Dreaming of happier days — Banba alive, no demons, safe. Enjoying the dream, but midway through an inner voice whispers, “Wake up.” Connla’s been guarding us for the last few hours. Now it’s my turn to go on watch.
I’m excellent at waking myself. I never need to be called. It was one of the first spells Banba taught me. A priestess has to be able to control her dreams. Otherwise she can cause chaos while asleep.
I’m lying on my back, next to Orna, cloak drawn across my body and over my head. I turn slightly, careful not to break Drust’s masking spell. I look across to where Connla is. And see a demon.
For a second I think I’m still dreaming, because the demon doesn’t appear to be attacking Connla. It’s crouched beside him, bent over, head close to his, as though talking. And when I prick my ears I can hear it whispering.
A drop of rain hits me square between the eyes. I blink — then snap out of my stupor. Leaping to my feet, I roar at the top of my voice, “
Demons!
”
Everyone comes alive in an instant, on their feet, weapons in hands. Ronan notches an arrow to his bow, takes aim, and... stops as the demon turns to look at him. I see Ronan’s fingers quiver, his face twitch, his eyes narrow. He wants to unleash the arrow but he can’t. The demon’s controlling him.
Lorcan attacks, sword and axe a blur, screaming a challenge. The demon points with a lumpy, pale red hand. And Lorcan stops too, not frozen in place exactly but hovering beyond striking distance of the demon, unable to advance.
Goll and Orna are about to leap forward when Drust shouts, “No! Leave him!”
The druid is sitting up. His hands are joined. His lips are moving quickly, gaze fixed on the demon. He looks more purposeful than frightened.
Nobody moves. All eyes are pinned on the demon and the druid. Now that my sight has adjusted and there’s time to observe, I get a clear view of the monster. It’s tall, with eight arms, roughly shaped hands, dangling strips of flesh instead of legs and feet. Hovering in the air, not touching the ground. Pale red skin, flecked with blood. At first I think it’s Connla’s blood — I’m sure he’s dead — but then I notice scores of cracks in the demon’s skin, from which blood oozes, giving the lumpy flesh its unhealthy crimson tinge. No hair. Its eyes are dark red, with a black circle at the center of each globe. No nose, just two gaping cavities in the middle of its face. No heart either — just a hole in its chest filled with eel-like creatures, which slither over and under one another, hissing and spitting.
The demon cocks its head and smiles sadly at Drust. “You are powerful, druid. The girl too, if she could only learn what you teach her.”
Complete shock. I’ve never heard a demon speak like this, in words of our own. It —
he
— has a deep, sorrowful voice. Not entirely human, but the words are clearly formed. A demon who can speak as a human must also be able to think as a human. Drust’s prediction — and our worst fear — has been confirmed.
Then the meaning of his words hits home. He knows Drust has been trying to teach me. He knows I’ve been failing. That means he can either read minds or...
“He’s been following us!” I shriek, taking a step towards the heartless creature.
“Bec!” Drust hisses. “Don’t get involved!”
“But —”
“Such sadness,” the demon murmurs. “So much pain. A quest doomed to fail. This land overrun by demons. Everybody killed. And all your fault, Little One. Your people will die because you failed them. Imagine the humiliation and guilt.”
I tremble, not wanting to believe him. But he sounds so sure of himself, so certain this is what the future holds. There’s pity in his voice. I get the feeling he wants to comfort me. As I’m thinking this, the demon extends two arms and nods encouragingly. “Come to me,” he whispers. “Seek solace in the embrace of loving Lord Loss.”
I move closer to him,
I’m excellent at waking myself. I never need to be called. It was one of the first spells Banba taught me. A priestess has to be able to control her dreams. Otherwise she can cause chaos while asleep.
I’m lying on my back, next to Orna, cloak drawn across my body and over my head. I turn slightly, careful not to break Drust’s masking spell. I look across to where Connla is. And see a demon.
For a second I think I’m still dreaming, because the demon doesn’t appear to be attacking Connla. It’s crouched beside him, bent over, head close to his, as though talking. And when I prick my ears I can hear it whispering.
A drop of rain hits me square between the eyes. I blink — then snap out of my stupor. Leaping to my feet, I roar at the top of my voice, “
Demons!
”
Everyone comes alive in an instant, on their feet, weapons in hands. Ronan notches an arrow to his bow, takes aim, and... stops as the demon turns to look at him. I see Ronan’s fingers quiver, his face twitch, his eyes narrow. He wants to unleash the arrow but he can’t. The demon’s controlling him.
Lorcan attacks, sword and axe a blur, screaming a challenge. The demon points with a lumpy, pale red hand. And Lorcan stops too, not frozen in place exactly but hovering beyond striking distance of the demon, unable to advance.
Goll and Orna are about to leap forward when Drust shouts, “No! Leave him!”
The druid is sitting up. His hands are joined. His lips are moving quickly, gaze fixed on the demon. He looks more purposeful than frightened.
Nobody moves. All eyes are pinned on the demon and the druid. Now that my sight has adjusted and there’s time to observe, I get a clear view of the monster. It’s tall, with eight arms, roughly shaped hands, dangling strips of flesh instead of legs and feet. Hovering in the air, not touching the ground. Pale red skin, flecked with blood. At first I think it’s Connla’s blood — I’m sure he’s dead — but then I notice scores of cracks in the demon’s skin, from which blood oozes, giving the lumpy flesh its unhealthy crimson tinge. No hair. Its eyes are dark red, with a black circle at the center of each globe. No nose, just two gaping cavities in the middle of its face. No heart either — just a hole in its chest filled with eel-like creatures, which slither over and under one another, hissing and spitting.
The demon cocks its head and smiles sadly at Drust. “You are powerful, druid. The girl too, if she could only learn what you teach her.”
Complete shock. I’ve never heard a demon speak like this, in words of our own. It —
he
— has a deep, sorrowful voice. Not entirely human, but the words are clearly formed. A demon who can speak as a human must also be able to think as a human. Drust’s prediction — and our worst fear — has been confirmed.
Then the meaning of his words hits home. He knows Drust has been trying to teach me. He knows I’ve been failing. That means he can either read minds or...
“He’s been following us!” I shriek, taking a step towards the heartless creature.
“Bec!” Drust hisses. “Don’t get involved!”
“But —”
“Such sadness,” the demon murmurs. “So much pain. A quest doomed to fail. This land overrun by demons. Everybody killed. And all your fault, Little One. Your people will die because you failed them. Imagine the humiliation and guilt.”
I tremble, not wanting to believe him. But he sounds so sure of himself, so certain this is what the future holds. There’s pity in his voice. I get the feeling he wants to comfort me. As I’m thinking this, the demon extends two arms and nods encouragingly. “Come to me,” he whispers. “Seek solace in the embrace of loving Lord Loss.”
I move closer to him,
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