A Shadow's Tale (4 page)

‘Now, Shadow, according the descriptions in the Scriptures, your magic, although far stronger than any wielded by a Synari, it is manipulated in much the same way.

‘First, I would like you to try to imagine an orb of magic hovering over your hand.'

I looked down at my hand, blinking. How was I supposed to access my magic? I'd never done it on purpose before. High Priestess Arias had told me that it was controlled by strong emotion. The twice that I had used it, pain and fear had been the presiding factors. I raised my hand in front of me to chest level, palm facing upwards. It felt right to do it like this. Strong
emotion. Did it have to be negative? I didn't want to use too much and lose control. I already knew that it hurt. I decided to focus on the feeling of joy as I soared through the air with Merlas. I closed my eyes to think more clearly. In my mind, the pegasus slowly morphed into a ball of black energy. Warmth coursed through my body as if I was standing in sunlight. I cracked open one eye. A sphere of magic hovered above my hand, light glinting off the crystalline surface. It was wobbly and not an exact round shape, but it was there. Armen inspected it carefully, nodding in approval. He then proceeded to make me practise forming and controlling the sphere until I was too exhausted to give it shape.

I stayed in my room without protest the next day, thoughts of Merlas and the flight still fresh in my mind as I lay back on my bed and daydreamed. Night was falling rapidly outside, the light gradually dimming, the shadows lengthening. A strange tingling sensation shot through my body, not unlike a shiver or the feeling of someone stepping on your grave. I ignored it, rolling over onto my side. My rebellious hair fell over my face. Huffing, I raised a hand to push it out of the way. I froze. Nails, not claws, tipped my fingers. Scrambling off my bed, I darted for the broken silver glass. My shattered, distorted image looked back at me through blue eyes. Black hair, blue eyes, fingernails… I let out a yelp of surprise. What had happened to me?

Armen burst into the room, his concern clear in his expression. He found me curled in a corner, shaking uncontrollably and tugging on my hair. I couldn't summon my magic. I couldn't even feel it, just ice where its warmth usually ran through my blood.

‘Shadow?' he asked, crouching next to me. ‘What happened?'

‘I don't know, it just happened!' I wailed. ‘I can't even feel my magic!'

Armen barely suppressed a chuckle as he pulled me in for a quick bear hug, ruffling my hair. ‘My poor little one, how scared
you must have been! Worry not, it is perfectly normal for half bloods of your breed to experience a short period of time every moon, known as a ‘vulnerable' period, where they revert to their non demonic side. For three days and three nights, you will be unable to use magic, any wounds will heal much slower and you will be weaker than you are accustomed to being. You will be, as the name states, more vulnerable. However, in light of all that, worry not. We will keep you safe. ‘

As promised, three days later, a tremor passed over my skin as I sat at my desk with yet another scroll from the Part Demon Scriptures. A glance at my hand confirmed my thoughts. Thicker, harder, sharper claw had replaced the delicate fingernail. Heat suffused my muscles as magic coursed through my blood. I willed it into shape as Armen had begun teaching me to do. An orb of my black magic, glittering in the light of dusk, shimmered above my palm. A half-smile twisted one corner of my mouth. I released the magic, stretching my arms over my head. As much as I loathed being a half breed, being forced into a form where I was unable to defend myself was truly frightening. I wandered over to my window where, if I tried hard, I could catch a glimpse of the pegusi stables. I could feel Merlas's presence and her emotions, but I couldn't talk to her. It was hard when we were so far apart. I missed her greatly when we were separated. I peered around the towers, trying to see the red tile roof of the stable, but something else caught my eye. Out on the plains surrounding the city. Flickering blue light. In the streets below me, people began to throng, shouting to each other. The Senate Towers burst alive with activity. The door slammed open. Armen stood there, his expression serious and afraid.

‘Synairn is under attack. Arias has commanded that you fight with us.'

I didn't understand what was going on. I didn't even know what
was going on. Armen swept me down to the lowest levels of the Senate Towers, protecting me from being jostled or trodden on as what seemed to be the entire population of Synairn headed in the same direction. We emerged into a cavern that rang with the sound of metal on metal. I found myself face to face with a Senator who looked none too kindly at me.

‘Demoness or not, I find it difficult to believe that our benevolent ruler has decided to send a child into battle. It seems wrong to lay such scars on a young mind.'

‘We have our orders, Rai. Equip her as best you can. I will return for her soon.' Before I could utter so much as a word, Armen left me in the care of the scar-handed Synari. I swallowed hard as I looked up at him, wishing Armen hadn't left. Rai held my gaze for a moment before he shook his head, muttering under his breath as he searched through piles of metal plates. I stirred not one foot. More Synari swarmed around me, but I dared not move, not even as they glared at me with open hatred. I simply bowed my head and wished the ordeal, whatever it was, to be over. Rai returned moments later, metal piles high in his hands.

‘I have nothing that will fit a soldier as small as you, but what I have will have to do. Time is of the essence.' He started to put together various pieces of mismatched metals. A plain helm sat upon my head, although it fell far too easily over my eyes, leaving me to repeatedly push it back up. A shirt of leather fell to my knees, smelling of sweat, terror and blood. My soft indoor shoes were replaced with heavy boots of a material I couldn't identify. Plates of mismatched, dented metal were then strapped over my forearms, shoulders, torso and legs. I felt so heavy that if a person should touch me on the shoulder, I would fall over and not be able to stand up again. Armen reappeared at my side, resplendent in his pieces of metal plate that fitted him like a glove.

‘Armen, what of arms? Surely the High Priestess cannot expect her only to fight with magic?'

‘Find her a long knife or a short sword. She has practised with neither, but they remain among the simplest weapons to wield with any degree of accuracy.'

Rai wrapped a belt twice around my waist, on which was a scarred leather sheath. I pulled out the blade it housed, a single edged knife common among the Synari who hunted the abundance of wildlife that teemed in the forests around the city. The blade itself was chipped and dented with use, but its edge still gleamed with a deadly air. At Armen's command, I hurried after him, trying to keep up as he strode out of the hall and out into the city.

The sight that met me as we stood on the brink onto the plains was not one I was prepared for, let alone the wall of sound, smell and emotion that assaulted me until my head reeled from it. The fear and pain and anguish. The clanging of metal and cries and howls. The blood and sweat and cloying smell of death. Dry sobs caught in the back of my throat. I started to back away, wanting to flee, run, just get away from this place. Armen's hand on my shoulder stopped me. I glanced up at him. With infinite sadness in his eyes, he drew a sword that was almost as long as I was tall.

‘I'm sorry, Shadow, but today, you must fight, for the good of our dimension.'

I had no choice but to follow him as he and countless others rushed into the fray with metal in their hands. Jostled by their movements, I fell onto the battlefield, into the heart of the fray. I screamed aloud. A man with nothing but rage in his heart raised his sword. My fear took control. A blast of magic threw him far away from me. I pulled out the knife I had been given as I tried to make sense of the goings on. Not far above my head, metal clashed. Another creature tried to separate my head from my shoulders. I squeaked, slashing at him with my knife before running as fast as I could in the other direction. I tripped on something soft that I didn't want to think too closely about, falling to the very solid ground with a bone-jarring thud. I tried
to scramble to my feet, but the metal plates were so heavy. They dragged me down, robbing me of the ability to run. A short sword stabbed through my calf as if it were no more than a damp scroll, impaling it to the ground. I screamed in pain.

‘Now ah've gotcha, ya little bitch! Yer no' ge'in' away again!'

Panic gripped my heart in its ice cold talons. Fear numbed my mind. Then the burning started. The power surge. Oh goddess, the power surge! My hands dug into the blood-drenched ground. My heart beat so fast. The fire built within every fibre of me until it spiked in my head. A wave of black magic erupted from deep within me, knocking back my attacker and everyone around me. Darkness overtook my mind and I fell back onto the gore splattered ground.

The first thing I noticed was the smell. The smell of blood and death and burnt flesh. It almost choked me in its intensity. I could barely breathe. I opened my eyes. I saw the empty, glazed eyes of a dead man in front of me. With a shriek, I sat up. Pain lanced through my leg, still staked to the ground by the sword. Somewhere not far off, I heard the moans of a wounded soldier trying to get to his feet, the sobs of pain of the other wounded, wails of grief for the dead. Tears began to drip down my face as I stared at the violet sky. What had I done? I slumped back to the ground. My muscles protested against the sudden movement, but I ignored them. How many had I killed? With one wave of magic, how many had I killed? Maybe I was just like my father. Maybe I was just as the Senate thought, evil to the very core of my being. A ruthless and cold-blooded killer. Not fit to live. Maybe a demon's only use was for destruction. Somewhere far above my head, something screeched. I took no notice. Something thudded to the ground. I did not turn to look.

‘Little one,' crooned a soft voice. Still, I did not acknowledge the presence of anyone else. Merlas lay next to me, harrumphing softly. ‘Oh, my little one…' She murmured in deepest sorrow
before shielding me from the world in a cocoon of black feathers.

I don't know how long I lay on the battlefield before I heard a flurry of robes. Light flooded my eyes as Merlas lifted her wings to allow Armen to crouch next to me, his arm in a strip of cloth that bound the limb to the opposite shoulder, stained by a little blood. I took no notice of his arrival, all but dead to the world as he softly called my name. His fingers touched my neck, seeking the pulse point. I pulled back my lip to snarl, baring a fang, a growl grating in my throat. Merlas nickered a warning. He quickly pulled back his hand.

‘Shadow?' he asked in concern. I said nothing still, nor did I move. ‘By the goddess, Shadow, please answer me!'

‘There is nothing that needs to be said,' I answered dully.

‘Oh, thank the merciful goddess. I feared I had lost you.' He moved to examine the sword keeping me pinned to the ground like a piece of paper to a desk. ‘This will hurt, Shadow, brace yourself.'

I did not moan or gasp as he wrenched the sword from the earth and my flesh. Instead, my claws dug deep furrows into the ground. I got to my feet, only betraying my pain through my narrowed eyes. Hauling herself to her hooves, Merlas took a long look at me through one dark, critical eye. I stood, hunched over, swaying slightly under the weight of the metal plates, favouring my injured leg. She snorted slightly, muttering something to herself about silly two-leggeds and their silly battles, grabbing the back of the leather shirt I wore in her teeth. Lifting her head as high as possible, she deposited me onto her back. Out of habit, I wound my hands into her mane, my head still bowed low. Armen laid a hand on Merlas's neck and, slowly, we began the long walk back to the Senate Towers.

* * *

Another year passed with no great haste. With great caution, I came out of the stupor the battle had caused, coaxed softly by both Armen and Merlas. Arias had said nothing about it, although Armen had been excused from the greater part of his Senator duties in order to become my sole tutor. He taught me to control my magic directly from the scriptures left by the previously extinct part demons. He taught me strength by having me clear new fields of boulders, carrying them with only my magic over miles. He taught me restraint by having me weave cloth with magic or dam a small stream. He taught me focus with puzzles and control with impossible tasks. For every day that I worked with determination, Armen took me to fly with Merlas. Sometimes to study, he took me to a great hall filled with books called a ‘library', and left me to browse on my own, to choose my own reading. I even started to learn more languages, recommended by Armen for reasons he refused to tell me. I was, however, forbidden to use magic except in Armen's presence.

As I was confined to my room for the duration of time that I did not spend with Armen, I read for hours on end. It was at one such time that I first heard the voice in my head. The scriptures had warned me about such things, about the voice of the demonic parent trying to trigger a switch of control from the ‘normal' side to the demonic. Part demons were, effectively, two people in one. As such, I simply ignored the voice. I focused my eyes on the book I was reading, allowing its words to blot out the demon's. Something somewhere in my mind flipped. Pain shot through my limbs. I fell from my chair, desperately trying to work out what had happened. Thankfully, it ended quickly. I lay panting on the ground, something crashed into the window. Merlas! Never before had I been so glad of leaving a window open at all times. Unable to fit her broad shoulders through the window frame, she stretched her head out towards me. I yelped as she grabbed the back of my neck in her teeth before pushing off again.

Merlas flew up to the mountains, to a clearing with a small stream. Standing close to the edge of the water, she dropped her head a little to look at her reflection. Hanging from the doe's mouth, barely visible against her black coat was a black wolf cub. I looked down at my hand only to see a paw. I yelped out loud. I was a wolf! How did that happen? Merlas dropped me onto the grass of the clearing, looking at me expectantly. Realising I wasn't changing back, she huffed, rustled her wings and wandered off, obviously affronted. I tried to follow her, but realised that four legs were more complicated to operate than two. I ended up in a heap of legs and paws with another yelp. Merlas turned back to look at me. I looked back at her with what must have been a most pitiful expression. Sighing heavily, she wandered back over. Lifting me up to stand on my four paws again. She placed herself next to me and lifted a front hoof. When I didn't react, she pawed at the air. I lifted the same paw. We put our legs down a little way in front. Merlas lifted a hind leg. I copied her.