Devil, Aoife whispered. Demon.
The creature crouched low, mist wrapping around it.
The growl grew louder, deeper.
The air quivered.
Orm’s legs trembled.
Green flames wavered.
The creature pounced.
It launched itself at their wall of protection, and the wall was no more. The flames darkened and splintered apart as the creature shot through them, and small balls of fire were scattered throughout the street. They burned weakly in the mist’s oppressive gloom, little mystical candles here and there.
The creature barrelled into the group, knocking them asunder, throwing them to the ground.
Nessa landed on her back, the breath knocked out of her, her head slamming against the cobbled street.
Her ears rang like church bells. Her breaths were whispery gasps.
She groaned and rolled onto her side. Someone was nearby, swaying on their knees as they struggled to get to their feet. Hunter perhaps, or maybe Heimaey? It was too dark for her to tell. The mist swarmed around them. Without the barrier of mystical fire to keep it at bay, the mist had claimed their bubble of former safety as its own. There was no sanctuary. There was no safety.
Nessa pushed herself up onto shaking arms and knees. Aoife’s encouragements, her orders, were strong in Nessa’s ears. Her vision wavered. The world spun. Nessa sucked in a deep breath, trying to push back the rising wave of nausea, and peered into the gloom. Amongst the heavy waves of mist and the tiny spheres of burning light, she perceived the shapes of the others. Some were close, others not so. It was near impossible to tell who was who.
What Nessa did know, though, was that the creature had vanished.
Nessa scrambled to her feet, fear making her strong. Her nausea and trembles were forgotten. Can you see it? Nessa asked. Has it gone?
It won’t be gone until it’s tasted blood, Aoife told her. It’s been summoned. It won’t leave until it’s had its sacrifice, a payment of sorts.
How do you know that? Nessa scrambled over to the person closest to her, half-tripping over herself in her haste. She recognised the individual as Orm as she dropped down beside him, bruising her knees on the cobbles. He was sprawled out on his back, his eyes closed and his face peppered with sweat.
It was mentioned somewhere in the grimoire.
I don’t remember reading that.
That’s because you barely gave that section a second glance.
Oh dear.
Nessa laid a hand on Orm’s shoulder, shaking him, trying to rouse him. They didn’t have much time before the monster returned. Nessa’s eyes searched the street, looking for any sign of sinister shadows in the gloom and for any sign of Hunter.
The mist was thick, dense. Nessa could only make out hazy shapes in its silvery haze. Scattered throughout the street, barely discernible in the shallow light, the others were either standing or on their knees, unsteady and in shock. Orm was the only one unconscious. He must have expended too much energy with his magics. His body was unable to bear the effort taken to battle against the dark forces.
Wake Orm, Aoife instructed, her tone hard and urgent, grab Hunter and get your skinny arse out of there. Right now!
But what about the others? What about Heimaey and the twins?
Not to sound completely heartless, but leave them.
That sounds completely heartless.
You barely know them. Sometimes you have to accept that you can’t save everyone. Help Hunter and Orm, and hope that the others can defend themselves.
Ah…
Orm groaned. Whatever else Nessa was going to say vanished. She leaned over him, shaking his shoulders until his head lolled from side to side. Blindly, he swatted at her, moaning something that sounded like “duck auf”. His face held a sickly pallor, but Nessa couldn’t be sure if that was just because of the balls of lingering fire—ghost lamps in the mist—that were tinged green with the residue of his magic.
Orm’s eyelids flickered open as a charge in the air grew, heavy and static. Alive. Nessa had felt it a couple of times before. She knew that something was coming.
There was no warning. No stirring of air or footsteps. Something grabbed the back of Nessa’s dress, hurling her upright, lifting her off the ground. Her dress’ collar dug into her throat, cutting off her air, choking her. Nessa scratched frantically at her neck, at her dress, fingers scrabbling to alleviate the pressure. Her legs kicked out wildly, searching for purchase, for relief.
Whoever, whatever, held Nessa tossed her aside with little effort, like she was nothing. For a heart-stopping moment, she was airborne; then she landed on the ground with a sickening thud, momentum sending her rolling until she fetched up against a wall. Gasping for breath, one hand wrapped around her bruised throat, Nessa pushed herself upright, sitting with her back pressed against stone bricks, her body singing with pain and terror.
A shadow detached itself from the gloom, black and sinister, its red eyes alight with a malicious gleam. It prowled towards Nessa, joints moving with inhuman fluidity, its four legs long and thin, three-toed paws tipped with vicious-looking talons. A low growl erupted from its long, dog-like snout, its lips pulling back to reveal multiple rows of razor-sharp teeth. The creature stalked over to her, pausing frightfully close, one of its forelegs almost brushing against her out-stretched foot.
Nessa cringed as the creature bent down, lowering its lupine head, sniffing at the toe of her boot.
Don’t move, Aoife instructed tightly, voice fearful and pained. Don’t. Move.
Nessa didn’t have to be told twice. She didn’t need to be told at all. Her body was frozen. She was stuck in place, unable to twitch a muscle.
Don’t even breathe. It doesn’t see with its eyes. Not like you and I do, at least.
Nessa didn’t believe it. The idea was ludicrous. What would have eyes that couldn’t see? As the creature grew ever closer, scenting her knee, a foreleg coming to rest on either side of her legs, Nessa realised that Aoife might be right. The creature’s eyes, Nessa saw, were nothing but deep pits devoid of anything but a glowing vapour that swirled around deep inside its body.
That wasn’t the most alarming thing about the creature’s anatomy. Not by far.
It was a thing built of nightmares and darkness, a monster constructed from people’s worst fears.
Its form shifted and rippled as it moved, parts of it vanishing and reappearing in a blink of an eye. That’s how it moved with such strange, soundless grace, Nessa came to understand. It wasn't so much walking but rearranging its limbs in the illusion of motion. It could shape itself at will, not bound by the constraints of flesh and bone. It was like Frankenstein’s monster, a thing that had the features of several different beasts merged into one. Some were identifiable, others not.
An upturned snout sniffed her foot, her knee. Leaning forwards, it sniffed at Nessa’s cheek. Nessa trembled as hot breaths fluttered across her face. Puff…puff…puff… She half-expected the monster to lunge at her throat, needle-like teeth ripping and tearing.
Nessa held her breath, and through the bond, she felt Aoife doing the same; she felt Aoife’s despair at not being able to get there quickly enough. No matter how fast she flew, Aoife wouldn’t be able to cover the amount of distance from her hideaway in The Three Sisters and get to Nessa before…before…
In this despair, alongside the gnawing frustration, something changed between them. Their bond, it grew and strengthened, the cord tying their souls to one another’s thickening and contracting. They were bound more tightly than ever before. Beneath her arm warmer, hidden from sight, Nessa’s Rider’s Mark shimmered with a purple sheen, and far in the mountains, the breast of a young dragon began to shine, scales twinkling like stars.
Together as one, their hearts beat in a synchronised dance.
Surety and power flooded through Nessa’s veins. Her senses became heightened: her vision sharp and clear, and her hearing acute, sensitive to even the smallest of s
ounds. And her mind…her mind was altered, expanding to new heights and depths, growing in ways that didn’t seem possible. It became unfathomable; her mind playing host to an abundance of ancient knowledge passed down through the memories of generations. Nessa’s consciousness had expanded beyond the confines of her mind, merging with Aoife’s in a way that was dizzying and euphoric.
Two bodies, one soul.
One mind.
One will.
Nessa breathed out, her pent-up breath released as calmness settled over her. She raised her arm, holding out her hand, and time slowed down.
Nessa saw everything in a different light. It was like a purple filter had settled over her eyes. The sense of urgency had gone, as had her fear. Nessa no longer sat cowering before the monster of nightmares. She pressed the palm of her hand against its snout, shadows and dark mist shifting to form a strange imitation of skin beneath her fingers. It snorted as a shiver crawled over its body, and for a split second, Nessa saw something beneath its darkness: a different being, an entity born of moonlight. There was another side to the monster, one of benevolence and life. It had been hidden, buried by a deep and profound loathing, an ancient hatred. Its light was smothered.
Her glimpse within the monster vanished as a rolling wave of rage and a burst of pain flowed through her palm, cruising up her arm. The monster reared back, an unearthly howl sounding from its maws. The connection, the brief understanding between them, was severed.
Nessa clamped her hands over her ears, her eardrums screaming, threatening to burst. Heimaey stood over the monster, standing between it and her, pressing something against its forehead. So enraptured with the creature’s other side, Nessa hadn’t noticed him emerge from the mist.
It was a battle of wills between Heimaey and the shadow monster. The latter was trying to break away, writhing in agony; the former was struggling to keep whatever he held against the monster in place, matching it step for step as it retreated. Heimaey backed the monster into the middle of the mist-shrouded street, the last of the lingering balls of green flames doing little to illuminate their struggling forms. The monster’s howl dwindled into a pitiful whine and it collapsed, its long legs buckling.
“Orm?” Heimaey called, crouched over the creature. “If you have any fire left in you, now might be a nice time to summon it.”
Two shapes ambled out of the gloom, moving to stand beside Heimaey. Orm’s arm was thrown around Hunter’s shoulder, and Hunter seemed to be supporting much of his weight. Nessa noticed that even in the gloom, Orm appeared drawn and pale, his eyes open but unfocused. He was mumbling, lips shaping words that Nessa couldn’t hear over the monster’s gasping moans, and he raised a hand. Clutched in his fist was a dagger, the sharp edge glinting with spectral fire.
Nessa sat forwards, a shout rising in her throat, but she was too late. The blade was driven down with purpose, sinking deep into the monster’s rippling flesh. She wouldn’t get to see its other side again.
“Back to the Void with you,” Hunter hissed. “Devil.”
One second the monster was there. The next, it was simply gone like it had never been. But it had. It had been there and it had been alive, and now…now it was gone, and Nessa felt its loss deep in her bones. And what a terrible loss it was. A light had been extinguished that eve. A star lost forever.
The mist churned and swelled around the group, swirling wildly. It darkened and blotted out the faint light of Orm’s lingering fireballs. There was a yell, a shout, as the all-consuming darkness fell upon the street. It was pitch black. It was a frightful void. There was a whisper, a sigh in the air, and then a wind came, hard and fast, roaring with brutal intensity. Nessa hunkered down against the wall, her spine grinding against the stone, and squeezed her eyes shut as her hair whipped against her face.
Like the monster, the mist was there one second and gone the next.
Stillness settled over the street, a peaceful silence.
Soft light bloomed, caressing Nessa’s eyelids with a gentle kind of hope. She was hesitant to open her eyes, not quite believing that it was over, fearful that it was just an illusion, something born from wishful thinking. At Aoife’s urging, Nessa peered through tangles of dark hair.
Heimaey and the others were crouched low, still hunkering down from the wind that was now gone. All except Orm, who was sat on the ground looking like he had been dropped. He made no move to stand as the others rose uncertainly to their feet, and Nessa was likewise inclined to stay as she was too. The surety, the inner calm that had filled her veins with power and strength, had left her, slipping away. The bond between Nessa and Aoife reverted to how it had been before, the deepness lightening, lifting. The withdrawal of such power left Nessa shaking and feeling weak and diminished, and a little faint.
What was all that about?
I… Aoife was at a loss for words. I’m not quite sure, but I think that we somehow joined together. I think I gave you a bit of myself. My strength became yours for a moment.
So that’s what it’s like to be a dragon? Nessa mused, bewildered. No wonder you like to lord over us how superior you are compared to mere mortals. I know I would.
Careful there, my little Rider, Aoife warned, although Nessa could tell that she was faintly amused. I may take offence, and you won’t like me when I’m offended.
Oh, will I not? Nessa chuckled to herself. She swiped back her wild hair and saw that her hand trembled. Humour fled. What happened and why? I don’t understand how. I just can’t wrap my head around it.
I can only speculate at this point, but I believe it’s an instinct of ours, built into the bond to keep one another safe if we are apart, a safety mechanism if one of us is in great danger. I presume that, since you were in great peril, the bond snapped our souls together so that you were able to access a measure of my power and strength. That way you would stand a better chance of defending yourself.
Is it likely to happen again?
Since we’ve unlocked the ability, I’d imagine that we would find it easier to re-establish it at will.
How handy.
We won’t be doing it left, right and centre. It’s probably something best saved for emergencies. Besides, you had better not get yourself into a situation where it’s required again if you know what’s good for you.
Bah humbug.
Bo and Luca joined the little gang, and together they made a loose circle around the spot where the monster had vanished, a ring of young, bedraggled men with wild, windswept hair and rumpled tunics. One of the twins tilted his head, considering, and stepped forwards, jumping a couple of times before inspecting the cobbles beneath his feet like he didn’t quite believe they were solid. It was a good thing they were, otherwise he’d be joining the monster wherever it had been sent.
“Nice trick,” the other twin said appraisingly, watching his twin’s antics with a quirked brow before turning to Orm. “What’s with the fire and the knife of fire,” he then waved a hand at Heimaey, “and whatever you did.”
Heimaey grinned and held up his hand. Loosely twined around his fingers was a length of rawhide. A small pendant, a talisman of sorts, dangled from the end. Nessa could just about make out the details from where she sat, the round, coin-like shape glinting silver in the street’s light.
“That’s a sigil,” she said, unable to stop herself.
Heimaey looked at it fondly. “Old lady Nag gave it to me a few months ago. Said it would save my hide.”
“Well, it certainly did that,” a twin said dryly. Nessa thought that the words came from Luca, who was generally the more sensible one. Generally. Not always. “And then some.”
“It’s a seal,” Orm added, peering curiously at the pendant from where he sat. “To be more precise, it’s for Heīm, the Harbinger of Darkness. It’s his personal one, if I’m correct.”
“Heīm,” Nessa mused. “He’s one of the Atheals, isn't he? One of the nine high lords.”
“Indeed he is,” Orm turned to her, his tired eyes sudd
enly bright with interest. A healthy amount of colour was already returning to his naturally golden skin. “How do you know that?”
Conscious of the five pairs of eyes on her, and a dragon sitting in the back of her mind, Nessa just about managed to form a coherent response. “I…ah…read it in a book.” And Pharawynn’s talked about them a lot, she continued silently to herself, needing to confess her secrets in one way or another. Otherwise, they would build up inside of her, and she would be lost in them, lost in a maze of deceptions and lies.
“A book?” Orm asked, contemplative.
Nessa nodded. Aoife didn’t say anything, probably assuming that she was alluding to their secret grimoire.
“Huh.”
“Well,” Hunter laughed, “maybe we should read more, then.”
Orm smirked. “Maybe.”
Nessa thought that was unlikely to happen any time soon.
“Talking about maybes,” Luca said, looking at Heimaey. “Maybe you should apologise to old lady Nag. You know, for calling her a superstitious, old hag when she was looking out for you.”
“Let’s not get too hasty there, my good fellow.” Heimaey slipped the leather cord over his head, the pendant settling against his chest, the silver bright against his dark clothing. “What happened could have been nothing more than pure coincidence.”
“Yeah,” Bo chuckled, pausing his attempts to follow the monster into the void. “That totally looked coincidental.”
Heimaey shrugged. “I’m not admitting that the old hag was right without irrefutable proof.”
“Don’t suppose my input would sway you?” Orm asked, grinning. “Because she was right.”
“That would be a firm no,” Heimaey said as he tucked the pendant beneath his woollen shirt. “But your input might be nice when I start educating your little friend there in the fine art of self-defence.” His next words were aimed at Nessa. “If there’s ever a devil like that standing over you again, please employ another tactic rather than trying to pet the damn thing.”
“Pet it?” Nessa all but spluttered. “I wasn’t trying to pet it.”
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