Shiloh by Helena Sorensen

Author:Helena Sorensen [Sorensen, Helena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction / Fantasy
ISBN: 9780996436861
Publisher: Brightener Books
Published: 2019-05-21T22:00:00+00:00

When Amos reached the Meander, Mordecai beckoned him onward. “Come,” he said. This time, he made no attempt to hide as he shifted into the form of a great owl and flew across the dark expanse of the water.

Amos first knelt down to drink. The events of that night had picked at the scabs of old wounds. He didn’t want to remember Phebe’s words or her screams. He didn’t want to remember the anguished look on Simeon’s face. So he drank again and again.

He looked down at himself, at his tunic, his leather trousers and boots. He looked like any other boy in Shiloh, stripped of everything that hinted of his former identity. Those things had been no more than leather and wood and string. Now they were nothing at all. Just ashes consumed by the power he carried with him, the power he carried within him.

He removed his tunic. He lifted his hand, the tips of his fingers growing hotter and brighter, and burned the sign of the Wolf into his chest: a circle, incomplete, surrounded by five pointed claws.

He jumped into the water.

Beneath him, through undulating weeds and darksome currents, he could make out a pale luminescence. He dove deeper to get a closer look, and a wan face emerged from the riverbed, its eyes glowing a livid blue-green.

“Welcome, Amos, Wielder of Fire.”

A hand rose out of the weeds, looking much like a lank weed itself, and moved toward Amos’s face. It stretched across his eyes, grabbing him at his temples. First he saw nothing, then there was a flash of fire, and then the hand was gone. The pale face looking back at him was not the face of a single creature as he had thought, but rather a writhing, twisting mass of worms that only resembled a face. The Nogworms. Amos had never seen them, but they felt right at home with him. They felt at home in him, in nearly every person in Shiloh. They were the parasites that filled the waters of the river. They were the decaying remains of the beautiful creatures that lived in the crystalline currents before the world was unmade. They were the dulling, numbing, warping, forgetting power that had settled into every corner of Amos’s body. The mass of Nogworms moved in unison, drawing the blue-green lips into a feral smile.

Amos swam the last stretch of river, emerged on the opposite shore where Mordecai watched from his perch high in the branches, and disappeared from Emmerich.

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