Shadowless

by Randall McNally

  Pain shot through her head, and she touched it gently, wincing. How long have I been unconscious for?

  It had taken them almost two days to reach the battlefield, and she could only surmise that they had begun the trek home. She was weak, sore and hungry, and could feel tears welling up in her eyes. She tried to move her legs from under her, but the shuffling sound alerted one of the soldiers.

  ‘If it’s not the ice princess herself, wide awake,’ he shouted. ‘I hope we didn’t interrupt your beauty sleep?’

  The other soldiers laughed, raising clay jugs in the air.

  One picked up a large bone he had been gnawing at, stood up and swaggered over to her cage. He ran the bone along the bars. ‘Are you hungry, you little bitch?’

  Too weak to speak, Kayan bared her teeth and hissed at him.

  He threw the bone through the bars of the cage, striking her on the head.

  ‘Chew on that, you filthy little animal,’ he said, turning back to the campfire. He snatched a jug from one of the other soldiers and raised it to his lips, downing the contents in one gulp. He belched and handed it back.

  ‘I’m away for a piss,’ he proclaimed and turned away, walking through the heavily falling snow to beyond the edge of the camp.

  Stopping just short of a snow-covered, pile of boulders, the soldier undid his breeches and began to relieve himself. He winced as the cold air came in contact with his exposed groin. Then he grinned as he thought about writing his name in the snow, but his attention was taken by some of the snowflakes seeming to hover in the air ahead of him.

  He squinted, sure that it was the lack of light playing tricks on his eyes. Still in mid stream, he stepped forward, careful not to splash any urine on himself.

  The flakes began to move towards him and he felt warm air around his genitals.

  He looked towards the pile of boulders from where the warm air seemed to be flowing.

  A section of the snow on a mound in front of him slid to the ground as a large eyelid opened, revealing a green, glassy eye bigger than a cart wheel.

  The soldier stood rooted to the spot in terror.

  The dragon lifted its head, sending the rest of the snow cascading to the ground.

  The soldier could see the flames from the campfire reflected in the creature’s eyes. Its huge ridged head was covered in black scales that soaked up the light.

  In one swift movement, the creature pounced. Opening its maw, it gripped the soldier in its teeth, pulling him from the ground. It raised its head and opened its jaws so the soldier fell to the back of its mouth, before it swallowed him whole.

  The five soldiers sat around the fire, their cloaks pulled up tight to their necks against the cold, drinking and swapping tales that got taller with every mug of ale, each secretly yearning for their home and a soft bed.

  ‘I must have slit twenty throats during that battle,’ one boasted.

  ‘Only ’cos they were lying around half dead already,’ scoffed another.

  ‘Aren’t you the hero? That’s the only battle you’ll kill twenty men in,’ said a third.

  ‘That’s horseshit; I remember killing at least twenty during the Battle of—’

  ‘Ssh,’ one commanded. ‘Did you hear that?’

  ‘Hear what?’

  Had it run, the soldiers would have surely have felt the ground shake. Had it flown, they would have certainly have felt the air currents. But the dragon stalked. Like a cat hunting its prey, it approached slowly until it was sure of the kill. Then it struck.

  The beast’s head emerged first from the darkness. Larger than a coach, it had a row of thick horns lining the top of its snout and teeth that overlapped its bottom jaw. The dragon raised its head and inhaled deeply.

  The soldiers saw the scales on its now-expanding chest as the creature rose up, but too late. The dragon straightened its neck and emptied the contents of its fire-chamber with a searing blast. The liquid flame covered the soldiers, clinging to their bodies. A second later the liquid exploded as it reacted with the cold air.

  The burning figures staggered blindly about the campsite, the volatile liquid ripping open their skin in a series of blasts. One of them careered in the direction of the wagon holding Kayan’s cage. The girl screamed as he approached.

  As if hearing her, the dragon spread out its large black wings and barged into the camp. Thrashing its tail back and forth it stormed towards the wagon, gathering pace until a split second before impact it leapt upwards, snatching Kayan’s cage in its hind claws before soaring into the air.

  Kayan could see a faint light from within the cave. Behind her, the dragon thundered down the hill and she turned to see it swooping back into the air. Shaking, she watched as it flew into the darkness. They had only been flying a few minutes before they had landed here, but still she had no idea where she was.

  The snow continued to fall heavily and was already starting to cover the remnants of her cage. The thick wooden panels and iron bars had been splintered and bent with consummate ease by the beast’s claws. But despite the power and violence with which it had destroyed her prison, the dragon had not harmed her at all.

  Now it had gone and she was alone on the hillside. Cautiously, she walked up to the cave and peered inside. There was a strange smell, a smell that made her mouth water. The light was coming from a storm lantern on top of a wooden table.

  The table itself was covered in platters of food and round it were three chairs. On one of the chairs sat a man wearing black robes, his face partially covered by a low-hanging cowl, under which a grey goatee beard could be seen.

  ‘Please, sit down, Kayan,’ the man said, indicating she should come forward. ‘Would you like something to eat?’

  Kayan stared at the man, and at the laden table. The food smelled delicious, it stirred distant memories of proper meals instead of raw, rotting meat. Yet she hesitated.

  ‘You need not fear. If I had wanted you dead, I would have told Darkan to incinerate you.’

  Her hunger got the better of her and she stumbled forward, still weak from her earlier exertions, and sat at the table. She began to scoff the food. There were meats and breads, pastries and pies, and other foods she did not even recognise.

  ‘I have let it all cool, I know you are not fond of hot food, or heat in general.’

  Kayan took large bites from a meat pie. Her cheeks bulging and gravy running down her chin, she ate it as quickly as possible, while keeping a close eye on the figure beside her.

  ‘You may eat slower if you wish, Kayan; no one’s going to take it from you.’

  ‘Who are you?’ She spoke through the thick pieces of cold meat filling her mouth.

  ‘My name is Amrodan, Brother Amrodan. I am a member of an order that has devoted itself to locating, and helping, people like you.’

  ‘What sort of people would that be?’ Crumbs fell from her mouth as she spoke.

  Amrodan moved the storm lantern to the right of them, and then pointed to the left wall.

  Kayan, a chicken drumstick in her hand, looked over her shoulder to see what he was pointing at. The rock face was illuminated.

  ‘The kind of people who do not cast shadows on a cave wall.’

  She put down the drumstick. He had no shadow either.

  ‘Why don’t we have shadows?’ Kayan asked.

  ‘What can you remember about growing up, before you were imprisoned by Lord Tarinhelm?’

  ‘Not much. There was a fight in my village. My father was involved and I was chased away by the tribal elders. I don’t know why, but after it happened I just wandered the frozen wastes of the Far North.’

  Kayan stared into space, searching for the memories that would allow her to relive the experience of being alone in the wilderness.

  ‘One day, some men found me sleeping out on the ice sheet. When I tried to fend them off
, they knocked me unconscious and I woke up in a locked room. I tried to use my powers to escape, but it only caused ice and snow to form around me. It seems that I need to be outside for them to work properly. I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, to be honest; I have never spoken to anyone about it.’ A solitary tear rolled down her cheek, before freezing solid. She cast it to the ground. ‘I have been kept in a cell in the dungeons of Fort Tarinhelm ever since. For years they locked me there, underground, feeding me rotting meat whenever they could be bothered. I hate Lord Tarinhelm so much for what he’s done to me. I have even killed innocent men under his command because I cannot get my hands on him.’

  Kayan felt remorseful, she pushed the food away, having suddenly lost her appetite.

  ‘I asked you a question. Why do we not have shadows?’

  ‘We are two of a kind, Kayan, children of the gods,’ Amrodan began. ‘Sometimes the gods take the form of mortal men. They come to our world and they force themselves upon the women in it. You and I are the result of such unions.’

  ‘Why do they do that?’

  ‘Because the goddesses were slaughtered in a civil war.’

  ‘So my real father is a god?’ she asked, shocked.

  ‘Yes. As is mine. Individuals like us are blessed or, some might say, cursed, with a fragment of that god’s power. The power manifests itself in several different ways; we age much slower and have increased mental and physical prowess, and then, of course, there are the unnatural powers, in your case, the ability to bend the elements to do your bidding.’

  ‘So that’s why I’m different,’ she said, staring into space. ‘I never understood why it was.’

  ‘Do you have other powers?’ Amrodan asked.

  ‘I can transfix people sometimes, with my eyes. Then there’s my kiss. It turns people to ice. Why do I have these particular powers?’

  ‘An individual’s abilities depend on the strength of the god who fathered them, some gods are stronger than others. These abilities can also be many and various, and not always directly related to the god who sired the individual. As I understand it, each child gets a fragment of their father’s power. Some children get a larger fragment than others. And by the sound of it, you have got a larger fragment than most.’

  ‘I get the feeling this power comes at a price?’

  ‘You didn’t expect this story to have a happy ending, did you?’ Amrodan said, with a wry smile. ‘As you get older, your power increases. Then the god that fathered you, or his followers, will come seeking the power you took from him when you were born. For the god to recover it, you must die. That is how the gods increase their power, they harvest us.’

  Kayan sat looking around her. She bit her lip and frowned. Something did not make sense.

  ‘Who is my real father and why has he not come looking for me already?’

  ‘Your eyes are light-blue, the colour of Trokaní, the God of Weather. The reason he has not come for you is because for years you have been hidden from the priests who serve these gods. By imprisoning you in his fortress Lord Tarinhelm has probably kept you alive.’

  ‘What should I do when the god comes? Run? Hide?’ she asked, fear audible in her voice.

  ‘Fight.’

  She looked at him wide-eyed.

  ‘Fight?’

  ‘When the time is right, yes. We are going to hunt these things like they hunt us. Kill them before they can get a chance to kill us,’ Amrodan stated.

  ‘Can they be killed? I mean, are you sure?’ she asked, her voice wobbling.

  ‘If we get enough of us then yes, we can summon one of these things and bring it down. We can send out a message to the others that we will not be hunted like animals, for sport.’

  ‘Wait. These things are looking for us everywhere so they can get back the power we took from them. They’re trying to kill us, and you want to summon one of them?’ Kayan asked.

  ‘We will have to. Should they come to our world of their own free will then they can change their size and shape as they please, fighting them would be impossible. If we summon them against their will, they have to appear in their true form, twenty-five-foot tall, armoured titans.’

  ‘Why are you so sure they can be killed?’

  ‘They killed each other during their civil war, did they not? A war that halved their number, wiping out most of the weaker gods and every last goddess,’ Amrodan stated.

  Reaching into a bowl of grapes, Amrodan ate a few before offering them to Kayan. She tried one and winced at its sweetness, having never before tasted them.

  ‘Has any mortal ever killed a god before?’ she asked. ‘There’s a difference between these things killing each other and us killing them.’

  ‘There have been stories down through history of them being wounded. I myself have seen one bleed, and if they bleed then they can be killed.’

  Kayan nibbled on the food, thinking about everything she had been told. On the rare occasions when she had been taken from her cell, she had heard people in the corridors whispering about gods and shadows. She had always suspected they were in some way referring to her.

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’ she asked, looking at Amrodan suspiciously.

  ‘I need your help. Like I said before, you are one of the strongest of us. I want you to help me fight these things, when the time is right.’

  ‘When will that be?’

  ‘It could be years, even decades away. I am trying to locate as many of our kind as possible. If I can find enough of us, with the right combination of powers then maybe, just maybe, we can stand up to these creatures. It is not easy; the Shadow Watchers usually get to them first.’

  ‘Shadow Watchers? Lord Tarinhelm once threatened me with them. Who are they?’

  ‘Every realm has them. Blue-cloaked killers who patrol the towns and cities of the Northern Realms, looking to weed out and execute people like us with the help of the temple priests. The high priests are relentless in the hunting and killing of us, all to please their gods.’

  ‘Have you found many others like us?’

  ‘A few.’

  ‘Are they here? Can I meet them?’ Kayan said, jumping up and looking around the cave.

  ‘They’re not here, Kayan. I have sworn to keep their existence a secret, as I will yours.’

  ‘You mentioned unnatural powers. What’s yours?’ she quizzed, narrowing her eyes.

  Amrodan placed his hands on the table, palms facing upwards.

  ‘Give me your hands.’

  Kayan looked through her hair at him.

  ‘I don’t think you want me to do that, old man.’

  The two regarded each other for a few seconds, until Kayan placed her hands on top of Amrodan’s.

  Ice formed on the backs of Amrodan’s hands, spreading up his wrists and onto his forearms. As it started to fill his sleeves, he closed his eyes and muttered to himself.

  Kayan watched in amazement as the ice melted and dripped from Amrodan’s arms onto the table. She pulled her hands away and looked open-mouthed at him.

  ‘How?’

  Amrodan dried his hands on his robes before picking up an earthenware jug from the table. He shook it a few times, liquid sloshing around inside it. Setting it back on the table, he put both hands on it and closed his eyes.

  There was a low, cracking sound from inside the jug.

  Kayan looked at the vessel then at Amrodan, not sure what was happening.

  Amrodan looked back at her, smiled and knocked the jug off the table.

  As soon as it struck the ground it shattered, leaving a block of ice where there should have been water. Kayan gazed down in awe.

  ‘You stored the cold inside you and transferred it into the jug?’

  ‘Not just the cold, any element, natural or otherwise.’

  Kayan put her bare foot on the jug-s
haped block of ice and rolled it back and forth. Its chill comforted her, bringing back memories of her icy home in the Far North.

  ‘What do you want from me? I cannot leave Frigöris. If I go too far south, the heat will kill me,’ Kayan said.

  ‘What if I told you that I could keep you safe, here, in Frigöris? Keep you hidden, far from the men who seek to kill you, until it was time to strike.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘It will not be easy, but there’s a place, deep underground, where you could live surrounded by ice. You would have everything you need to prepare yourself for when the time comes. I could supply you with books of arcane lore that will explain in detail all the questions you have about who, and what, we are.’

  ‘Where is this place?’

  ‘Fort Tarinhelm.’

  ‘What?’ Kayan sprang from her chair. ‘Are you out of your mind? I’m not going back there. I will not be imprisoned again.’

  Amrodan rubbed his beard.

  ‘Calm down, Kayan, I did not have Darkan rescue you merely to hand you back to your captors. What sort of a fool do you take me for? Now sit down,’ he said sharply.

  Why would he free me only to enslave me again? she thought, the years of imprisonment making her cynical and suspicious.

  ‘Most people like us either keep on the move, never staying anywhere long enough to be found out, or hide. That is the secret to survival. You are still young, by our standards. If you live openly, you will be found and you will be killed. It is that simple.’

  ‘What can I do?’ she asked, forlornly.

  ‘You must go back to the fortress, not as a prisoner, but as a guest.’

  ‘Lord Tarinhelm will imprison me. He will lock me in that cell and use me for his own ends again.’

  ‘Who said anything about Lord Tarinhelm?’

  She stared at him, confused.

  ‘Kayan, there is someone I would like you to meet,’ Amrodan looked to the cave entrance. ‘You can come in.’

  A tall figure, dressed in dragon-scale armour, came through the cave mouth, stopping just short of the table.