…Bel felt as if he skimmed across the ground. He barrelled onwards, and the air through his nostrils had never seemed so sweet. A hugger dropped in front of him and he ran it through, trampling its corpse beneath him. Faced with death, he had never felt so alive …
There was war in Losara’s future, but he did not look forward to it, did not derive any satisfaction from causing harm. Bel, on the other hand, seemed well suited to the task. Bel would not shy from killing; he would seek it out. How did a reluctance to kill fit into Losara’s future of conquering the world?
…His movements slipped into the pattern of the fight and he whirled like a leaf in a howling wind. Stepping this way and that, his sword was a streaking flash of light about him, carving huggers free of their lives …
A soldier, then, he might have been. The spirit of battle, dancing with death, instinctively able to navigate a fight. Instead, such a man was his opponent.
Lost in such thoughts, he rose above the forest until he could see only treetops.
He awoke.
He was on his back, staring up at the roiling darkness of the Cloud. The sound of lapping water came from all sides and a cold wind moved the blue hair from his eyes. He felt different.
He sat up. Beneath him, wet black stone ran down to the sea, which began just past his feet. Behind him rose a misshapen hill dotted with tiny blue flowers. He was on Assedrynn’s Isle.
There was a splash at the water’s edge as waves broke against the island. About a hundred paces out, something was rising from the sea. Spines pierced the surface, as tall as trees, and a huge bulk followed. Fibrous triple-pointed fins spread out flat over the water’s surface, hauling up a bulging fish-like head. The head reared – thick rubbery lips and glistening black eyes, with whiskers that whipped like tentacles. There was no mistaking the being – Losara had seen him many times in carvings and paintings.
Assedrynn.
Losara rolled fluidly into a kneel. The water continued to bubble and then, to the god’s left and right, others rose. Awe washed through Losara with each head that broke the surface. There was Elsara, the lionfish, all spines and stripes, sunset orange and blood red. Mokan and Mer, the twins, were like green-scaled Graka with fin-like wings. Lampet, the serpent, his long cobbled neck rising high above the sea, the oval eyes in his dragon’s head glowing blue, then yellow, then red, then green. Antennae and claws erupted upwards, and Losara recognised Chirruk, the watcher, who had taken his hands.
His hands?
Something stopped him looking. It felt like they were still there, but lighter, like the rest of him. He felt as if he could run a thousand leagues without drawing a breath. He rubbed his fingers together – like silk they were. What had changed? Still he did not look, not yet. One thing at a time, and he was still marvelling that the Dark Gods were just across the water. Should he be afraid? Others would have been. The gods could grant him favour or obliterate his spirit, but either way it was their choice and he could do nothing but be himself. Where was the fear in that?
‘Losara.’
It was the voice from the void, but now it echoed across the sea, rich and full. Assedrynn’s voice.
‘My masters,’ Losara said. ‘You honour me.’
Lampet’s eyes flared blue and his head extended over the sea until he was but paces away. His jaws opened, revealing a crystal maw, stalactite fangs that glinted in the light of his eyes. His voice rasped, and Losara felt breath like the air of an ancient cavern wash over him.
‘It is you who honour us, saviour child.’
Losara stared mesmerised into the pulsing eyes. Sometimes he could understand fear.
‘Recede, Lampet,’ said Assedrynn. Lampet drew back, the coils of his body slipping under the surface until only his head remained. ‘Your coming is welcome, Losara,’ continued Assedrynn. ‘We had feared the Caretaker might try something foolish.’
‘The Caretaker?’ asked Losara.
‘The present Shadowdreamer. His pride has turned him against our will.’
‘His greed!’ howled Mokan, her voice like piercing wind. ‘He spent too long with the sharks, the sharks!’
‘Silence, Mokan,’ said Assedrynn. ‘There are many things to discuss and this is not the first. Losara.’
‘Master?’
‘We know you have not looked, but Chirruk is anxious. What do you think of her work?’
Again Losara rubbed his fingers. So smooth. Slowly he looked down …and gasped at what had been done.
The slice at his wrists was clean. Where skin ended there was shadow, as if he wore gloves made from night. But they weren’t gloves, they were his hands. Shadowhands.
‘Your mortal blood is drained away,’ said Assedrynn. ‘Our essence in its place. Shadow travels the winding paths of your body, feeds your flesh, moves your heart.’
Losara turned his hands, feeling nothing of the cold breeze. In the darkness, they were darker. They were beautiful.
‘The world is changing,’ said Assedrynn. ‘Arkus seeks an end to the war between the gods. Your counterpart will side with him, and do much with what was taken from you. We need a champion, saviour child. Someone to carry our will to the world, to save our peoples, and us. Someone to serve as Shadowhand.
‘Great power is yours, greater than the world has ever known.’ The god rose further out of the sea, water rolling down his bulk. ‘Will you serve us first and only, Losara Shadowhand?’
Losara looked north. Somewhere out there, the sun beat down on grassy fields and the enemies of his people plotted to conquer and destroy. His counterpart, turned against him, was waiting.
‘Yes,’ he said, as wind blew hair back from his midnight eyes. ‘I will serve. But not first and only.’
Assedrynn stirred, and Lampet’s eyes flared red.
‘As well,’ said Losara.
Lalenda gazed at the wall of her stark little room, thinking thoughts of home. Somewhere out there was Swampwild, and her mother, and others of her kind. They all seemed very far away, a dream from another life.
She went to her dusty mirror and regarded herself critically. She opened her wings, flexing them for the first time in weeks. She saw how creased and crinkled they were, and knew how weak they had become. She scowled at her reflection and walked out of the room.
Down to the base of Skygrip she travelled, heading for the entrance cavern – the only place she knew of that led to a cave complex beneath the castle. It took her some time to reach the bottom as she didn’t know the route through the twisted corridors, nor the portal doors that would quicken the journey. She was careful to avoid patrols in case they took exception to her presence – she had no official reason to be so far down in the castle. Eventually she arrived at the entrance cavern and turned her eyes to the tunnel openings that lined its walls. Most led back up into the castle, but one or two, she knew, went down. Her eyes fell on a promising one and, after checking that the coast was clear, she circled the chamber towards it.
Voices floated into the cavern and she froze in the shadow of a towering statue. A cleaning squad of Grey Goblins emerged from a tunnel carrying buckets and mops and, to Lalenda’s dismay, set to work slopping water on the floor. She waited until they had settled into the task, then glanced over at the tunnel she wanted. It was only about twenty paces away.
‘What does it matter if they see you anyway?’ she whispered to herself. ‘They’re only cleaners.’
She skipped from the shadows, her wings spreading to make her lighter on her feet. She made little sound as she skimmed the floor and plunged into the enveloping blackness of the tunnel entrance. The Greys gave no indication they’d seen her. Relieved, she went further into the tunnel, which sloped downwards into dark. It took some moments for her eyes to adjust, and even then she couldn’t make out much. The best night vision was not much use in absolute darkness, and she paused to reconsider her plan.