Shadowless

by Randall McNally

  ‘The whole battle plan was based around Darkan,’ Trisidulous hissed.

  Arpherius stood dazed, his head spinning. The others backed off, some turned and prepared to run away. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Willow; she was pointing frantically at her heart then pointing at his.

  She’s right, he thought. Arpherius shook his head to try and clear it.

  ‘Wait,’ Arpherius shouted. ‘Spread out; get ready.’

  ‘Ready for what?’ Hallusâm yelled. ‘Did you not just hear? The dragon’s not coming.’

  ‘Are you out of your fucking mind?’ Lórkrond roared. ‘We’re only here as back up. Amrodan’s betrayed us.’

  ‘And we’ll deal with him later,’ Arpherius yelled. ‘Right now it’s just us and we have nowhere to run. If we don’t stand and fight this thing it’ll kill us all. This is it; this is where we take a stand. This is where the fightback begins.’

  Kröm’s glare settled on Arpherius. He roared and continued forward.

  Feelings of hatred and anger filled Arpherius’s mind. He was finally facing the monster that had raped his mother, the thing that had ensured that he spent most of life hiding from people, the thing that had caused him to be shadowless.

  ‘Willow,’ Arpherius shouted.

  Willow stepped forward, tightening the leather straps on a metal mask that covered the lower part of her face. It was shaped like a demon’s mouth, fangs lining its maw.

  Kröm advanced up the beach; the group formed a semicircle.

  As soon as Kröm was clear of the water, Willow filled her lungs with air. As the god drew back his trident, she let out a roar. The sonic blast shot forward striking the god.

  Hit by the intense wall of sound, Kröm dropped his weapon and put his gauntleted hands to his head, howling in pain.

  Willow continued her onslaught for as long as she could, intensifying the pitch until Kröm’s armour began to buckle under the strain of the blast. The tide was flung back and stones were shattering by the deadly cacophony being produced.

  Then, the roaring stopped. Willow collapsed to the ground, blood trickling from beneath her mask.

  ‘Get her back,’ Arpherius commanded.

  Trisidulous and Pandimonia grabbed Willow, dragging her up the beach and out of the reach of Kröm.

  ‘Hallusâm, Cymbatoriá,’ Arpherius shouted. ‘Attack.’

  Kröm bent down and reached for his trident.

  Hallusâm was the first to charge forward, his sword raised. Another identical figure appeared next to him; another materialised; then another. By the time Hallusâm reached Kröm he had nineteen illusions of himself all running around the god, darting back and forth, taunting him before jumping out of the way.

  Cymbatoriá pulled off her loosely stitched clothes. As she sprinted down the beach, her arms lengthened and feathers shot from them. Her hips became sunken and twisted, and tail feathers sprouted from her lower spine. Yellow ridges replaced the soft pink skin on her legs and feet, and her toes changed into sharp, coiled talons. As she reached Kröm, she took to the sky in the shape of a black hawk and began trying to distract the god from the air.

  Valan, Kurt, Lórkrond and Utan converged on the disorientated deity.

  Kurt ran through the crowd of illusionary Hallusâms, gripping his darconium battle-axe. He swung it as the god went to retrieve his trident, bringing it down on Kröm’s hand, between two of the metal plates in his gauntlet. The axe’s blade buried itself deep in the god, causing him to roar in pain and pull his hand from the ground.

  Meanwhile, Trisidulous and Pandimonia had pulled Willow further up the beach. Blood was dripping from Willow’s ears and a gurgling could be heard from under her mask.

  ‘I think she’s choking. Help me get her mask off,’ Pandimonia said.

  Unstrapping the mask, they saw that Willow was bleeding from her nose and that her mouth was filling with blood. Pandimonia turned her onto her left side. The blood emptied out on to the shingle then continued to drip steadily from her mouth.

  ‘She’s ruptured something.’ Trisidulous bent down to examine her. ‘If she doesn’t get help soon, she’ll die.’

  Lórkrond attempted to drive his sword into one of the chinks in the armour on the god’s heel. Despite thrusting with all his might the weapon failed to pierce the thick overlapping plates of Kröm’s sabaton, merely bending them.

  The god took up his weapon and began to move further up the beach. His gaze shifted back and forth at the multiple Hallusâms dashing about him and he attempted to stand on some of them, catching two and dispelling them.

  Utan powered across the beach and scaled Kröm’s leg as the god’s attention was diverted. He scurried around the side and climbed up onto the god’s back, chopping with a darconium cleaver in between the gorget and the helm in Kröm’s armour.

  The god reeled in agony. He tried to use his trident to dislodge Utan but each time he came close, Utan would clamber across his back plate and hack in a different location.

  Valan sprinted towards the floundering god. As he approached his top speed, he could see himself shimmer and flicker. By the time he had reached Kröm, he was invisible.

  Darting in and out of the colossal figure’s legs, Valan circled him as he looked for that one opportunity to land a telling blow. When the god bent down to snatch one of the illusionary Hallusâms, Valan seized his chance. Running in between Kröm’s legs, Valan drove his blade into the god’s wrist before yanking it out and continuing on without breaking stride.

  The god growled in pain as ichor oozed from a wound in his wrist, inflicted by an assailant he had not even seen.

  Valan continued circling, watching for the next opening.

  Arpherius also watched, poised to strike, as the rest of the group swarmed around Kröm. Cymbatoriá flew past his visor, screeching and trying to tear at his eyes with her talons but only finding his helmet. Hallusâm ran around him, slicing at his feet before running away, using his illusions as cover.

  As Kröm bellowed in pain, his black blood dripping from multiple cuts and wounds inflicted by his attackers, Arpherius decided that now was his chance.

  Time seemed to slow as he bolted across the beach. He weaved between Lórkrond and Kurt until he got a clear run. As the god took a step forward Arpherius somersaulted into the air, striking Kröm on the knee and forcing his sword through his armour.

  The god moved his left hand in Arpherius’s direction and, with time beginning to return to normal, Arpherius braced his feet against the god’s leg and pulled free his darconium blade.

  Falling onto the shingle, Arpherius held his shield close and rolled clear as one of Kröm’s feet came crashing down beside him, dispersing three of Hallusâm’s illusions.

  Weakened by his recent rape of a mortal woman, Kröm was heavily wounded and hadn’t even landed a blow. Arpherius knew that now was the time for Kröm to retreat.

  The hulking armoured figure backed off and made his way to the water’s edge.

  ‘Keltarä, don’t let him get away,’ several voices shouted.

  Keltarä stared at Kröm; taking a deep breath, she held out her hand and imagined gripping the god’s metal armour.

  The god was bigger than anything she had ever attracted and Keltarä felt her own body move in response to her power working, her feet sliding along the shingle. It took all her concentration to stop Kröm from getting to the water.

  Kröm slowed before coming to an abrupt halt. He dug his heels in and tried to force his way forward, his feet making furrows in the beach.

  Turning, he looked at Keltarä and let out a howl of rage. He swept his trident in front of him, dispelling another dozen illusions.

  ‘He’s banishing my decoys,’ Hallusâm shouted.

  ‘Don’t talk, he’ll know which one is the real you,’ Arpherius shouted.

  It was too la
te. The last of the illusions vanished.

  Kröm thrusted his trident. A look of pain and abject terror on his face, Hallusâm was skewered in the stomach and hoisted up into the air on the end of the trident-points. As he cried for help, Kröm pulled him from the end of his weapon and threw him to the ground.

  Arpherius winced as Hallusâm’s body was smashed upon the beach. Gritting his teeth he continued his attack, trying to find the blow that would bring down the god.

  Kröm had other ideas. He used the shaft of his trident to dislodge Utan, catching the creature with his polearm so that he fell to the ground.

  Kröm then swung his trident above his head and brought it down powerfully, catching Lórkrond. The stone man shattered with the force of the impact and pieces of him flew across the beach, some into the water.

  The sea god laughed. The battle was seemingly turning in his favour. He then roared in agony. A battle-axe was buried in his foot, its owner trying to remove it.

  Kröm snatched up his attacker.

  Kurt felt the god’s grip tighten and he struggled to break free, but even his strength was no match for a god’s. Held aloft, high above Kröm’s head, he saw his comrades battling below.

  This is it, he thought.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a red streak. It came from the hill by the bay, as fast as lightning, striking the god on the shoulder.

  The explosion ripped through Kröm’s armour, tearing off chunks of metal and sending the god reeling. He stumbled and dropped Kurt, his bellow of pain was louder than thunder.

  On the hill, hidden by a thicket, Yana peered through a fold-up telescope at the battle on the beach.

  ‘You got him,’ Yana cheered. ‘He dropped Kurt.’

  ‘Help me get this thing reloaded,’ Santhom replied.

  Taking a crank handle, Yana inserted it into the oversized mechanical crossbow and she and Santhom began the arduous task of winding back the string on the magnentium cross-piece.

  ‘She’s dying,’ Pandimonia said. ‘Do something.’

  ‘I only impersonate apothecaries,’ Trisidulous snapped. ‘That doesn’t mean I am one.’

  ‘If we don’t try something she’s going to die.’

  ‘Wait, look over there.’ Trisidulous pointed at Hallusâm.

  Hallusâm had a dark-blue glow. The light coalesced into translucent spheres which pushed their way free of his body. The spheres rose into the air, spiralling upwards and in different directions. One flew towards Willow, striking her on the chest. Trisidulous and Pandimonia watched as their friend’s body began to glow blue, infused with energy. The light shimmered for a few seconds before dying.

  Willow opened her eyes and sat up, spitting blood onto the beach.

  ‘Willow, we thought you were dead,’ Pandimonia said. ‘You and Hallusâm had the same god as a father. His death allowed you to live.’

  ‘If only there was some way she could tell us how she feels,’ Trisidulous said.

  ‘I feel fine.’ It was the first time Willow had spoken in over a decade.

  ‘He’s moving,’ Arpherius shouted.

  Kröm lurched forward, letting out a booming moan as he did.

  Utan bounded across the shingle and pounced onto Kröm’s back. Holding on with one hand, he brought down his meat cleaver onto the exposed area on Kröm’s shoulder where the Deathstrike Nine bolt had ripped away the armour. Kurt pulled his battle-axe from the god’s foot and swung it at his ankles, cutting through the barnacle-encrusted metal plates.

  Invisible to all, Valan ran around the swaying god and tried to catch a glimpse of somewhere he could land a blow. As he got to the rear of his enemy, Valan saw the opening that Lórkond had made with his sword. The armour was bent and the back of the ankle was exposed. It was black as pitch. Whether that was the colour of his skin or the ichor from his numerous wounds, Valan could not be sure, all he knew was that this was the opening for which he had been waiting.

  Charging at Kröm, he rammed the sword into the god’s heel. The darconium sword sliced the god’s tough skin. Kröm tried to shift his immense bulk onto his other leg. While he was leaning to one side, Cymbatoriá attacked from above, trying to drive him off balance. Kröm sought to catch her but teetered, almost stumbling.

  ‘Range?’

  ‘Around four hundred and fifty yards.’

  ‘Location?’

  ‘You have a clear shot at his back. Take it.’

  Santhom’s heart beat rapidly as she stared through the sights. She saw Kröm’s magnified image and moved her arm up until his back filled her view.

  Taking a deep breath, she squeezed the trigger.

  The stock thudded against her shoulder and a streak shot across the beach, leaving a trail.

  The bolt whistled through the air, the Rune of Impact on the tip glowing red as it came to life before striking Kröm in the back. As soon as the bolt hit its target, the rune unleashed its power. Kröm’s armour was ripped apart as the explosion blasted open the metal and tore at the god’s flesh. The sand was black with ichor.

  Kröm fell to his knees and slumped forward.

  The ground shook as the god toppled. Shingle and sand flew into the air and those who witnessed it could scarcely believe their eyes.

  A god had been felled by mortals.

  On all fours, heavily wounded and exhausted, Kröm tried to get to his feet. Arpherius saw his chance. Casting away his shield, he sprinted toward the god. Time slowed. A few yards from his foe, Arpherius leaped into the air. He brought the tip of his sword down on the god’s helmet. The darconium blade went through Kröm’s visor, burying itself in his head, right to the hilt, Arpherius let go of the sword and dropped to the ground, rolling as he hit the shale. As he got to his feet, time returned to its normal rate. He backed off.

  ‘Look,’ Kurt shouted.

  Kröm was motionless. Seconds passed. The sea god gave a low-pitched howl before crashing to the ground.

  Valan halted, visible once more.

  ‘Is he dead?’

  Bright light shone through Kröm’s armour. It intensified before coalescing into large spheres. The sea god’s armour began to crumple and buckle, filling the bay with the sound of screeching metal. The blue spheres rose into the air. They hovered there before flying off in different directions, one towards Arpherius.

  The sphere struck Arpherius’s chest, knocking him off his feet. As he lay on the beach, the light surrounded him and his body glowed blue as it became infused with the deity’s energy. Kröm’s essence flowed through Arpherius and his body crackled with power. He howled as arcane magic coursed through his veins and forced its way to his mind, causing him to go limp. The light shimmered for a few seconds before dying.

  Above them the storm ceased almost instantly and the clouds began to clear.

  ‘What happened?’ Keltarä asked.

  ‘Do we have to kill him now?’ Kurt enquired.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Keltarä said. ‘He’s moving.’

  Arpherius opened his eyes. He saw the others looking at him.

  ‘You all right?’ Kurt asked.

  ‘I feel like a god,’ Arpherius said. He got to his feet. Keltarä gasped and pointed behind him. He turned to see what they were looking at.

  At his feet, stretched out behind him on the sun-drenched beach, was his shadow.

  Epilogue

  Amrodan stood motionless at the edge of the pool, staring attentively into the faintly glowing dark-red liquid.

  ‘It is done,’ he whispered. ‘The first god has fallen. Your vengeance has begun.’

  Torches, fixed to the walls by wrought-iron holders, flickered briefly causing shadows to dance across the floor. Shadows that were cast from everything in the room, including the figure.

  The pool’s colour started to lighten until it was bright red. Ripples
formed at its centre, gently spreading outwards until reaching the edge.

  Amrodan narrowed his eyes and smiled, sensing that the pool was pleased with him.

  The rippling stopped and the brightness dimmed. The red colouration dissolved and was replaced with black. The pool lay still.

  Taking one last look Amrodan walked to the front doors of the temple, his limp gone, and pulled on a large metal lever. The room filled with the sound of stone grinding on stone as the huge doors slowly opened inwards. Light came flooding in.

  High above the cliff, the seagulls called to each other. Amrodan watched them from the temple steps.

  The birds’ calling turned to screeching as a black dragon descended from the sky. It banked left and circled the temple before landing on its hind legs and dropping on all four of them as it furled its wings. Dust and sand blew across the temple as the dragon came to rest. Tucking its leathery wings in, it approached the front doors and stopped just short of the steps. There was a high-pitched sound of rattling scales as it shook itself.

  Arching its neck, it dropped its head until it was level with Amrodan.

  ‘Do you like my shadow?’ Amrodan asked, turning around to show it off.

  The dragon’s nostrils flared.

  ‘The gods will not take this lightly,’ it snarled. ‘This act will provoke a response.’

  ‘I would expect nothing less.’ Amrodan grinned. ‘But answer me this: if there is a heavy price to pay, who are the gods going to come for? I am a simple monk. I have done nothing. The other mortals killed Kröm.’

  ‘And why was I omitted from the battle?’

  ‘I needed you to remain here; who else was going to protect me if they failed?’

  ‘What now of Arpherius and the others?’

  Amrodan walked down the steps.

  ‘He and that rabble have served their purpose. It is time to cut the apron strings, do you not think?’

  There was a look in the man’s eyes that the dragon had never seen. Where kindness and warmth had resided, there appeared only coldness.