The Shadow Eater (The Dominions of Irth Book 2)

by A. Attanasio

  "Leave us be, giant!" Old Ric's voice squeaked timidly. "We offer you no harm."

  A laugh like a brattle of thunder crashed over them. "What harm could you little things offer me? I am Krakaz, master of the Blister Plains!"

  "Do not judge by size alone, Krakaz!" Old Ric gestured expansively to his comrade. "This is Asofel. He is a Radiant One visiting our Bright Shore from beyond World's End."

  "Oh, I quake!" Rocks spilled down the escarpment as the giant feigned terror.

  Old Ric threw arms over his head. Asofel did not flinch though stones pelted the ground around him and one thudded off his shoulder and half turned his body.

  "I am Krakaz, master of the Blister Plains!" The giant lifted his craggy head triumphantly toward black vapors that passed for clouds on Hellsgate. "What manner of creatures are you to stand before me?"

  "I am but a gnome." Ric ducked his head lower. "But this—this is a Radiant One. He comes from beyond the dream of these worlds. You would be wise to show him respect, Krakaz."

  "I am already wise," the giant declared, and rested its faceted chin in its hand. "I am over seventy-six thousand days old. I know all the ways of giants, and I have learned much of the worlds from the little things that dare to trespass my domain."

  "Yet you have not heard of the Radiant Ones?" Old Ric dared a step closer. "I tell you, this is a powerful being. Remove your hand from the cave entrance and let us depart the way we arrived."

  "Depart?" Another laugh sent more hail of gravel and rocks down the slope. "None of the little things who have trespassed my domain ever depart. You are no exception."

  "Are you going to kill us?" Old Ric asked, appalled. "Then you are malicious!"

  "To all but my own kind." The giant reached out a cracked and scaly hand. "I enjoy watching little things burn in the lava pools. Their screams reach as far as music. Only too brief."

  Old Ric threw both arms straight up. "Wait now, Krakaz. You are making a terrible and fatal mistake. You don't know what you're doing!"

  The giant's hand paused. "True. You disturbed my nap, and I have behaved like a grouchy child. Forgive me. Before I kill you, I would hear your story."

  "I hail from Nemora," Old Ric launched nervously into his history, eager to mollify the giant and win passage out of Hellsgate. "There I was born into the kith of…"

  "Not you!" The giant's finger pointed at Asofel. "I want to hear his story!"

  "Of course!" Old Ric bowed apologetically. "This is Asofel, sentinel from…"

  "I will hear from Asofel himself." The giant returned its cleft chin to its hand, and its fulgent eyes brightened. "Speak."

  "I have been sent here by the author of these worlds," Asofel replied calmly and truthfully. "My mission is to remove an interloper from the Dark Shore."

  "You are indeed interlopers, whom I will remove," Krakaz stated. "That is how we giants keep our domains private."

  "If you fail," Old Ric interceded, "you are frustrated. If we fail, these worlds will cease to exist!"

  Another quaking laugh rained pebbles. "You are the most amusing interlopers I have ever encountered in my many days." The giant half lidded its furnace eyes. "These worlds cannot end, gnome. They are eternal. Every giant knows that. For we are eternal. Look about you. Do you see those distant mountains? Giants all!"

  "Yes, yes, as you grow older, you lithify—you become as rock." The gnome knew.

  "Living rock, gnome!" Krakaz's eyes flared wider. "We grow slower as we grow older, sustained by the Charm of the Abiding Star, until we become slow enough to join the planetary host, the chorus of Old Ones, who lie together, sharing the music of the planets."

  "If you want to hear that music," the gnome warned, "you'd best leave us depart so we may save these worlds."

  "I am no ignorant stone-child," Krakaz growled. "These worlds are not made by an author. They cooled from the fiery origin of all worlds, from the first fire, the blaze of the Abiding Star that forged creation."

  "The author of worlds lives within the light of the Abiding Star," Asofel spoke up. "The Bright Shore and all its planets belong to her dream. And if she should stop dreaming, these worlds will vanish."

  "And you, Asofel?" The giant jutted a rocky lip and squinted with curiosity. "Does the author of these worlds dream you as well?"

  "I am of another dream." Asofel crossed his arms, and his head canted to one side as he remembered the life he once lived. "There are Nameless Ones who exist deeper in the light of the Abiding Star, and they are greater than the author of these worlds. I belong to the dreamer who dreams the author."

  "And no doubt there are greater dreamers yet, am I right?" Krakaz twisted its long mouth smugly. "Dreams within dreams, yes?

  "That may be so," Asofel admitted. "I know only of the dream from which I come."

  "Tell us of that dream, Asofel. Do you live there as I do here, waiting for time to build a future large enough for a mate, for children, and eventually for a comfortable place of recline among the Old Ones?"

  "The dream I lived beyond World's End is very different. None here among the worlds would recognize it, for it is a dream without worlds. All is light there."

  Krakaz's rugged head pulled back with surprise. "Enough of this nonsense!" Its hand lifted, three crusted fingers spreading wide to grasp them both. "Now we'll hear you sing."

  "No, wait!" Old Ric waved his arms urgently. "Your world is in danger. You must believe us!"

  The shadow of the giant's hand fell over them as he chortled, "I believe you will both sing well in the lava!"

  "Turn away!" Asofel commanded Old Ric.

  The eldern gnome slapped his hands to his face and curled around, nearly bending double.

  Asofel's tunic shredded like ash as his radiance glared in a fiery whirlblast so bright that, for a moment, the black lava rocks looked white.

  Old Ric beheld the bulbous bones in his hands. Yet he felt no heat. When darkness enclosed him again, he peeled away his hands.

  Asofel stood naked and ablaze with paisleys of flame. The giant was gone.

  "I apologize." Asofel dazzled. "I ate again of the dream."

  Old Ric lifted a grateful face to the figure of flame. "Are you still hungry? I'm certain we can find more giants."

  The Sibyl

  The sibyl appeared as little more than a white shadow hiding among the vines in a dark forest cove. When Jyoti and Broydo happened upon her, her outraged cry sent riled birds shooting out of the dense canopy. Her curved eyes, smoky as quartz, flashed ire at the margravine for ripping away the leaf screen that concealed her.

  "Sibyl, forgive me!" Jyoti blurted even as the creature stretched her crimson-and-green wings to fly. "I am desperate for your help, or I would never intrude on you in so rude a manner. Please, do not abandon me to my plight, you who have shared prophecy with me in the past."

  The bright wings relaxed and covered again the small, marble-pure nakedness of the diminutive creature. A blue tongue of flame flickered in the round hole of her mouth. "I am hungry."

  Jyoti twisted from her waist and called to her companion, "Broydo—the maggot. Bring it here." Then she faced the sibyl. "I have flesh for you from World's End."

  "Rare meat." The flame burned brighter in the circle of the sibyl's mouth. "Is it fresh?"

  "Very."

  Broydo ran back through the forest and found the maggot still hiding beneath the dwarf's dented breastplate. The elf picked it up with the flat of the sword's blade and carried it quickly through the trees. It curled blindly around the sharpened bone yet slid off easily when he presented the writhing animal to the sibyl.

  Her clawed hands flayed the maggot, and her tongue of fire licked its gelatinous interior with a hiss of burnt flesh. In moments, the maggot was reduced to a crisp husk emptied of its vitality.

  The sibyl's vivid, inhuman face peered up through inky streaks of hair, and her quartz eyes blinked slowly with satisfaction. The blue flame sparked in her mouth's gaping hole. "Ask me what you would know."r />
  "Where is Reece Morgan?" Jyoti knelt in the dewy grass before the pale icon folded in her colorful wings.

  "Locked in his fated self."

  "Where?"

  "On Irth—" The crystalline eyes fluttered, and the silken voice of the small being continued, "On Irth's far side—in Gabagalus."

  "Is that far?" Broydo asked.

  "Perhaps too far," Jyoti worried. "Gabagalus is an autonomous realm separate from the dominions. They do not readily welcome visitors."

  Broydo only partly heard Jyoti, for his attention had fixed on the appearance of the strange little creature before him, perched in her shadowy socket of the forest. Her mortal-shaped body gave a familiar semblance that her stark face—with its rigid mouth hole, flame-tongue, and clouded eyes—belied.

  "Ask, elf." A blue spark spit from the sibyl's mouth hole. "Ask me what you would know."

  "Smiddy Thea and those of my clan—" Broydo drew a long breath before daring to ask, "Are they well?"

  "Under the high walk of the wind, they cower." The sibyl's wings trembled. "They must live thinly now. Dwarves stalk the Forest of Wraiths seeking vengeance upon elves for the pain of their loss—the Necklace of Souls."

  Broydo's hands tugged at his nappy green hair while the other upheld the serpent sword. "I must bring this sword to them! They need me!"

  "I need you." Jyoti put a firm hand on his arm and lowered the sword. "If we are to find our way to Reece and free him, we are going to have to get through a lot of dwarves. I can't lose you now."

  "But my people—"

  Jyoti squeezed his arm reassuringly. "The sibyl says they live."

  "They cower." Broydo shook his head ruefully. "And they live thinly. It's all my fault. I should never, never have led the dwarves to them."

  "You and the gnome were brave," Jyoti reminded him from the story he had told of his adventures on World's End with Old Ric and Asofel. "Do you forget—if you had not brought the Necklace of Souls to your clan, they would have died horrible deaths under the curse of the demon Tivel."

  "True—" Broydo's cheeks puffed out with an emptying of air that tried to drain the dread he felt. "I spared them one misery for another." He grasped Jyoti's hand. "I must go back. This sword is all that can save them."

  "And the worlds, Broydo?" Jyoti's hard stare held him sternly. "What good if you save your clan and all the Bright Shore disappear?"

  "The true is known to few." The sibyl stirred in her folded cloak of feathers. "For leagues and leagues, the day is empty. But in Gabagalus, the day is shaped—to be made or lost. The true is known to few."

  "What does that mean?" Broydo gnashed his teeth. "I don't understand. Speak to us plainly, sibyl. Are the worlds truly doomed? Has Old Ric spoken truthfully of the nameless lady and the child unmoving in her womb?"

  "To know this places you among the few." The sibyl closed her eyes. "Only listen—"

  Broydo cocked his head and heard grass birds fluting down the winding trails of the forest.

  The sibyl's eyes eased open and shone as if lit from within. "For now, all the worlds are a singing tree, alive in a dead place."

  "I don't understa..."

  Jyoti stopped him with a thumb to his grimacing lips. "She is telling us she doesn't know what will happen. The fate of the worlds is being shaped right now in Gabagalus. Are you coming with me to decide the outcome?"

  Broydo mumbled grouchily, his mind preoccupied with images of Smiddy Thea and the many elves he knew and loved. "Have I a choice?"

  Jyoti firmly held his wintry stare. "If you think it through—no."

  "Is that so, sibyl?" Broydo gazed down at the little figure of a sable-haired woman wrapped in livid wings. "Should Jyoti and I go to Gabagalus?"

  "Go as far as one can go." The sibyl shivered and stepped back into the shadowed niche of her cove. "Past and future merge like paths."

  Broydo's purpled face flinched. "That doesn't tell us anything!"

  The sibyl had stepped back into darkness, eyes shut, wings shivering, unresponsive to the elf's embittered glowering.

  Jyoti carefully lowered the ivy veils she had torn aside and restored the sibyl's secrecy. "Are you coming with me to Gabagalus or not?"

  Broydo stared at the sword in his hand, and the white of the blade gleamed like hushed snowlight. Anger flexed in him. He would save Smiddy Thea and his clan. But first he would take back what the dwarves had stolen from him. "How do we get to Gabagalus?" he relented.

  Jyoti smiled and clasped an arm across the elf's shoulders. "There is no easy way. Journey by airship will take too long, and, because travelers are not welcome in that realm, no approved route exists to get there."

  "It might as well be on another planet," Broydo complained and swung the sword, swiping the head off a thistly flower. "Tell me, what is this place called Gabagalus?"

  "It is a continent that rises from the sea each dawn and sinks again each dusk." Jyoti strolled with the elf through the woods' cryptic shadows. "With my aviso and amulets, we can get there through the charmways. But the journey will be a difficult one."

  "Why?" Broydo gave her a startled look. "Are we going down that Well of Spiders?"

  Jyoti allowed herself a gentle laugh. "No, Broydo. That would take us off Irth to other worlds. We are simply going to cross to the other side of Irth, to where it is night now. The difficulty will be in arriving there unannounced. I believe if there's any hope at all of freeing Reece from the dwarves, we have to surprise them."

  "Who lives in Gabagalus?" Broydo irately kicked a toadstool, spilling its spores. "Are there elves there?"

  "I think not." Jyoti reached through her memory for what little was known of the mysterious continent. "Salamandrines live there. I am told that they are just one outpost of a trade empire that spans worlds far distant from the familiar planets of Irth, Nemora, and Hellsgate. And most strange of all, they think our use of Charm primitive."

  "Truly?" Broydo cocked a wispy eyebrow. "What do they use? What holds them to Irth when the night tide pulls?"

  "The ocean, I guess, for they sink beneath the waves by dark." The margravine's brow tightened as she recited the hearsay: "Gabagalus does not use Charm. They have mastered the discipline of science."

  "Science?" A gasp of disbelief escaped the elf. "You mean the child's game?"

  Jyoti nodded with shared amazement. "Yes, the one where children learn secrets of nature by observation alone. My grandfather was a fanatic about science. He thought Charm weakened us and that we should let nature teach us by what it reveals. He was the one who taught me how to defend myself without Charm."

  "Science may be a happy distraction for children and good for teaching them traits of weather and wind," Broydo allowed. "But Charmed kites fly higher and farmers serve their crops best by reading weather with far-seeing amulets instead of barometers and wind vanes."

  "I agree." Jyoti climbed over a fallen tree. "Yet bear in mind, science is simply a toy for us. That is why Gabagalus has little to do with us. They believe, from what I understand, that we are primitives dwelling in a wilderness."

  "Sibyls do not lie." Broydo pronounced this common truth like a revelation. "If this sibyl had not told us that the one we seek is there in Gabagalus, I would never have thought to search so alien a place."

  "Let's hope we will have the privilege of searching there." She tugged at her ear, trying to visualize in her mind a route through the charmways that would lead to the antipodes. "We have to get there first."

  While the margravine thought, Broydo swatted the grass with his weapon, hoping to improve his sword skills.

  "I can show you how to use that if you like." Jyoti closed her aviso and returned it to her vest. "My grandfather instructed me in long-sword technique."

  "I am just a counselor." Broydo presented the weapon to her hilt first. "You should carry the serpent sword into Gabagalus."

  Jyoti waved the hilt aside. "It's best you learn. When you return to the Forest of Wraiths, you may need this swor
d to help your clan."

  "I will not cleave to this weapon when the dwarves are upon us again, margravine." Broydo's shoulders slumped. "I was wrong to deny Ripcat the sword. He would be with us now if I had not insisted on holding the blade myself."

  "Please, stop berating yourself, Broydo." She stepped behind him and reached around to adjust his grip on the hilt. "You will have another chance against the dwarves, and this time you will be prepared."

  "What did your charmwrights tell you of the way to Gabagalus?" The sword reached longer now that he no longer choked the grip, and he swung it with more authority. "Will guides arrive to lead us?"

  "The Dark Lord left me few enough subjects." Jyoti stepped to a holm oak dangling white-blossomed creepers, and she tied to those vines by its leathern straps the dwarf's breastplate. She set it swinging. "I instructed my people to stay in Arwar Odawl and continue the rebuilding. The fewer we are, the less chance of exposing ourelves before we're ready."

  "But your subjects have given you directions?" The elf approached the swinging breastplate, swung, and missed. "You know how to lead us through the charmways?"

  "Gabagalus is a continent." She stood at his side and showed him how to change the placement of his feet so that the sword's weight did not make him lean forward. "There are several charmways that lead there. Once we arrive, we'll have to rely on Charm to find Reece."

  With a loud gong, Broydo struck the swinging breastplate and leaped back, startled. "I hit it!"

  "Remember your foot placement, that's the key to sword technique." Jyoti demonstrated for him how to step as he advanced and retreated. "Keep your elbows in and your weight on your heels."

  They practiced again and again until Broydo became proficient at striking moving targets: tossed fruits, swinging vines, and the stick Jyoti used to fence with him. By then, the Abiding Star stood shattered among tree boughs and flocks of birds wheeled through the orange sky seeking their roosts.

  "It will be dawn in Gabagalus soon," Jyoti announced. "Time to go. Are you ready?"

  Broydo pirouetted with the sword inverted and deftly swung it around. The tip of the blade cleanly sliced a leaf from a swaying branch. "Away then!" he shouted zealously. "To Gabagalus and Reece, so that I can return to World's End and cut the dwarves there to maggots!"