by D. P. Prior
But all Shader could do was watch in despair as the creature grabbed at the Monas around the Ipsissimus’s neck and Callixus moved in for the kill.
***
‘ain, help me,’ Callixus prayed over and over again. ‘Ain, help me.’
He rushed towards the Ipsissimus with the thoughts of Sektis Gandaw echoing through his mind. ‘Kill him! Bring me the Monas!’
Ikrys had got there first, but still Callixus was compelled. How could Ain forgive him for this? How could he atone for the slaying of the ruler of the Templum?
Ikrys ripped the Monas from the Ipsissimus’s neck and raised his tail to strike.
‘Ain, help me!’
‘A cigarette, a cigarette, a cigarette…’
‘Doctor? Is that you?’
‘Callixus?’ said the voice of Cadman. It sounded thin and wispy. ‘Gandaw must be distracted. Good gracious, I can see through your eyes! I thought I’d never see beyond this test tube.’
‘Doctor,’ Callixus said. ‘I need your help. Please!’
‘I think he’s noticed me! There’s so little time. Find me, one day, if you can,’ Cadman pleaded. ‘It’s dark here and I’m afraid. Once more, Callixus, I release you. Remember me…’ Cadman’s voice receded like a distant memory and suddenly Sektis Gandaw’s resumed. Only, he didn’t seem to have realized what Cadman had done.
Shackles fell away from the former Grand Master and he sped straight for Ikrys. As the creature’s tail darted towards the Ipsissimus, Callixus’ black sword swept down and severed its barb. Ikrys screamed and dropped the Monas. With savage fury, the gargoyle pounced at Callixus, talons cutting where no mortal weapon could harm the wraith. Callixus tried to make room to swing his sword, but Ikrys was too fast, too ferocious. The gargoyle grappled with him as if his body were flesh, bit into his neck with venomous fangs. Callixus screamed and his sword fell to the ground. Ikrys’s hands fixed on either side of the wraith’s helm and forced Callixus to gaze into swirling black eyes.
‘No!’ Callixus cried as a molten river appeared around him.
‘Taste the Abyss, spectre,’ Ikrys said. ‘For that is your new home.’
Flames gushed from the magma, which squelched like quicksand, tugging at Callixus’ spirit.
‘No!’ he screamed again.
But then the flames consumed him.
***
Rhiannon snatched up the black blade and swung with all her might. The gargoyle screeched and flapped into the air, gouts of black blood spilling from its side. The Ipsissimus stood petrified, his face the colour of death. He merely stared at the gilt Monas lying at his feet. Rhiannon lunged for it, but the gargoyle was quicker, slapping her aside with its wings. She thrust with the sword, but it swayed away and raked her shoulder with its talons. Her arm went cold and she switched the sword to her left hand. She couldn’t let him take the Monas. Not now. Not after all the sacrifices.
The gargoyle made a play for it, but Rhiannon jabbed it back. Still the Ipsissimus did nothing. Footsteps were pounding up from behind, but Rhiannon didn’t dare to look. The gargoyle swiped at her face, she ducked, but then its other hand grabbed her sword arm and shook the blade from her grasp. She spun and aimed a punch at its head, but it twisted her wrist and threw her to the ground. With one hand it claimed the Monas, and with the other it gripped her throat, forcing her to stare into its hellish eyes. Rhiannon twisted her head to the side, but it tightened its grip. She was choking. Choking—
Something cannoned into the gargoyle, knocking it to its back. Rhiannon rolled and saw Shader atop the creature, trying to find a way through its flailing hands. It smothered Shader with its wings, knocking the gladius from his grasp. Shader threw a punch that snapped the gargoyle’s head back, but the creature dislodged him with a whack from the stump of its tail. Rhiannon picked up the black sword again and took a swipe as the gargoyle flapped into the air. It tucked his legs out of the way of her blow and sped off towards the far end of the Homestead.
Shader was up in an instant and retrieved his gladius. With fury in his eyes he turned on the Ipsissimus.
‘You did nothing!’ he raged. ‘Nothing!’
Rhiannon tried to touch him, tried to share in his despair, but Shader shrugged off her advance and ran towards the ridge where the liche that had once been Dr Cadman awaited Ikrys with open arms wreathed in amber fire.
There were tears streaking the Ipsissimus’s face, but Rhiannon couldn’t go to him; couldn’t risk another rejection of her touch.
Something tugged her robe from behind and she turned to see Sammy gazing up at her, his face filthy, eyes blank and distant. He must have dragged his way to her even though he was exhausted to the point of death. She stroked his cheek and then pulled his face to her chest, running her fingers through his matted hair and hoping the end, when it came, would be swift.
***
Even the undead turned to face the figure on the ridge as the gargoyle landed and offered it the Monas.
Shader continued to run, weaving in and out of the stationary combatants strewn across the battlefield. The men looked too exhausted to move, too overcome with despair. The cadavers just seemed forgotten, and lacking volition of their own they simply stood there. A few surviving demons spiralled into the east, but all else appeared frozen in time.
Shader barged through a cluster of undead and sprinted for the slope leading up to the ridge.
Just before Sektis Gandaw’s hands reached the Monas, the gargoyle drew it back. Amber flared from it, lancing skywards, searing a hole in the firmament. The skeleton that was Sektis Gandaw threw its arms up and then watched as the clouds were sucked towards the hole. They swirled and coalesced, forming a pattern like a gigantic skull.
Still Shader ran, knees burning as he fought his way up a scree bank.
‘Blightey!’ Sektis Gandaw cried out as the skull turned towards him, the eye cavities filling with a bloody hue. Whilst he was distracted, the gargoyle sprang at him, reaching for the pieces of the statue that bathed his hands in amber light.
Shader reached the overhang leading to the ridge and had to sheathe his gladius to find hand holds. He swung a leg over the edge and then rolled to the top. Drawing the gladius once more, he dived straight at the gargoyle’s back. The creature must have sensed the attack as it squawked and flapped a few feet into the air, carrying Sektis Gandaw with it, dangling by the wrists. Shader skidded beneath them, rolled, and came up with the sword ready.
The amber in Sektis Gandaw’s hands flared and the gargoyle released its grip. As Sektis Gandaw floated slowly down beside Shader, an aperture opened above him admitting cobalt skies that washed away the apparition of the skull. The gargoyle flapped its wings furiously as a gigantic black fist soared through the opening and struck it full in the face. The gargoyle went into a spin, dropping the Monas. Sektis Gandaw snatched it out of the air as the black hand gave the gargoyle an almighty slap, sending it into a tumbling spin. With more frantic flapping, it righted itself, but saw the hand racing in pursuit. With a screech of utter horror it dived for the edge of the Homestead and disappeared. The black hand wavered for a moment, as if searching for its prey, and then retreated to the aperture.
‘Kill him! Kill him now! Kill him for Nous!’ Dave the Slave clambered over the lip of the ridge, eyes burning with zeal, lips drawn back in a feral snarl.
Shader raised the gladius to strike Sektis Gandaw’s exposed back, glanced at Dave as the hunchback climbed to his feet, shaking his fists in anticipation—and hesitated.
Sektis Gandaw turned, amber fire snaking about his body and striking the ground. A shockwave rolled across the ridge and Shader tumbled from the precipice. He clutched the edge with one hand and clung to the gladius with the other. Pain lanced through his shoulder and his fingers began to slip. Dave threw himself to his belly and grabbed Shader’s wrist.
‘No!’ he yelled. ‘No! You must not fail!’
The cobalt hole in the sky widened as a figure seated upon a throne came thro
ugh. Shader looked into the frenzied eyes of Dave the Slave, watched the movement of his slavering jaws, and recoiled in horror.
‘Hold on,’ Dave growled. ‘I am the voice of Nous. You must not fail!’
‘No,’ Shader said. ‘No!’
He slipped through Dave’s grip and tumbled down the scree bank with the hunchback’s screams in his ears.
Shader’s head cracked against stone and he lay supine, gazing helplessly at the figure on the throne holding out the serpent’s body of the Statue of Eingana with a single amber fang blazing like lightning. The liche that had once been Cadman accepted the statue even as Dave slid down the slope to Shader’s side.
‘Get up!’ he cried. ‘Get up before it’s too late.’
It was already too late. Shader watched the liche slot the other fang inside the mouth of Eingana and then press home an eye. Too late for him, too late for the Earth, too late for Nous and all his damned creation. The liche clawed at the Ipsissimal Monas, prised the second eye free and inserted it in the head of the serpent. It raised the Statue of Eingana above its head, amber bursting from it with scintillating luminosity. The man on the throne stretched out his arms and the liche started to back towards him, the glare from the statue so intense the two figures were just silhouettes to Shader. The liche shook the statue in triumph and turned to face the throne, but then its skull shattered into a thousand pieces and a thunder-crack shook the ridge. The liche fell, pitching the statue to the earth.
Shader tried to rise, but his head was pounding. A small figure holding a long smoking tube appeared above the far edge of the ridge. He dropped the weapon, vaulted to the surface, and sprinted for the statue with a black cloak billowing behind him.
Shadrak! Shader rolled to a sitting position and tried to screen out Dave’s shouting.
The assassin dived for the statue as the man on the throne stood. The air rippled and some invisible force struck Shadrak, hurling him back across the ridge. The man stooped to pick up the statue and held it like a parent with a newborn child. The light faded enough for Shader to see he was dressed in a tunic and trousers of grey, with polished black shoes and perfect hair. The face was waxen and bloodless, the eyes cold and clinical. He caught Shader looking and glanced down at the remains of Cadman’s skeletal body.
‘A host body, no more, but it served its purpose.’
‘Gandaw.’ Shader struggled to stand, but slumped back down again. ‘You don’t have to do this.’
‘Oh, but I do, you pathetic little insect. I’ve waited a long time for this.’
Sektis Gandaw resumed his place on the throne and the aperture sealed, leaving only clear skies in its place.
‘You have failed Nous!’ Dave screamed. ‘You are cursed forever. You have doomed us!’
Shader’s skull was a nest of stinging insects. Coppery blood was on his tongue, and his heart ricocheted around his ribcage, threatening to burst from his chest.
Voices. He could hear voices—Dave snarling, Barek telling him to back off. Someone was calling his name.
‘Rhiannon, is that you?’ His own words were a drowning mush. Their sloshing echo passed deeper and deeper into the heart of a black abyss, met with a rising stream of speech, coiled about it, became as one.
‘Not good.’
‘Aristodeus?’
‘Not good at all.’
THE STORY CONTINUES IN…
SHADER
Book Three
THE UNWEAVING
Shader has failed and Sektis Gandaw now holds all the pieces of the Statue of Eingana. Despair hangs like a pall over the battered armies of Sahul and Aeterna. It’s now just a matter of time… A sliver of hope comes in the form of Shadrak the Unseen who has the means to travel to the source of the coming cataclysm, the black mountain at the heart of the Dead Lands on Aethir. But Shader, Shadrak, and Rhiannon discover that Aethir brings a new set of challenges: the Sour Marsh—an oozing malignancy from the nightmare realm of Qlippoth; an arrogant Senate that seeks to appease rather than fight; and a volatile secret at the heart of the ravine city of Arx Gravis, a dwarf with no name who could prove the most stalwart of allies…or the deadliest of foes. Old love has turned sour and regrets run deep. Shader is sick of killing, but can see no other way. Rhiannon’s last defense against all she has lost is a self-destructive rage; and Shadrak’s niggling conscience is causing him more trouble than he needs. Loyalties are called into question, yet all three must bury their differences if they are to find a way into Sektis Gandaw’s impregnable base and prevent the Unweaving of all things.
COMING SUMMER 2012
SHADER NEWS AND UPDATES ARE AVAILABLE FROM:
www.deaconshader.blogspot.com
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About the Author
Photograph by Theo Prior
D.P. Prior read Drama, Classics and History at the University of Wales, Aberystwyth. He studied Mental Health Nursing at the University of Sussex and read Theological Studies at the University of Notre Dame, Western Australia. He is the founder of the online discussion community Mysticism Unbound. He works as a freelance editor and author.
Please let me know what you think!
You are welcome to contact the author with any feedback at:
[email protected]
THE FANTASY WORKS OF D. P. PRIOR
Chronicles of the Nameless Dwarf
The Ant-man of Malfen
The Axe of the Dwarf Lords
The Shader Series
Cadman’s Gambit
Best Laid Plans
The Unweaving(coming summer 2012)
The Archon’s Assassin (coming winter 2012)
Rise of the Nameless Dwarf (coming summer 2013)
A Dark Perdurance (coming winter 2013)
The Memoirs of Harry Chesterton
Thanatos Rising
REVIEWS OF THE Chronicles of the Nameless Dwarf
“…this is a masterful peek into Prior's style and the world he has created. I recommend it to all fans of fantasy fiction.”
Five Stars
--M.R. Mathias, best-selling author of the Wardstone Trilogy
“This book has a wonderful plot, some great fights, twists and turns plus interesting characters; and maybe most importantly a main character with a dry and cynical sense of humor...a couple of laugh-out-load moments…I can hardly wait for future installments.”
Five Stars
--Ray Nicholson, Top 1000 Reviewer Amazon.com
“…strong and leads the reader on a chase to the ending. There is something for everyone in this tale: some violence, some venality, some bonding of characters and some comic relief. I found this an easy and fast paced read and quickly devoured it. I will be sure to follow Nameless through his Chronicles.”
Five Stars
--J.L. Chase, Red Adept Reviews
“The Ant-Man of Malfen is steeped in the tradition of good old-fashioned swashbuckling fantasy, reminiscent of Robert E. Howard…Prior writes in a style that is both fearless and entertaining, and gives each of his characters a unique voice. This novella was my first foray into this unique universe, and by the end, I was
wanting more. Very good read.”
Five Stars
--V. Daniels, best-selling author of The Interstellar Age and Fallen Angels series
“D.P. Prior has a talent for characterization...The plot of this book is dark, filled with sorcery, brutal fights, and more than a few monsters… I also saw just a tad of humor. Prior is a master at imagery. His pen paints a vivid picture of the realms and the characters…Fans of science fiction and fantasy will enjoy The Ant Man of Malfen.”
Five Stars
--Readers Favorite
EXCERPT: THE CHRONICLES OF THE NAMELESS DWARF
THE ANT-MAN OF MALFEN
“Told you,” Nils hollered from the top of the ridge. “Malfen.”
Silas struggled up beside him and looked down the escarpment to where flaming torches hung from sconces around high walls running like a curtain across the pass at the foot of the Farfall Mountains. The mountains rose like gigantic steps into the receding distance, never sheer, their gradient long and gentle, as if the Farfalls had been poured like molten sludge upon the plains between Malkuth and Qlippoth.
