Sword of the Archon: Shader Series book 1 by D.P. Prior

Author:D.P. Prior [Prior, D.P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Shader
Publisher: Homunculus Books
Published: 2013-11-17T05:00:00+00:00

THE SHAMAN AND THE IPSISSIMUS

Huntsman’s stubbly legs probed at the base of the door, the hairs on his back sticking up, mandibles tasting the air. Flattening himself, he scuttled through the gap, feeling the floorboards for tell-tale vibrations, listening, watching, scenting. Besides the musk of disuse and the smell of rotting vegetables, there was nothing.

Drumming his limbs on the floor, he shuddered and split, wriggled and grew, the air about him shimmering until he once more stood in the form of a man. He felt his cheeks, touched both arms and rocked from foot to foot. A wave of nausea passed from his stomach to his head. Grimacing, he shook himself and sucked in a gulp of stale air. Satisfied the room was unoccupied, he opened the door and Sammy entered, bleary-eyed and yawning.

Dust lay thick upon the hardwood floor and swirled in moats where light peeked through holes in the curtains. Sammy tugged them open and leaned his chin on the windowsill. Huntsman put his hands on the boy’s shoulders and peered over his head.

A death-cart was being loaded with bodies from the house across the street by heavily cloaked and masked orderlies, whilst an unmasked woman robed in white looked on. Vast towers dominated the distance, and buildings of brick, iron, and wood sprawled in every direction, scabs on the skin of Sahul.

“Why are there so many dead people in Sarum?” Sammy asked.

“Plague. But do not worry, little fellah, it does no harm to children.” He had intuited that much from the distressed cries of the statue—not audible cries, but sensations, ripples deep in the marrow he had felt since the Reckoning when it tore him apart and forged him anew. The polluting of its power by unnatural currents affected the soul before spreading to the body. Like the Kutji spirits, it fed on disorder and impurity. Where those things were not present, it could not take hold.

Sammy looked reassured and sat himself on a wooden pallet strewn with stained blankets. He yawned widely, but refused to give in to sleep. Huntsman smiled at him, seating himself in a decrepit rocking chair by the door. The boy lay down his head and began to hum a tune, his eyelids growing heavier.

“Why is the red rock burning?” Sammy muttered.

Huntsman cast his eyes around the room. “What red…?”

And then he realized. The boy meant the Homestead. Sahul must still be talking to Sammy, showing him the events that scarred her past.

“Long time ago, little fellah. Do not worry now. Red rock is safe.”

Sammy sat bolt upright. “No,” he said. “Not safe. Monsters are coming. Metal monsters and fire. Lots of fire.”

Huntsman rocked forward and forced a smile, hoping he could keep the pain of the past from his eyes. “I was there,” he said in a soothing tone. “I made them go away. It will not happen again.”

Sammy stared right through him, as if he were focused on something else. “You are wrong. The stars run backwards. He comes for them.

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