Shadowborn Read online

  BOOKS BY JOSEPH DEVEAU

  Threads of Fate

  Shadowborn

  Shadowborn

  JOSEPH DEVEAU

  Shadowborn by Joseph DeVeau

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

  Copyright © 2014 by Joseph DeVeau

  www.josephdeveau.com

  Cover Artwork by LeAndra Dawn

  Published by JD Bookworks

  ISBN-978-0-9963376-3-2

  First Edition: May 2015

  Printed in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  FOR RANGER,

  the most faithful friend and

  companion I could have ever asked for.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I would like to thank all who read this work and provided feedback, especially my parents, Don and Laurie, for their brutally honest critique and steadfast support.

  A big thanks to two miniature dachshunds, Tucker and Saydee, and one friendly black lab, Ranger, who provided warmth, comfort, and encouragement whenever the light at the end of the tunnel dimmed.

  Shadowborn

  Prologue

  Revelations

  Asher stood in the deep dark overhang of a sprawling estate, watching, waiting. A minute went by. Ten. He did not move, not even to scratch the itch that cropped up on his nose or shift his feet from cramping muscles.

  An hour turned into three. Perfectly still but for eyes flicking back and forth, he remained. Every whisper of wind, every wrinkle in the darkness, and every shift of the clouds across the moon spawned images of macabre horrors lurking in the shadows. They watched, waiting for him to falter.

  The God protected, but so too did the God devour. Asher knew that now. For he had peeked behind the curtain and had found darkness where there should have been light.

  No, it was worse than that. Much worse. He might have been able to handle the darkness had it been empty.

  But the darkness had not been empty, had it? asked a silent voice in his head.

  Asher shivered despite the season’s growing warmth. He wished he could silence that voice. That one and all the others that called out his faith for what it was: a lie.

  The idea was ludicrous; no one could fight the darkness. It brimmed with nightmares given flesh.

  Once more, Asher firmed his resolve to stay. No matter what lurked just out of sight, no matter what tortures would greet him if he were found out, he simply had too. His message was too important to abandon.

  A Lord approached from down the street. The clouds parted and cast deep shadows into the hollows of the man’s cheeks. The wind rustled and the Lord’s clothing, which hung loose over a gaunt form despite a master tailor’s best efforts.

  Gravel crunched beneath the Lord’s feet. He jerked his head left and right and peered into the darkness. Had he known what it contained, he would have run until his legs gave out, then crawled until his knees followed suit. The darkness was no place for someone used to the light.

  A rat skittered away. The Lord jumped back a pace. One hand flew to his chest to cover his pounding heart. The other went to the gilded knife at his belt. Hilt inset with rubies and sapphires, blade covered in filigreed script, it was every bit as lavish as his richly colored and embroidered silken robes.

  Garbed in simple black woolens, Asher studied the alleys and streets, checking and rechecking to ensure no one had followed the Lord. To his eyes, the night was lit as though the sun still hung a handswidth over the sparkling waters to the west. At least when clouds obscured it appeared that way. The rest of the time, when the stars twinkled freely and the moonlight filtered down unimpaired, there were shadows that even his eyes could not pierce. Those were the ones he watched for, fearful.

  Asher waited, unseen, until he felt the air swirl against his face from the Lord’s short, sharp breaths.

  “Lord Merek,” Asher whispered, “you came.”

  Lord Merek nearly jumped out of his skin. His eyes twitched, nervously searching the darkness. Asher could almost feel the Lord’s thumping heart and the blood as it pulsed through bulging veins. Blade outstretched in a shaking hand, Lord Merek approaching slowly, stiffly.

  “Is it really you?” Lord Merek asked. He flinched at the sound of his own voice.

  Asher Drifted and the night dimmed. It was painful to see Lord Merek cower. “It’s me,” he said. He finished his Drift and stepped forward. Darkness took over. He found himself squinting down what had but moments ago been a nicely lit street, felt his hand wrap about the hilt of his plainly made steel knife. He fought the urge to draw it. Only with conscious effort did he restrain himself from Drifting back so his eyes were useful once more.

  Lord Merek exhaled deeply. “You were gone for so long I was afraid I’d lost you. I’ve missed—” Just as he moved in, arms flung wide to pull Asher into a hug, the clouds parted and a ray of moonlight peaked through. Lord Merek froze midstep. His face creased and the bags beneath his eyes grew heavier. “You’ve changed.”

  “As will you when you hear what I have to say.”

  “You’ve found them then?” A tiny flicker of hope, no more than a single candlelight against a shut and shuttered cellar, popped into existence.

  “Yes,” Asher said. “Which means this will be the last time we meet.”

  “No! I’ll help! I—“

  Asher held up a hand and cut the Lord short. “This is how it must be. There is no other way.”

  “There has to be. We could—“

  “There is no ‘we,’” Asher said. “Not anymore.”

  “But—“

  “You wouldn’t be so insistent if you knew what I knew.”

  “Then tell me,” Lord Merek pleaded. Hands clasped together, he fell forward onto his knees. “Please.”

  Arms flashing out, Asher pulled the Lord to his feet. He could not bear to see the Lord grovel. He thought for a minute, then broke the silence.

  “On your life, you must keep what I say secret.”

  “Secret?” Never have there been any secrets between us,” Lord Merek said.

  “Yes, secret,” Asher barked. He looked about, worried he had been too loud.

  “Even from her? Surely whatever you say to me you can tell to her. She is your—”

  “No,” Asher said once he had his voice under control and was sure no one had overheard. If a Shade or, especially, a Voice, found out you knew, much less that she did as well. . .” the faintest ray of moonlight enabled him to hold the Lord’s gaze. “Well, let us just say that Nameless himself would not be able to help you.”

  Panic flashed through the Lord’s eyes, dimming the spark until the slightest breeze would extinguish it. Hand to his chest, he lowered his head.

  “I give you my oath.”

  “See that you keep it.” Asher took a deep breath and began. “I have not learned everything. Not, I suspect, by a long shot. But what I have learned. . .”

  Glancing at the moon’s passage, he spoke quickly but efficiently, hitting the crucial points. This time of night was the busiest time for Shades and Voices. Already gone for far too long, his absence would be noted soon. Worse, someone might stumble upon his rendezvous with a past he was supposed to have left behind. If that happened, all would be lost.

  Lord Merek’s eyes widened as Asher spoke, each
point hammering them open further and kindling the spark within. By the time he finished, they were full, gleaming moons that glowed with an inner fire.

  “There can be no other conclusion,” Asher said. He shook his head. “We have been played for fools.”

  “Oh yes,” Lord Merek said. “We have indeed been played for fools. But no longer.” The moons ignited into twin suns that seemed to push back the very darkness itself. Asher took an involuntary step away from the intense heat. Back straight, jaw set, Lord Merek looked the very image of the self-assured man he had once been. When he spoke again, his voice was unbarred steel, fresh from the forging. “Whatever plans you made, cast them aside.”

  “But—“

  “No.” Lord Merek rested a hand on Asher’s shoulder. “I am done being scared of the Shadows.” He said the word with a sneer of derisiveness that made Asher flinch.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I, my dear boy, am going to become a Shadow,” Lord Merek said.

  “And then?” Asher found himself fearing the Lord’s response more than any of the nightmares the darkness held.

  “Then,” the Lord Merek said, his face chiseled stone, “we are going to kill a God.”

  1

  Just Another Day

  Pulling her ragged coat closed as best she could against the night’s chill breeze, Aeryn stifled a shivering yawn. She wished the summer would hurry up and get here. Simple, threadbare clothes offered little protection against the cold. They offered even less from the wind.

  The only consolidation was the still-warm wall of the smithy at her back. She idly wondered when Ty, now apprenticed in the very building, had last had his hands turn white from cold, or felt his feet go numb. Not that he ever had cause for either in the first place, corded by muscle as he was. Ironically, that had been the reason Master Luggard had plucked Ty from the streets in the first place—to work the sweltering forge.

  Still, Aeryn could do without the wet fog that rolled in from the Kasperi Sea. Thankfully, Maerilin’s winters did not include any of that bitter white stuff the northern merchants called snow; she had only experienced it twice in her life and that was two times too many.

  Aeryn glanced at the moon’s hazy outline. How long before Will arrived? It was not like him to be late, especially not the night of a job.

  She suppressed the urge to go check on him. Her stomach desperately needed the coin he had promised. If she was not here when he arrived, he might find someone to help him. There was a bloody long line of street urchins with nothing to lose and everything to gain ready to snatch up her place. So far, Will had stuck with Aeryn because she was good at what she did. But ability only went so far when weighed against stacks of copper, the rare silver, and the near mythical gold. So, shifting the plain steel dagger at her belt, its wooden hilt long since worn smooth, she waited.

  The soft pitter-patter of footsteps sounded from the end of the alley nearly an hour later.

  “Finally,” Aeryn whispered to herself as she pushed from the building. Her fingers would be hard pressed to work a doorknob or window latch, and her feet had long since gone numb, making stealth a haphazard affair at best.

  The footsteps materialized into a boy so slim and slight he made Aeryn look like Ty in comparison. That was hard to do. Aeryn could feel her skin stretched tight over ribs for not having eaten anything in two days. Not for the first time, she wondered how things would have been different had she had ample bosoms. She could have worked indoors, had a cozy room all to her own, clothing, a bed. . .and men on top of her.

  Aeryn shook her head to banish the image. Better to look like a boy than a full-bodied woman. She had seen firsthand what happened to girls unlucky enough to draw the hungry eyes of street thugs, strongarms, sailors, and down-on-their-luck sellswords. Their eyes went dull and listless all too quickly.

  “Alright,” Will said between sucking breaths, “let’s go.”

  “What happened?” Aeryn asked.

  “Nothing.” If there was one surefire way to know when Will was hiding something, it was when he did not want to talk. Of course, the rest of the time he opened his mouth was downright lying, but that was another matter entirely.

  “What happened?” Aeryn narrowed her eyes. “The only time you’ve ever been this late was when you saw a Shadow. That, and you’re breathing as if you’ve run the entire way here.”

  “Someone has been poking around my lair.” Will’s voice was so quiet Aeryn had to strain to hear. His lair. As if a boarded over, dead-end alleyway stuffed to the seams with goods he had yet to fence was some grand, hidden treasure room.

  “Jins? He always has had it out for you.”

  “No.” Will shook his head. “Jins and his gang are typical strongarms and thugs: not quite skilled enough to be sellswords and not quite smart enough to hold their tongues. Heck, they are about as blunt as those cudgels they carry. Besides,” Will added with a sly grin, “Jins is in love with this girl Marilyn—“

  “You didn’t.” Had Will lost his mind? Blackmailing Jins? Will had hit the nail on the head earlier: Jins was too stupid and brutish to see beyond a pair of legs or flash of coin. Sooner or later—Aeryn had bets on it being sooner—Jins would become desperate. No one lived to cross a desperate thug twice.

  Will’s grin turned into a full-blown smile. “Sure did. Jins and his little gang won’t be bothering me anytime soon.” Aeryn sighed as Will went on, wondering if the open sewer outside his alley had addled his brain. “Anyway, I know it’s not Jins because they’ve been quiet as a mouse and half as visible.”

  At least Will had gotten that part right. Jins and his gang could not sneak up on a drunken sailor passed out cold and lying in a pool of his own sickup. However, that did leave a troubling point. Aeryn had been to Will’s place only hours earlier and had not seen anyone either. On second thought, that in itself was a much more likely explanation. Will was burdened with an overactive imagination. After all, what use would a Shadow have for a hoard of filched trinkets and knickknacks? Only, if she said as much, it would convince him there were Shadows lurking outside his lair.

  She knew one surefire way to keep him moving forward. “Do you want to call off the job? We can stop in and talk to Ty,” she rapped on the wall of the smithy with her knuckles, “and have him stand watch outside your place.”

  “Ty would rather make swords than swing them. It’ll be months before I get another shot at this job. Brin and Bran are standing watch while I’m out. Those flaming twins charged me triple their normal rate, all under the guise of having seen Shadows lurking about.” His hand went to his waist, as though feeling the weight missing from his purse. “Never should have bloody said anything.” Despite all his grumbling, the homely twins were Will’s favorite strongarms. Brin and her brother Bran could scare off most would-be thieves with their disfigured faces and scarred arms alone. “Let’s go.”

  Sticking pinched fingers into her mouth, Aeryn blew out a shrill, piercing whistle. “Lead on,” she said and swept her arm down the street. Afraid someone would hit his targets first, Will never shared where they were going before he absolutely had to.

  “If I pay you extra, can you not do that next time?” Will strode into the street and made his way toward a wide stable with a long, gradually sloping roof. “I hate that mutt,” he added as he passed Aeryn.

  Aeryn swept her leg to the side, hitting Will’s and sending him stumbling. Hopping nimbly away from his windmilling arms, she danced around to his back, using her superior night vision to avoid twisting an ankle on a missing cobble. She gave his back a little push. He crashed to the ground with a grunt.

  “Hey! What’d you bloody do that for?”

  Aeryn stood poised above him, hands on her hips. “Jynx—that mutt, as you put it—has saved your ass time and again and you know it.”

  “No,” Will said, rolling to his knees and pushing to his feet. “He’s saved your ass.” He dusted off his clothes as though they were made of silk. �
��I’ve never needed saving; I’ve always had the situations totally in control. Not to mention that Jynx likes me as much as a cat likes the sea.”

  As if on cue, a blurred, misty form congealed out of the fog ahead. In its place stood a waist-high draven, its fur painted in splotches of grays, browns, and blacks. Mouth open in a snarl that showed thick, hand-length white fangs, it took a silent, menacing step forward.

  “Nice doggie,” Will began to quiver as the “dog” stalked forward. The moonlight showed a bit of ripped flesh hanging from a bone in Jynx’s teeth. “Ok, maybe Jynx helped a little.”

  The draven’s claws clicked against the cobbles. A faint snarl hissed into the night.

  “Ok, ok.” Will held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Jynx saved my ass.”

  “Just once?”

  Jynx’s teeth snapped shut, severing the bone in two.

  “No! A couple times!”

  “What, like two times? How many years have we worked together Will?” Aeryn asked. “Ten? And you think Jynx has only saved your ass twice?”

  “Fine, twenty times! Fifty! I don’t know; a hundred! Now bloody tell him not to eat me,” Will cried out.

  “Oh stop whimpering,” Aeryn said with a grin as she pushed past Will. “Jynx probably doesn’t like you because you practically faint every time you see him. Just like Rickon does whenever he hears a Voice, sees a Shade, or gets a few extra copper to tithe.”

  Will stomped his foot. “I do not.” His voice sounded hollow. “Besides, anyone in their right mind would be scared of that.”

  Aeryn knelt next to the draven. “He doesn’t mean it Jynx. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” she said softly while petting him on the head. She pointedly ignored the grunt from behind and flipped out her plain belt knife. “Now hold still. You’ve got something in your teeth.”