‘Sounds familiar,’ Annev said, the irony not lost on him. ‘Did he say who was sent?’
Sodar nodded, expression sombre. ‘An assassin. A ghost. He was once a Kroseran shadowcaster named Oyru. Now he is a Si?nar – one of the six keokum that serve Dortafola.’
A ghost … a shadow. Annev remembered the man wearing death’s cloak and he shivered. ‘A man cloaked in light and shadow?’ Sodar nodded. ‘I think he followed me from Banok,’ Annev admitted. ‘From Janak’s mansion.’
‘That would make sense. I believe I even suggested something like that might happen if you left the village.’
Annev lowered his head, ashamed once again for not heeding his mentor.
Sodar winced as he lifted an arm and placed a hand on Annev’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. You did well to escape him, but we should be running even now. The Shadow Reborn is an unnatural adversary – much more powerful than Tosan – and I expect he played a part in bringing these monsters here.’
‘But why?’ Annev asked, shaking his head. ‘Why hunt me?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? He is searching for you, Annev. Keos is searching for you.’
Annev looked around at the ruined village, at the scattered bodies of the feurog and humans. ‘He wants to extinguish the bloodline of Breathanas … and he’ll kill everyone here to get to me?’ Sodar nodded and Kelga’s maddened words echoed in Annev’s mind: ‘The Shadowcaster hunts him. The Shadow God wants him. The Fallen God needs him.’
There was so much Annev didn’t understand. Had Kelga been a servant of Keos? She had been mad, but her words … she had mentioned one of the Younger Gods. Janak had said Cruithear was hunting for him – the God of Minerals had even promised the man new legs in exchange for capturing Annev – but he didn’t see how the pieces fitted together.
First Kelga and Janak … and now Oyru.
‘We should go,’ Sodar said. ‘The village is lost, and there is no place for us here. We have to go before the Shadow finds you – or Tosan does.’
A woman’s scream pierced the air and Annev turned towards its source. The group of villagers next to Sraon’s forge were milling about in confusion and fear.
‘They need our help, Sodar.’
The priest paused, looking in the direction of the commotion. ‘I promised I would keep you safe, Annev. Sraon is with them, as are your avatar friends, and the monsters are retreating. We should go before we’re seen or before the Shadow finds us.’ Sodar shuffled away from the screaming. ‘I’d like to return to the chapel first. I left Toothbreaker for you – it doesn’t fit in my bottomless sack – but now we can carry it with us.’ Sodar rattled on, oblivious to Annev’s hesitation.
These monsters are here because of me, Annev thought. If I run now and leave the villagers to fight alone, I will be the monster they believe me to be.
‘… packed the rest in the sack,’ Sodar continued. ‘I even brought the Speur Dún manuscripts.’ He paused, finally realising Annev wasn’t following him. ‘Hurry up, boy.’
Annev shook his head. ‘I can’t.’
Sodar frowned. ‘You’re not still mooning after that girl, are you? Master Aog didn’t hold his tongue when he whipped me. Myjun attacked you when she saw your hand. She doesn’t love you, Annev. She doesn’t even know you.’
Annev gritted his teeth and the blue-white flames of his sword once again began to purple. He struggled to keep from shouting. ‘I know she doesn’t love me. She wants—’ What did she want? He shook his head. ‘I’m not fighting for her. It’s for them.’ He gestured at the avatars and villagers surrounding Sraon’s forge. ‘They need us.’
Sodar shook his white-bearded chin. ‘Annev, you don’t—’
‘Would you really let them die, just like my parents?’ Annev barked.
Sodar’s mouth snapped shut and he stared at Annev, eyes cold.
Annev swallowed, trying to find the words. ‘In the Battle of Vosgar, Breathanas took up the Staff of Odar even though it could have destroyed him. He had the courage to help even if it meant sacrificing himself.’ Annev paused. ‘People are dying and we have the power to help them. You couldn’t do it before, but you can now.’
Sodar’s bottom lip began to tremble and a shuddering sigh escaped him. ‘You are right,’ he said slowly, his voice choked with emotion, ‘and I am a coward.’ He looked at the villagers surrounding Sraon’s shop. ‘Go. I will follow, and help. Hurry!’
Annev took off for the smithy like an arrow. His red-scaled cloak flapped in the wind as his magic boots sped him onward. He dashed through the streets, dodging the burned husks of homes and shops, then pulled up beneath the large roof covering the forge.
In the shadows beneath the awning, Lorn the baker repeatedly stabbed the earth with his boar spear, spitting curses and screaming. The avatars and villagers churned around him, some trying to calm the baker, others staying as far away as possible. This latter group seemed anxious to flee, yet wary of leaving the group.
Therin stood just outside the shadow of the awning, staring blankly at Lorn. Annev stepped in front of him and the scrawny boy jumped back, falling into monkey-fist stance. When Annev didn’t engage him, he blinked and seemed to recognise him, though he did not lower his hands.
‘Annev? What …?’
‘I’m here to help.’ He gestured at the sobbing baker. ‘What happened?’
Therin slowly rose from his crouched position and shifted from one foot to the other. ‘A shadow demon,’ he said finally. ‘With long, thin arms. It grabbed Rafela and dragged her … right into the ground.’ He shook his head. ‘Same thing in the Academy. Four of them came out of the walls. Kellor was right next to me in the mess hall and they dragged him under the table.’ He shuddered. ‘I almost didn’t get out.’
Annev looked at the group of gathered villagers, counting the avatars, stewards and masters. Not including Fyn, Titus or Therin, only four had escaped: the freckle-faced Alisander, chubby Chedwik with his fuzzy mutton-chops, the bull-necked Lemwich who carried Sraon’s smithing hammer and stood protectively in front of Titus, and Brinden, who carried a heavy iron poker and stood in the shadows with Fyn. He didn’t see a single acolyte, infant, or witwoman.
The usually reticent Lorn was beside himself, tearing at the ground, throwing chunks of earth into the air, screaming for the demons to come and fight him.
Sraon stood next to his smithing anvil with most of the other villagers. He was speaking softly to the widowed seamstress Alanna while Nikum the carpenter and Yohan the chandler argued with one another about what they had seen. Yohan spied Annev.
‘He’s the one responsible!’ the chandler shouted, mopping his sweat-sheened face. ‘Son of Keos! He brought the demons to us. He sacrificed us for dark powers.’ He spat at Annev.
Annev wheeled in anger, waving the fiery flamberge in Yohan’s face, forcing the chandler to step back. ‘I’m here to help you! I don’t worship—’