Deadhouse Landing

The beasts closed from all sides. The largest was mostly grey, though with a white stomach. Female, her blue eyes shone like sapphires, and it appeared as if she limped from some battle. Another bore a darker grey pelt – an offspring? – and his eyes were mismatched, one being a similar blue, the other a golden yellow. The third’s pelt was all a scarred and tangled dirty yellow, its eyes dark, near black, while the last was a black so dark as to appear blue. Its eyes shone a rather alarming blood red.

Dancer said something over his shoulder to his companion then, which Sister of Cold Nights made out as, ‘Now would be a good time…’

She could not help but smile at this last bit of bravado before the end. At least these two wouldn’t shame themselves before being torn in two.

And yet … she kept a sidelong eye on Edgewalker. The ancient – some said the creator of Shadow itself – watched intently, a hand on his weapon’s grip, the other on the sheath, as if ready to draw and stride forward.

Strange, that. He’d never interfered before. Not once, when so many had fallen attempting to master Shadow.

A whisper came to her then. A story she’d heard long ago from a fellow Azathani. That Edgewalker had tired of his guardianship and had been searching for a worthy inheritor all this time.

She eyed the little mage now, wondering; could it really be?

The Dal Hon ancient – though not really an ancient, she saw, as her vision could penetrate his glamour – now fiddled with his fingers at his chest. It was as if he were playing a child’s game of cat’s cradle, but with nothing visible between his fingers save shadows. And to her increasing disbelief, ropes and tangled knots of said shadows now came slithering out of the deeper pools of murk about and lashed themselves tight round the legs of the four beasts.

She would have been dismissive of such efforts were they plain Meanas workings alone, but these carried the unmistakable essence of Elder Kurald Emurlahn; somehow, this mage has mastered both and now had at his command two sources of power to draw upon.

Yet even such unprecedented might was not enough. The eldritch beasts fought and yanked despite their countless bonds, still drawing ever closer to the two men. The potency being brought into existence in the square raised a pressure in the air, making it hard to draw breath. The very stones of the street cracked and burst, heaving and grinding. The rising intensity of the unveiling reminded her of exchanges she’d witnessed long ago, when Elders fought without any regard for the calamities they unleashed.

Even Agayla winced, a hand going to her chest as she panted for breath. Across the way, the old mage she’d met on the dock fainted but was held up by a Napan with him.

Still these ancient monsters could not be brought to the ground. Each struggled onward, wrapped in twisting cords of shadow, snarling and slathering, utterly intent upon tearing these two trespassers to bloody shreds. The little black-skinned mage at the centre of the storm now leaned forward, hands lowering, as if he were pushing something down into the ground before him, straining with redoubled effort.

A new, third source of power broke upon everyone like a striking waterfall and Agayla grunted at the shock of it. Sister of Cold Nights, however, recognized the source of this new puissance being drawn by the mage and was outraged.

She knew its colourings, its flavour – name it what you will – and she could not believe it. How can he touch this? She knew very well that that particular Wound had been sealed away. Forbidden. Unbroachable. She knew this because it was she and her brothers Draconus and K’rul who had sealed it away ages ago. All to heal the ancient crimes of the so-called High King. How could this one have possibly penetrated their wardings? Then she understood, and crossed her arms, almost snarling herself.

Shadow.Of course. Broken, it leaks everywhere and into everything. Is this your insight, little man?

Then she paused, wondering. Did you see this, K’rul? Is this why you sent me this way? Perhaps so. And so she eased her shoulders. It was not for her to interfere. Events must unfold. Only then, K’rul had warned, could she reach her goal.

The fearsome potency now bearing down upon the four hounds would have crushed buildings. Two collapsed amid their ropes and fetters of knotted shadow. The muzzles of these quickly became lashed in their magical bonds and they were yanked to their sides where they lay panting, eyes rolling.

As for the largest, the one mostly grey, with a white stomach, her eyes seemed to shine like blue stars now, and she stood quivering in a raging fury, upright, refusing to kneel. The mage’s partner, the lean one who moved so gracefully, approached, and raised a knife for the kill.