Shadowless

by Randall McNally

  The inn’s sign swung in the wind. The door below it opened and a drunken man, barely able to walk, stumbled out before falling face-first into a puddle at the bottom of the steps. Arpherius stood perplexed, looking at the man as he crawled about on all fours in the rain, singing at the top of his voice. He had never seen anyone act in such a bizarre way.

  Looking through the open doorway, he saw tables full of people talking and drinking.

  He took a deep breath and walked in.

  At several of the tables, men were smoking pipes emitting a wispy grey smoke that gave the air a heavy odour. There were smells and sounds he had never experienced before; accents that he could not place and people eating foodstuffs he didn’t even recognise. He gawked at the brass fittings around the bar and at the paintings on the walls.

  ‘Arpherius?’

  He turned towards the voice, his hand instinctively shooting beneath his cloak, ready to draw his sword. A ginger-haired barmaid, with blue eyes and freckles, stood looking at him.

  ‘Your friend is waiting for you in the snug; follow me,’ she said, turning and walking off.

  Arpherius had never spoken to a woman before. He had seen women in the pedlar groups when he went to trade with them, but they would keep their distance from him. He followed the barmaid; she left a sweet scent wherever she walked.

  The girl led him through the bar to the far end of the building, where it was quieter. People were huddled in twos or threes around tables in alcoves, dimly lit by candles. To the right was a door. She smiled and opened it, beckoning him forward. Arpherius’s eyes darted everywhere like an animal that suspects a trap. He looked into the snug and saw a black-robed figure sitting at a table in front of a fire. The figure was hunched over and had its hood raised.

  It did not cast a shadow.

  After his initial amazement, Arpherius gathered his thoughts and breathed a sigh of relief.

  At least it is not a trap, he thought.

  He walked in and sat down at the table. The robed figure nodded to the barmaid who then left, closing the door behind her. Caution got the better of Arpherius and he moved his fingers slowly under his cloak and rested them on the hilt of sword.

  ‘That will not be necessary, Arpherius,’ the man said. ‘I mean you no harm.’

  The voice was that of an old man by Arpherius’s reckoning: gravelly and hoarse. Arpherius raised an eyebrow but complied, putting both hands on the table. Although it was in his nature to be suspicious of people he did not know, he sat back and waited to hear this stranger out.

  ‘I have waited a long time for this,’ the robed figure declared, staring into the fire. ‘I cannot quite believe the moment is finally here.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Arpherius replied.

  ‘Amrodan. Brother Amrodan.’

  ‘How do you know who I am?’

  ‘I know everything about you, Arpherius. I know you have been alive for over fifty summers, yet you look like a young man, of barely twenty. I know you were raised by a man in a tower overlooking the Forgotten Sea. I know why it is that you stand in the midday sun looking down at the ground and why there is no shadow. And I know what happens to you and those around you when you feel threatened,’ Amrodan said, still gazing into the fire.

  ‘How? How do you know all this?’ Arpherius asked, narrowing his eyes.

  ‘How I know is not important,’ Amrodan said, turning to face Arpherius. ‘The fact that I do know, is.’

  Amrodan pulled back his cowl to reveal his face.

  ‘You wake in the middle of the night and feel that there is something more to life. You yearn for answers. Answers that no one else can give you. There is a voice in your mind, Arpherius, it tells you that something is coming, it calls out to you in dreams, telling you to fulfil your destiny, a destiny you barely know exists. The voice is getting louder, is it not?’

  Amrodan leaned forward and looked Arpherius in the eye.

  ‘What destiny?’ Arpherius asked, his head spinning.

  All his life he had not been allowed to talk about who or what he was; now here, sitting in front of him, was someone like him, someone shadowless. Amrodan was willing to openly talk about who they were, and how they came to be, and maybe had the answers he wanted.

  The door of the snug opened and the barmaid came through with two piping-hot bowls, containing what appeared to be stew, and two mugs. She put them down on the table and smiled. Amrodan took two gold coins from the pocket of his robes and slid them across the wooden table to her.

  ‘Keep the change,’ he said.

  The barmaid pocketed the coins and left, the same sweet scent wafting after her.

  Arpherius stared at where the barmaid had been, his mouth open. A strange feeling of excitement came over him; his cheeks felt flushed and his pulse had suddenly started to race. His mouth had become dry and his thoughts were focused on the girl who had just left the snug. Arpherius’s concentration was broken by Amrodan’s hand waving in front of his face.

  ‘Are you still with me?’ Amrodan said, slowly.

  ‘What is that smell?’ Arpherius muttered, more to himself that anyone else.

  ‘Perfume. You do know what perfume is, yes?’

  ‘Of course I know what perfume is,’ Arpherius stated.

  What the hell is perfume? he thought.

  ‘You look hungry, Arpherius. I know I am. Eat.’

  The two ate their meal without speaking, just glancing at each other. Arpherius had not eaten a proper meal in weeks, and sitting at the table reminded him of the suppers he used to have with Barranos. Memories of his uncle came flooding back, and he felt tears prickling the backs of his eyes.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Amrodan enquired.

  ‘No,’ Arpherius snapped. ‘It is the steam, nothing more.’

  As he ate, he watched Amrodan, curious about what he knew and what he was capable of.

  Should I trust him? he thought. He has yet to give me any cause not to. What would Barranos say if he were here?

  ‘You told me that I had a voice inside me, asking questions,’ Arpherius said as he finished his meal, sliding the bowl away from him. ‘You are right. I have so many questions that I do not know where to begin. Can you answer them?’

  ‘Let me tell you a tale first. Then, if what I say does not answer your questions, I will be happy to tell you whatever you need to know.’ Amrodan took a gulp of water.

  ‘In the north-eastern realm of Delathorn is a place called Rith. Larger than a hamlet yet too small to be called a village, it is hidden from intruders and cut off from the rest of the realm. Perched high on the cliffs overlooking the Sea of Wrath, it is inaccessible from the north and the east. Beside this sleepy little enclave is a monastery and a temple, in which live an order of monks. These monks do not align themselves to any particular god or religion. This monastery, some say, is a retreat for those who feel they do not fit in anywhere else.

  ‘Over six hundred years ago a baby boy was left on the steps of this monastery. The child was like no other the monks had seen as it was without a shadow. Some of them said that the gods were trying to trick them and that it should be killed, some said that it should be taken far from the monastery where it could do no harm.

  ‘In the end, Brother Makiaya, the head of the order at the time, overruled them all and kept the boy hidden in the monastery. They raised him and inducted him into their order as if he were one of their own, knowing that should the gods find out they were harbouring him they would destroy the monastery and everyone in it.

  ‘Such was their acceptance of the danger they were incurring and their possible fate that they gave up their brown robes in favour of black ones: the colour of death. They knew that, by allowing this child to live, they had cursed their order forever. That child was me, Arpherius. I, like you, was born without a shadow; I am a half-breed, part man, part deity.
The god that fathered me will one day come to kill me.’

  Arpherius stared at Amrodan, stunned by his candidness.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘The monastery that I grew up in is ancient, Arpherius,’ Amrodan said. ‘It has many old manuscripts and tomes. One of these manuscripts, far older than the others, contains a prophecy. That prophecy tells of a man from the south who will be born without a shadow, who will be more powerful that the others of his kind, and who will lead a rebellion against the gods. That man is you.’

  Arpherius burst out laughing; a nervous laugh that was higher in pitch than his normal one.

  ‘Me? You want me to lead a rebellion? You want me to kill the gods?’

  There was a long silence. Arpherius sat staring at Amrodan, as though waiting for the punchline to some less-than-humorous anecdote.

  ‘I want you to bring about an Age of Men.’

  ‘Wait. You are serious?’

  Amrodan nodded.

  ‘I do not know where you have got your information from but you have been reading the wrong books,’ Arpherius stated. ‘I am not some leader and I am not some god killer.’

  ‘You are the most powerful of all of us,’ Amrodan stated. ‘More of a god’s blood flows through your veins than anyone else’s. You are the only one who would stand a chance against one of these titans.’

  ‘You are out of your mind.’

  ‘Am I really? You run along a five-mile stretch of beach every day without losing a single bead of sweat, you can travel for days without rest or sleep, without feeling fatigue, and you cut through armour and bone as if it were paper.’

  ‘What the…have you been watching me? How the hell do you know so much about what I can do?’

  Amrodan was about to answer when the barmaid entered the snug and cleared away the bowls and cutlery. When she had left Amrodan leaned closer and spoke in a hushed tone.

  ‘The temple that I told you about has a pool with mystical powers. This pool sends me visions in the form of dreams. That is how I know so much about you. That is how I was able to find, not just you, but others like you. Like us.’

  ‘You have seen others like us?’

  ‘Yes, they are hiding all over the Northern Realms, ready to emerge when the time is right. They have agreed to take up arms and help you. You will not be alone.’

  ‘My uncle told me there would most likely be others,’ Arpherius said. ‘Do they also have powers?’

  ‘They have abilities; some more useful than others, but none as powerful as yours.’

  ‘What can you do?’

  Amrodan rolled up the sleeve of his robe to the elbow, and put his hand in the fire. He rotated it slowly as the flames licked around his arm and wrist. They caressed his fingers and rippled up his palm for over a minute.

  Arpherius looked at Amrodan, he had his eyes closed and was muttering something under his breath. He withdrew his hand from the fire and opened his eyes before reaching for Arpherius’s mug of water. The water within suddenly began to bubble and hiss as steam was given off. Arpherius leaned back as boiling water spewed from the mug over Amrodan’s hand onto the table and down to the floor. Amrodan dried his hands on his robes.

  ‘I can absorb then reemit the power of the elements, hardly the type of ability that would be helpful against a god,’ Amrodan said. ‘I could stand around and protect you from any fires that may break out, or freak lightning strikes, but that is all. Besides, I am too old to be much use in a fight.’

  ‘And I am too young,’ Arpherius snapped. ‘You have got the wrong person.’

  ‘Then what will you do? Keep running? Hide? If the Shadow Watchers do not kill you then the gods will catch up with you eventually.’

  Amrodan ran his finger through the water that sat on the table, moving it towards the table edge before it dripped on to the floor.

  ‘It would be the best way of avenging your mother,’ Amrodan said nonchalantly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Killing the god who forced himself upon your mother in such a fit of callous lust. The pain and suffering she endured at the hands of this monster. You must be desperate for revenge?’

  ‘Well, yes. I mean, I am.’

  ‘What better vengeance could there be than to kill Kröm himself?’

  Feelings of anger began stirring inside Arpherius. The story Barranos had told him of what happened to his mother on that fateful night pushed itself to the forefront of his mind.

  ‘How do you know a god can even be killed?’

  ‘Oh they can be killed. But you would need help. For hundreds of years I have been doing everything in my power to locate and contact the shadowless. I have uncovered people all over the Northern Realms who are willing to help us. There are only a few of them but all they need is a sign and they will stand with you against Kröm?’

  ‘And you believe that together we can slay Kröm?’

  ‘It has taken hundreds of years, but I have finally discovered enough of us with the right powers to bring a god to its knees. But it all depends on you, Arpherius; you are the one that is different from the rest of us, the one the prophecy speaks of, the one who unites us all. You are the Shadowmancer.’

  Arpherius sat looking into the fire, his blue eyes almost glowing in the dim light. A sudden weight of expectation had been thrust upon his shoulders. It was a feeling that did not sit well with him.

  ‘Tell me everything that this manuscript says.’

  ‘The prophecy tells of a shadowless child who grows to lead his people in an uprising against the gods. For thousands of years the gods have been sowing their power in mortal women and then harvesting it later when the resultant child matures, that is how they get stronger. This text gives an account of one of our kind who takes a stand and fights back, someone who can slow the very passage of time and regains his shadow. The Shadowmancer.’

  Arpherius glanced up at Amrodan. Sullen thoughts of his mother and Barranos were still prominent.

  ‘Who are these people that are willing to stand with me? What are their powers?’

  ‘I have known many people like us, Arpherius. Individuals that I have tracked down and tried to rally to the cause. Most have agreed to do whatever they can, standing up against these things when necessary. But through the years they have been hunted down, killed by either the gods themselves or their followers or the Shadow Watchers. Now I only know of a select few and I have sworn never to speak of them or where they may be hiding. The walls have ears.’

  ‘How do we find Kröm?’

  ‘The gods do not live in our world, they dwell in a realm somewhere between it and the next. Most of the time they are merely spirits, intangible fragments of an incorporeal being,’ Amrodan said.

  ‘There are a lot of big words there. I just need to know where I can find him.’ Arpherius scowled.

  Amrodan sat back and rubbed his goatee beard.

  ‘These things cannot be harmed while they are in their own world. But in order for them to interact with anything in our world they have to become tangible: solid, if you like. Their form can change when they enter into our realm; they can become a man, a beast, even a rock. But when they are summoned to our world, not of their own free will, then they have to take their natural form; that of a heavily armoured, twenty-five-foot-tall man.’

  ‘And that is when we need to kill them, right?’

  ‘Wrong. They are at their weakest straight after they have mated with a mortal woman. If we find out when one of these attacks is going to take place, and we can summon the god directly after, then it should be in a weak enough state for you and the others to kill it.’

  ‘And you have found a way of summoning Kröm, no doubt.’

  Amrodan smiled and folded his arms.

  ‘It just so happens I have got someone in the city of Thanatüs, getting me the scroll
to summon him, right now.’

  ‘So when am I meant to be fighting this thing?’

  ‘Oh, in about three years.’

  ‘Well, that will give me plenty of time to… Wait. Did you say three years?’

  ‘Yes, I did. Three years should be enough time for you to complete your training. I need you to learn to think before you learn to fight.’

  ‘I can fight,’ Arpherius declared.

  ‘You can kill; there is a difference. Catching a couple of Shadow Watchers off-guard and slaughtering an overweight priest does not make you a fighter.’

  Arpherius folded his arms and frowned.

  Amrodan pointed at Arpherius. ‘This attitude will be the first thing to go. This is not a game. When Kröm comes at you, it will be with the force of an avalanche, and hit you with the power of a tidal wave. It will be a god swinging for you, not some half-drunk guard who hasn’t seen a proper meal in six months. Do you understand?’

  Gritting his teeth, Arpherius nodded.

  ‘Right now you are too impulsive, reckless even. I need to have you focused. We are only going to get one shot at this, Arpherius; everything has to be exactly right. If any of the details are even the slightest bit out, then it could spell death for all of us.’

  ‘Fine. I understand,’ Arpherius said quietly. ‘What do you need me to do?’

  ‘I need you to find and stay with three people. Dusa Kíranic lives in the town of Deepmarsh in Varahil. You will learn about the Northern Realms from her. She will teach you the history of each kingdom, its people, and its wars and disputes. There is a big world out there; I want you to learn everything you can about it. One day the information might save your life.

  ‘After that you must travel to Serrinyth in the realm of Kankulēsis and seek out Rurathal Vak. He has agreed to train you in the darker arts of evasion, trickery and deception. There is a lot depending on your survival; I need you to be able to get yourself out of trouble as quickly as you get into it. Pay particular attention to his unarmed fighting techniques, there will be times when you have to kill and you won’t always have a sword in your hand.