a sharply honed bone pin at each end, marking his high place in the tribe. He scanned the grey cloak, trying to peer under the hood, to make out the features of his face.
- What is your name? - asked their leader, roughly pronouncing the common language.
The man had learned in the Cloud Tower not to say his name when it was a hostile student of magic. It was a lesson he had always held to.
- I am the Manifestor of the Cloud Tower, he told the soldiers. They were presumably in the service of the mage responsible for the magical anomaly lurking in the forest. Of course, he knew what they were preparing to do here. And that it had something to do with that girl's disappearance.
- That's not a name. Tell me your name. - the leader of the soldiers ordered him, as he walked around the prisoner.
- Call me Temo. - he said, smiling from under his hood. The man thought he had taken him prisoner. That he had power over him, he could not realise with his feeble mind that in fact his life and the lives of his men were in the hands of the Manifestor. He had several tricks up his sleeve to take care of them, but now his goal was to bring him before their master.
- That's not a real name.
- 'I will tell your masters,' said the Manifestor. - 'I suppose you're thinking of killing me. But if your master thinks himself truly great, he will not put the decision in your hands. So you have no choice but to lead me to him.
The leather-armored man hissed, pulled the bronze dagger from his belt and held it to the Manifestor's throat.
- And what if I were to slit your throat? - he asked mockingly.
- 'Surely your master knows I have come. The arrival of a powerful person like me would make waves here just as you would when you throw a pebble into a river. If you want to kill me and lie to him about me for the sheer desire of blood, you will betray him. - He looked from the shadow of his hood to the warrior with the pierced nostrils and smiled. - So I say for your own good.  You'd better bring me to him alive, unless you want to send the rest of your life in the captivity of your own mind.
The man stared uncertainly ahead of him, and put his knife in his belt. Then he ordered his two men to tie up the Manifestor. He obediently clasped his wrists behind his back and let them loop a rough and thick rope around him. Then they headed west towards the interior of the plethora. More warriors emerged from the trees and followed him. The wizard noticed that they were watching him, eyes wide open, hands on their weapons. Though he could not read the men, he suspected that at a suspicious movement they would strike him down and slit his throat. Of course, to do such a thing, the mage would have to fear the warriors accompanying him. However, he was not very interested in them. He didn't much care to show them his back. And if one of them was foolish enough to attack him, he had the means to defend himself.
After a while the path began to rise, a faint flute sounded from the trees, and a red light flickered. But the Manifestor could feel the currents of air swirling around him like the foreboding of a storm about to blow.
The warriors around him whispered in their own tongues. From their jewelry and clothing, he knew immediately that he was dealing with a trio. These nomads were fond of roaming the forests and steppes far from human settlements, herding their herds ahead of them. And of course, in a dry spell, they would invade the frontiers of the Khoniel Empire and raid the small towns and villages there until they were cleared out by legions from a nearby fortress.
And of course their wizards have maintained close links with the Other Side. The dimension beyond perception to which the souls of humans and other beings go when their time comes, and where weaker and stronger entities ruled. And which is dangerous and forbidden territory for the magicians of the Cloud Tower.
And that foolish girl wandered with them for a year. How much time could we have lost on this? - she asked herself. But it didn't matter to her now, she was at the end of the matter.
The three camped in a wide, irregularly shaped clearing. Among the dozens of tents, women in simple brown trousers and tunics decorated their tents or cooked dinner over a campfire. Around them, children chased each other, giggling. A herd of black, muscular buffalo grazed peacefully in pens set up at the edge of the camp. The Manifestor's gaze was drawn to the black stone statue in the middle of the clearing. The idol was a large, faceless creature. Fat and short arms clung to the sides of its thick, bulging torso, and wide, trunk-thick legs connected it to the ground. In place of its eyes, two black hollows looked out into the blind world, and from its mouth, which formed a silent cry, a spring gushed out, trickled down its bulging stone belly and finally gathered into a lake in the stone basin carved at its feet.
The sorcerer could feel the magical power that permeated the rock, and thus the spring's water, which in fact came from the junction where the lines of force met.
He didn't have long to ponder this, for the kolmok stopped in the square in front of the statue as their leader left them and entered a more ornate tent. He soon returned in the company of another man. The man was shorter than the leader, but his upright posture and strangely patterned face radiated strength and dignity. He wore red leather armour and brown trousers. His shoulders were covered by a cloak of black feathers that reached to the ground. His feet were covered in leather moccasins. He stopped in front of the Manifestor and pulled his hood off his head without thinking.
- Ah, long face, pointed chin and high cheekbones. Your paleness shows that you have spent many nights learning the magical arts. Your flawless complexion and carefully trimmed black beard and hair show the traces of your imprisonment in the golden cage of the Cloud Tower. - Your features are familiar, I've seen them somewhere before.
She rubbed her broad chin as she eyed him.
- "I know you," interjected the Manifestor. - You are Hujor.
- So you followed me, did you? - She asked. - Of course, it must have been easy. You have thick folios of me and the shamans of my people in your tower, don't you? You know many of our secrets, thanks to the interrogators of the griffins. And I knew about you, Berengier the Manifestor! Did you think you were the only ones with eyes everywhere? I have them in the alleys and markets of Qalac and in every village and town from Brison to here. As soon as you appeared somewhere, I knew you were there.
Then a young girl stepped out of the tent. She was taller than the kolmok, and stood out from the kolmok with her fair skin and round green eyes that resembled her mother's. As did her black hair, tied up in a bun at the back. She wore the same simple trousers and sleeveless tunic as the women of the tribe.
She recognized him immediately, however, and her heart skipped a beat.
Berengier cast a spell over her. He reached out with his consciousness towards the magical junction beneath the clearing. But he ran into an obstacle, the tentacles growing from his spirit bouncing off the web of magical energy surrounding the ball of light. The magical tentacles snapped back with such speed that the man staggered from the pain that shot through his head. The next moment, three men threw themselves at him, and as hard as he tried to keep them at bay with fists, one of the men, leaning on his back, finally undid the silver buckle that held his cloak together in front. All that was left was the grey tunic with the emblem of the Tower of Clouds and a pair of trousers.
Hujor gave a low chuckle, raised his index finger and began to circle it. Thumb-thick tendrils emerged from under the leaves. Berengier couldn't even gasp as one of the river dikes that had struck from the left wrapped around his ankles, tripping him. He fell forward, his chest meeting the ground with a loud thud. The Manifestor felt as if he had been punched in the chest by a mountain troll. In the next second, another river of blood wrapped around his chest and pinned his arm to his side, immobilizing him.
- "While you command the inanimate particles in the air, my power extends to life," said Hujor, as he walked around the pinned down Berengier, "The knowledge that your order is so determined to eradicate has made you incapable of fighting. I draw on the same power that makes the desert bloom in spring!
The maiden stepped up to Hujor and handed him a wooden bowl. The shaman took it from her, dug into the earth, took a handful of it and placed it in the pot. There was a ceremonial quality to his movements as he stepped up to the spring and placed the bowl underneath. In moments, the water was all over the bowl.
- You're lucky, you're about to witness the initiation of a new shaman. 'But you cannot tell anyone what you have seen here,' said Hujor.'Small consolation, but I tell you that I will not do to you what you did to mine. I'll help you quickly to the place where your soul will go. I could not allow your superiors to send more hounds after us.
All the men, women and children in the camp gathered around the clearing and watched in fascination as their shaman, with the girl at his side, walked to Berengier. The Wizard of the Cloud Tower looked up, but his eyes were filled with cold defiance instead of fear.
- 'I've only come for Norén,' he said to the shaman, glancing at her.
- And why did you come? Is there nothing but blood to bind you? Or has the Manifestor's legendary ice heart suddenly thawed? - "Has it not been thawed by a father's love?
The steel eyes of the armour he wore beneath his tunic dug into his skin as the tendrils wrapped more tightly around his body. Lifting his gaze to Hujora, he bit his lower lip.
Meanwhile, the shaman beckoned to Noréna, and she sat down in a lotus position in front of the statue, hands clasped together in front of her belly, and after one last glance at the mage, she closed her eyes and concentrated.
Hujor murmured magic words, mixing the spring water with the black humus with his fingers. He dipped his index finger into the wet mud and drew a squiggly mark on her forehead. Then he painted a spiral on the right side of her face. Meanwhile, she sang louder and louder on her sluggish tongue, which contained more consonants than vowels. Each word almost glowed in the night for Berengier. The canopy of the trees began to rattle as the wind suddenly shook them. The manifestor felt the sudden storm was icy cold compared to the hot summer evening.
Even the trams huddled together to protect themselves from the cold. Hujor then pulled out a thin bone flute from the leather pouch hanging on the left side of his belt, raised it to his mouth and began to play with it. The instrument, decorated with magical designs, emitted unbridled melodies as the shaman's thin spider fingers danced wildly on it, clamping down on the holes in it. The air shook, the wind blew even harder.
Berengier saw a thread-thin crack of white light appear in the air above the girl's head, slowly widening. The icy glow emanating from it cooled the air. Within moments, a serum formed on the ground.
The sorcerer closed his eyes and conjured up the image of an eight-pointed star, glowing golden. The image, slowly taking shape in the darkness, spread before his mind's eye in a blurry blur. It was as if he were trying to concentrate on the light of the candle that fluttered before the glowing solar disk.
He could not see, but he could feel the airy figures coming into the clearing. Warriors in shining armour and weapons, men and women in fantastic outfits, walked out of the trees. The shadows of magnificent beasts were lured by Hujor's song, many of which Berengier had only encountered in the pages of the Cloud Tower's codices, for they either lived in remote landscapes or were extinct, perhaps hunting in the forests and fields of the Far Side. The magic that emanated from them made the image of the sign he was trying to recall tremble. Its outline blurred. It was painful and dizzying for Berengier to keep his eyes on the star.
The sound of Hujor's flute assaulted his ears, intruding on his thoughts. Berengier tried to concentrate, but as he did so, memories kept resurfacing from the dark parts of his mind where he had sent them. The image of a little girl appeared in his mind's eye, riding past their farmhouse, constantly on his heels, begging him loudly to teach her what she knew. But he either let her words pass his ears or interrupted her with a scowl. But then, he, one of the Cloud Tower's most accomplished students, had no idea the path he was taking.
It was the path the girl had taken when she decided that, if not from him, she might learn magic from someone else. And so she set out on the path that led from their farm, through the interior of the Khoniel Empire and the trading towns that lined the borders of the Soqd steppe, and here she stumbled upon Hujor. And finally, he too followed the bastard, and at the end of the journey he lay here, trapped, waiting for his death, or preparing to kill him if the ritual succeeded. He continued to concentrate on the golden star, trying to reach out towards the symbol woven from the ever sharpening and fading energy.
He wanted to scream, but kept it to himself. His chest was almost aflame with anger. In moments the golden symbol turned red and sharpened. The melody Hujor played filled the air, the glowing spirit-forms gathering around her. Tendrils sprouting from their bodies curled towards the blue blur that was Noréné's inner essence.
Berengier let the fire of anger flood her soul, immersing herself in it. Anger stirred the blood in his veins, his heart began to pound. The feeling opened up his inner wells. The manifestor felt as if his insides had been poured with crystal-cold water. He exhaled and let the star turn from blood red back to golden yellow. The light from it filled his bones and muscles. Tentatively, he assembled three razor-sharp discs from the particles swirling in the air. Berengier ordered them to cut through the branches.
Trams watching the ceremony cried out in disappointment as the discs, spinning at lightning speed, started to cut the barky-looking tendrils at the edges. When they were cut through, they quickly disintegrated into a puff of mist.
Berengier leapt to his feet, the pieces of vine flying in all directions in the wind. Hujor kept blowing his flute, just glanced at it, then blinked. More river dars, as thick as hair, popped out from under the brush. The sorcerer jumped back and conjured up in his mind the blueprint of an unadorned sword. A silver-grey swirl appeared in his fist, condensed into a sharp two-bladed sword.
Berengier swung the freshly summoned blade horizontally, slicing through the tentacle, dodging a right slash and slicing it in two.
- Run!" shouted Hujor to the tribesmen in the clearing. His eyes flashed with genuine concern.
Most of the tribesmen didn't need to say a word, they immediately threw themselves into the tents, scooping up their few possessions and dragging their children behind them.
But six warriors, together with the man with the pierced nose, set off towards the manifestor, drawing their bronze handcuffs and spears. They then threw themselves at the mage, who at that moment rolled away from a tendril whizzing towards his head. He stopped just in front of one of the three warriors, who thrust his spear with a blood-curdling battle cry into the torso of the man on the ground. With lightning speed, Berengier dodged the point of the weapon aimed at him, leapt up and thrust his sword through his attacker's torso, then parried the blow of a man's handjar from the right and struck back.
Meanwhile, the tune Hujor was playing grew faster and bouncier as the shaman's fingers began to move faster across the slots of the flute. The spirits from the Beyond, invading the world of men, circled ever closer to the girl meditating before the statue. Like moths fluttering around a candle flame.
The sight only made the wizard's heart beat harder. With his sword, he slashed and slashed at the flesh, cutting through the bark that covered the tendrils moved by the magic, digging into the juicy bundle of plant fibres.
Hujor danced around her with increasing ferocity, almost biting the flute. The Manifestor, swinging his blade with such verve and calculatedness, was now only fencing with the leader of the warriors. The pierced-nosed three laid siege to Berengier's defences with broad thrusts and swift jabs. Suddenly the wizard leapt backwards and was on the right side of the kolm, and before it could recover he thrust forward. The blade of the magically constructed sword pierced through the leather blood, pierced through the ribs and finally stopped in the man's lung.
Berengier drew his sword and moved towards Hujor and the girl. Noréné's figure blurred as she looked through the blurred figures around her. The white light from them made her tanned skin pale. A ghostly hawk landed on the concentrating girl's shoulder. The glow from it grew stronger and stronger, losing its outline and spreading out into a cloud of light that kept changing shape. Berengier held his sword out in front of him and started to run.
Suddenly an invisible fist struck him in the stomach, and he fell backwards with the force of the blow, rolling across the avar. The pain made him see stars, but he blocked it out of his mind by reciting the mantras he had learned as an apprentice. It helped him to get up.
Hujor looked down at the bodies of his men. The sadness was evident on his face.
- 'It is bad to look upon the dead of my people, but to know that they died for you,' he whispered to himself, looking up at Berengier.
The Manifestor watched, paralysed, as tentacles from a patch of light penetrated Noréné's ears and eyes. The girl's body began to glow with a strange, inner light as the entity beyond attached itself to the girl and awakened the magic within her.
The wild mage is inexperienced and not yet conscious, thought Berengier. She was of his flesh and blood. And he was planning how to kill her. In moments, he had assembled a dagger, and with the power of his mind, he pointed it at Noréné. He knew that if he threw the weapon into her forehead, he would give her a quick death. A clean and quick solution to an otherwise troublesome problem.
Berengier prepared to throw the dagger into the bastard.
Into your daughter, into your blood, someone whispered in the back of his mind in his voice. Yet it was the equivalent of a piercing cry.
Berengier knitted his brows.
The loud roar that filled the clearing distracted him from his goal. The wizard looked towards Hujor. The shaman was in hellish pain, judging by the veins bulging in his neck and the sweat glistening on his brow. His legs and arms suddenly doubled in length, muscles swelling. His chest swelled. His jaw jutted forward, canines began to protrude from his gums. His fingernails grew into claws.
Berengier immediately thrust the dagger meant for his daughter at the transforming shaman. The weapon pierced the left side of Hujor's chest. The transforming mage leaned forward and cried out. Then, reaching up with his right arm, he grasped the hilt of the dagger and ripped it from the wound.
The beast that had been the man named Hujor a few minutes ago roared like a satiated big cat as the deep gash in his chest began to shrink and the skin around the edges began to stick together and fuse.
- 'Well, I see that I couldn't speak to your soul if I wanted to,' Berengier said, coming to a leaping halt before the creature and looking into its amber eyes.
It dropped to all fours and started towards the mage. Berengier darted to the left out of the way of the man-beast and stabbed his sword into its side. Hujor cried out in pain, grabbing the blade and pulling it from his flesh with a jerk. Berengier summoned another dagger from behind the shaman's back and slashed it just inches below his shoulder blade. In return, his opponent struck the wizard with a powerful blow to the far end of the clearing. As he flew through the air, time slowed for Berengier. The gears of his brain whirred with lightning speed. He realized that the first thing he would hit when he fell would be his torso. He could already smell the damp dirt and knew that his ribs would be the first to break and puncture his lungs.
He began to concentrate as the magical particles swirled around his chest and belly, forming a pattern. Within moments, a crystalline glow of blood stretched across her body.
Her fall, followed by a loud crack, still hurt, but the magically summoned armor absorbed the force of the impact. By this time, however, Hujor was towering over him, and when he saw that he was alive, he howled in rage. He raised his right arm and struck Berengier's head. But the wizard had expected this. He began another spell, and the next moment he conjured a rock-hard crystal blood and glove from the magical ether in the air on his right arm.
Hujor gasped in surprise as the sorcerer suddenly restrained his attack with his armoured right hand, while his metal-clad left hand struck a powerful blow to the monster shaman's abdominal wall.
He staggered backwards from the force of the blow. Berengier, before he could rise, had his legs and the top of his head thickly coated with the manifested substance. In his place stood a three-metre-tall crystal giant, facing Hujor, the human beast shaking and growling with rage.
They rushed at each other. Berengier delivered heavy blows to the spirit-controlled shaman. And they were hitting, for Hujor was often dodging the attacks and his armour was cracking from the force of his blows.
The man could barely see out of the helmet of armour he had summoned, but he did notice the faint clouds billowing around Hujor when the shaman came into view. The man had probably made a desperate bargain with the entity within and it had taken control of his mind and body.
When he was still early in his studies, he asked the Galerth master why he should fear the power of the Beyond. The tall, red-haired man from the North gave a complicated answer that the then ten-year-old boy did not understand. The answer stood before him in the form of the monster that had become Hujor.
And what fate might await his daughter...
The next moment, he was back on the ground as Hujor hit his breastplate like a rock fired from a chute. The shaman measured a shower of blows on the blood that covered the Manifestor's body. At the same time, tendrils thicker and more pliable than ever before crawled out of the ground like well-grown worms and wrapped themselves around Berengier's armour-clad legs, squeezing them tightly. The sorcerer tried to use his strength to heal the cracks in the blood, but as soon as he had healed one, another appeared from Hujor's blows. Later, he would only use his strength to reinforce the blood. But it took a lot out of him.
The shaman roared in triumph as the length of the blood.
The wild mage is inexperienced and not yet conscious, thought Berengier. She was of his flesh and blood. And he was planning how to kill her. In moments, he had assembled a dagger, and with the power of his mind, he pointed it at Noréné. He knew that if he threw the weapon into her forehead, he would give her a quick death. A clean and quick solution to an otherwise troublesome problem.
Berengier prepared to throw the dagger into the bastard.
Into your daughter, into your blood, someone whispered in the back of his mind in his voice. Yet it was the equivalent of a piercing cry.
Berengier knitted his brows.
The loud roar that filled the clearing distracted him from his goal. The wizard looked towards Hujor. The shaman was in hellish pain, judging by the veins bulging in his neck and the sweat glistening on his brow. His legs and arms suddenly doubled in length, muscles swelling. His chest swelled. His jaw jutted forward, canines began to protrude from his gums. His fingernails grew into claws.
Berengier immediately thrust the dagger meant for his daughter at the transforming shaman. The weapon pierced the left side of Hujor's chest. The transforming mage leaned forward and cried out. Then, reaching up with his right arm, he grasped the hilt of the dagger and ripped it from the wound.
The beast that had been the man named Hujor a few minutes ago roared like a satiated big cat as the deep gash in his chest began to shrink and the skin around the edges began to stick together and fuse.
- 'Well, I see that I couldn't speak to your soul if I wanted to,' Berengier said, coming to a leaping halt before the creature and looking into its amber eyes.
It dropped to all fours and started towards the mage. Berengier darted to the left out of the way of the man-beast and stabbed his sword into its side. Hujor cried out in pain, grabbing the blade and pulling it from his flesh with a jerk. Berengier summoned another dagger from behind the shaman's back and slashed it just inches below his shoulder blade. In return, his opponent struck the wizard with a powerful blow to the far end of the clearing. As he flew through the air, time slowed for Berengier. The gears of his brain whirred with lightning speed. He realized that the first thing he would hit when he fell would be his torso. He could already smell the damp dirt and knew that his ribs would be the first to break and puncture his lungs.
He began to concentrate as the magical particles swirled around his chest and belly, forming a pattern. Within moments, a crystalline glow of blood stretched across her body.
Her fall, followed by a loud crack, still hurt, but the magically summoned armor absorbed the force of the impact. By this time, however, Hujor was towering over him, and when he saw that he was alive, he howled in rage. He raised his right arm and struck Berengier's head. But the wizard had expected this. He began another spell, and the next moment he conjured a rock-hard crystal blood and glove from the magical ether in the air on his right arm.
Hujor gasped in surprise as the sorcerer suddenly restrained his attack with his armoured right hand, while his metal-clad left hand struck a powerful blow to the monster shaman's abdominal wall.
He staggered backwards from the force of the blow. Berengier, before he could rise, had his legs and the top of his head thickly coated with the manifested substance. In his place stood a three-metre-tall crystal giant, facing Hujor, the human beast shaking and growling with rage.
They rushed at each other. Berengier delivered heavy blows to the spirit-controlled shaman. And they were hitting, for Hujor was often dodging the attacks and his armour was cracking from the force of his blows.
The man could barely see out of the helmet of armour he had summoned, but he did notice the faint clouds billowing around Hujor when the shaman came into view. The man had probably made a desperate bargain with the entity within and it had taken control of his mind and body.
When he was still early in his studies, he asked the Galerth master why he should fear the power of the Beyond. The tall, red-haired man from the North gave a complicated answer that the then ten-year-old boy did not understand. The answer stood before him in the form of the monster that had become Hujor.
And what fate might await his daughter...
The next moment, he was back on the ground as Hujor hit his breastplate like a rock fired from a chute. The shaman measured a shower of blows on the blood that covered the Manifestor's body. At the same time, tendrils thicker and more pliable than ever before crawled out of the ground like well-grown worms and wrapped themselves around Berengier's armour-clad legs, squeezing them tightly. The sorcerer tried to use his strength to heal the cracks in the blood, but as soon as he had healed one, another appeared from Hujor's blows. Later, he would only use his strength to reinforce the armour. But it took a lot out of him.
The shaman roared in triumph as the blood burst open at length, and from then on he could open it with his rock-hard black claws, exposing Berengier's defenceless chest. The beast looked down at his vanquished foe and his face returned to its original human form. Hujor smiled indulgently.
- 'Well, I'm standing over you, Manifestor,' he said grimly, 'You were a wizard of great power, with many tricks up your sleeve. Iwal loses a great talent in your person. Your heart of ice melted for a moment, and that too caused your death.
With that, he raised his fist for a punch. But suddenly he looked towards the end of the clearing. There was no ghost in the clearing. When the ritual was over, they disappeared. A small figure approached with unsteady steps. It was Noréné, and the glowing mist around her was evidence that the link with the spirit on the other side had been made.
- 'Well, we welcome a new shaman,' said Hujor solemnly. Right, Iceheart Berengier, at least tell your daughter you're proud!
- 'You have made a beast of her,' whispered the wizard.
- 'And this is the man you wanted to make proud of you,' said the shaman, raising his hand to strike again.
- NO!" cried Noréné.
The wild buffaloes in the paddocks roared and charged the fence. And Berengier could feel waves coming from her, all the way to the edge of the camp. Hujor looked at her in surprise, and then Berengier...
The next moment, there was a loud crash as the animals broke out of their cages and raced across the camp, hooves dusting the tents and the tribesmen's companions left behind...
The shaman could not even squeak when six vines sprang from the ground. One wrapped around his waist, the others around his arms. They pulled him off Berengier and pinned the still roaring half-man to the ground. Right into the path of the charging buffalo, who trampled over him in moments before disappearing into the darkness of the forest.
Noréné immediately came to her father's side and held out her hand. Berengier, however, crawled up as if his daughter had not been there and looked at the shattered but still breathing Hujor.
- 'The kolms, as soon as their shaman proves weak, they will banish him and choose a new one, won't they? - he asked the girl.
- Yes.
- "Good, then stay," said Berengier, his eyes searching for his cloak.
- I did all this to show you that I'm good enough to make you proud of me.
Berengier did not look at his daughter. The air had somehow grown cooler around them.
- 'You are halfway to the Other Side,' said the wizard. - 'I cannot take you back to the Imperium.
He started towards the forest, looking ahead. But despite his determined steps, he did not know what to do. He was the last heir of the Belen family since all his kin had died when their manor was ravaged by dragon swans. He had only survived because he had long since continued his studies at Cloud Tower.
- 'Then I'll be on your trail,' she replied.
Berengier paused, said nothing, and started out of the clearing towards the edge of the woods where his moored horse awaited him. The girl followed.