Extract from Book Two

John Erickson
Illustration & Graphic Design
johnraptor@aol.com
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Drawn by: John Erikson

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A loud crash caught me off guard. I started and whirled around to see that Aylara's palfrey, Salori, in the neighbouring stall, had reared, and her hooves were now clattering against the gate of her stall. She wasn't alone in her distress. The other horses were whinnying, their hooves grinding on the ground, or clattering against the stalls that held them confined. I had never seen them so frightened before and it scared me because I had no idea what had caused it, or what damage they might do to themselves in their panic.

I felt a hard blast of air on my neck suddenly and I turned around to see that Midnight now shared their panic. His large, dark eyes had rolled up so that I could see the whites and his sleek body was covered in a layer of foamy sweat. I reached out to grab his reigns, to try and calm him, but he reared up and I narrowly escaped his hooves as I threw myself against the side of the stall.

Then I caught the scent of something heavy and sweet, cloying and suffocating, in the air. A scent that reminded me of the heavy perfumed flowers and scented candles that were burned at a funeral. A scent that reminded me of death. It was something that I'd smelt before and now I knew where, in the dream I'd had before Trellany had recovered, and then again in my room when I'd felt as though I was being watched. A feeling I had again now

I backed out of the stall, half-afraid that Midnight would dash my brains out with his hooves if he reared, or crush me, if he tried to run for freedom. I bolted his stall door tight, with shaking fingers, but it did nothing to calm him and he carried on, grinding the air with his hooves, whinnying and snorting, throwing his head from side to side in his panic.

I turned away, towards the door and some help, and then I saw who, or rather, what, had alarmed them.

It was a dark shadow, one I'd seen before in a dream of the dark eyed child. There it had danced and shifted amongst the claws of the three-headed dragon that had filled the cell. When I'd woken, I'd thought it just a dream, like the dragon itself, only I couldn't think that anymore, the horses were all too afraid of it.

Unlike the shadow man that had tried to kill me in White Oaks, this had no fixed shape. It was a vapid creature, unreal and wispy, constantly moving. Like some sort of reverse flame, it seemed to have drawn in all the light around it, and it radiated coldness. It was probably responsible for the sudden drop in temperature in the stable. It didn't feel alive, this mist, not a man under a glamour or some sort of magical creature. If anything I got the impression that it was very, very dead. But, I knew, somehow, that unlike the shadow man in White Oaks, this wouldn't harm me.

Still, when it shifted and started to move towards me, oozing across the floor, I backed away.

“W-what do you want?” I asked it, my voice shaking as my hand reached for the sword I wore at my waist, as though I could somehow protect myself against a shadow with it. There was no answer and the mist continued to move towards me. I nearly laughed then, a panicked sort of laugh, as I realised this thing couldn't answer me, it had no mouth! The cold was intense now, my body felt as though it had been plunged into a bath of ice. All the little hairs on my body had stood up on end and my teeth were chattering. I forced myself to take another step back and then another, but it was still closing on me and I knew that I'd soon be trapped against the back wall of the stable. “Is it the child that you want?” I asked desperately. “I-I don't know where it is, or how to find it, b-but you seemed to want it when you moved among the dragon's claws in my dream . . . Or is it me that you want?” There was still no response, but a moment later I had my answer as the shadow suddenly touched me.

It was an icy touch, so cold that it burned me and I stumbled back, crashing into the wall, knocking a few bridles down from their hooks. I couldn't believe that it had touched me. That it had laid its . . . shadow on me. I glanced at my hand, at my arm, roughly shoved up the tunic sleeve to see if it had left some sort of mark, but there was nothing there. Nothing at all, I just felt cold all over.

Slowly I lifted my head. The shadowy mass still stood there, only now it seemed to be in the shape of a tall woman, a curvaceous silhouette, clear and yet somehow distorted. I could see the lines of her breasts, the curve of her hips and the dark mass of her hair, that whipped and flickered about her. And then there were her eyes, very bright blue, almost glowing, like the stars in the sky, and they were looking at me, speaking to me . . .

“Prince Candale?” the voice was hesitant. “Prince Candale, I could hear the noise from outside! What spooked the horses?” A stable-girl, no more than fifteen, had appeared in the doorway, I could see her through the flickering mass of black mist. I couldn't speak to answer her, but as she moved into the room, bringing another lantern with her, she distracted me and I tore my eyes away from the wavering fog.

And it vanished.