61.

  Before I even had time to register how terrified I was, Somnix was on me. I hadn't seen the creature move. It was like his body twitched and one second he was 10 feet away from me, and the next, he was in front of me. I also didn't see the fist coming. He hit me the hardest I'd ever been hit in my entire life. He hit me so hard, parts of my body just gave up. Nerves shut down, bits of me disconnected from reality and consciousness. I didn't even realize I was flying across the room until I hit the floor, my body was completely limp like I was a drunk in a car accident. I don't know how long I skidded across the flagstones for, but when I stopped, I couldn't feel anything. My entire body had shut down. I blinked, rolled my eyes, and saw Somnix approaching me calmly. I could feel the heavy thud of his hooves vibrating the flagstones under my cheek.

  "Foolish little boy," Somnix spat. "Learned a few magic tricks and thought you could tangle with a being of my immeasurable power? Pathetic."

  I felt true fear then. Not even facing down that thug with the gun, knowing I was about to die, came close. This was something different. This was the feeling of knowing that my physical body would die but that my soul would also be destroyed. Somnix would mangle me, mutilate me beyond recognition, and I would be lucky if he did it quickly.

  He stopped in front of me, and I saw him summon a thin, cruel-looking blade made of pure shadow. He twirled it above me, pointed it down at me, and then raised his hand.

  "Shame, mortal," he said. "With a mind full of such horror as yours, I could have spent decades torturing you before your body finally gave out. But I suppose for one night, Somnix shall be merciful.”

  I saw the point of the blade twinkle in the candlelight, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. Nothing in my body was responding. I just lay there, limp and useless, like a stunned cow about to be put down and butchered. And then Somnix's back exploded. Feathers flew as the Pigeon King hurled himself at Somnix, latching onto his back with his talons and digging his beak into the creature's neck. Black blood squirted from the wound as Somnix roared in pain, staggering under the weight of the Pigeon King and the ferocity of his attack. I watched the Pigeon King peck at Somnix's ears, eyes, jaw, and the top of his head. He was like a woodpecker going at a giant redwood.

  They both stumbled backwards, and then Somnix summoned another shadow monster. This one was another snake thing, but with the face of a lion. It slunk into being and fell out of the sky onto the Pigeon King, its weight ripping the bird from Somnix's back, taking two huge chunks of his back flesh in his talons. The Pigeon King cried out as he was smothered under the weight of the giant snake. It had to be at least 20 feet long, and I saw it coil around the Pigeon King and begin squeezing. It completely smothered him, all I could see was one of the Pigeon King’s wings and a talon sticking out between the coils as it crushed him.

  Somnix turned, blood pouring from his face, and one of his eyes was missing. He didn't speak this time, he didn't gloat. He spat blood from his mouth and summoned a spear of shadow into his hand. He stomped over to the Pigeon King, raising it as he did.

  "No!" I cried out weakly, my body suddenly putting the connections back together and turning the lights on. I scrambled to my feet and stumbled forward. The Chain had disappeared in my disorientation. I only had one weapon left. Panicking, I raised my left hand.

  "Bang, bang, bang, bang!" I screamed desperately and sent volleys of force at Somnix.

  I might as well have blown at him like I was trying to put out candles on a birthday cake for all the effect it had. He didn't even notice at first, and then he turned to look at me quizzically.

  "Is that it?" he asked, and I looked down at my silly little gun fingers and back at him. "You just stay there, mortal, and watch your Pigeon King die, knowing that this time, I will not be slow with you." He raised the spear again.

  Panic lit my brain and body up as adrenaline smashed through my system and burned away the fugue of dread Somnix had filled me with. I couldn’t let him kill the Pigeon King! He was my liege after all.

  "No, you won't!" I screamed at him, suddenly feeling the reassuring weight of the Rune Chain in my hand again.

  I lashed out at Somnix, catching him around the wrist that held the spear. I tussled with him for a moment, and then he yanked me forward, clearly annoyed by my constant interference.

  "Time to die, mortal!" he growled, a sword appearing in his other hand as he pulled me straight onto it. And then I made one of the worst mistakes of my short and unremarkable life.

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  "Bind!" I screamed, and suddenly Somnix froze, the snake thing froze, and I froze.

  I reacted without thinking, without remembering the Pigeon King’s warning. I panicked. Binding isn’t a matter of physical strength or even skill; it is a pure battle of wills. And in that arena, Somnix was a professional heavyweight champion, and I was a toddler with a pair of oversized boxing mitts.

  "Fool," I heard Somnix growl.

  Just as he swallowed my consciousness, I heard the Pigeon King scream.

  "No, mageling!"

  The whole world changed.

  Where was I? What had I been doing?

  I was back in utter darkness. It was the darkness of my subconscious again, so black that for a moment I didn’t even think I was real, that I had a body, or that I had limbs that could move. There was just sheer, utter nothingness. There was no Somnix, no Pigeon King, no organ playing, no blood, no shadow monsters, and no fear. It was just utter, pure emptiness. I felt like a floating, disembodied waif, bouncing about the darkness, unchained and unfettered, with no idea of how I had come to be or what was happening.

  Then I heard a sound in the nothingness. It was almost impossible to perceive at first, so quiet, so gentle, but it drew me. It drew my shapeless form like a moth to a flame as I floated listlessly, drawn closer. And then I heard it clearly, a sound that utterly broke me. I heard a sound that stabbed me to the core and hurt me in ways that I didn't think were possible. I heard my Grandad’s voice for the first time in over a year. He was singing. Grandad never sang; he wasn't the type, even after a few short stouts. But when I was little, and I was scared, or I couldn't sleep, or I missed my parents, Grandad would sing to me. He crooned some old silly song about the cow jumping over the moon, and it never failed to make me giggle and settle me down.

  It made me feel safe.

  And I could hear it now, echoing in the distant blackness. I felt wetness on my cheeks. The agony of my loss hit me all over again in a wave of anguish. The sound was getting clearer now, louder. Grandad had a wonderfully soothing voice, deep and rumbly, that seemed to come straight from his chest. I remembered being small and scared, curling up against his chest while he patted me on the back and rocked me in his chair, his voice rumbling in my ear and filling me with a sense of security my young life had never had.

  I reached a hand out to the sound.

  "Grandad," I whispered. “It's me, it's Alex.”

  I stumbled forward, tears blurring my vision, and suddenly there was a door in front of me. I knew this door; I saw it every day of my life. It was the door to my living room, and it was slightly ajar. The blissful singing came from within. I pushed the door open gently and saw him there, as clear as I'd seen him a thousand times before, sitting in his chair, rocking backwards and forwards gently, the old chair creaking good-naturedly. I could see the tips of his slippers, green and faded as always, and the back of his head with his grey tufts of hair and his long-ago bald pate. I could see his shoulders and his arms wrapped up in his old faded brown cardigan that my Grandmother, who I'd never met, had knitted for him long ago. Every year it became baggier and baggier. He had his arms wrapped around someone… a small boy who was curled up against his chest. Was that me? Fresh sobs racked my chest as I stumbled into the room. It was exactly as I knew it to be, but now the curtains were wide open, the TV was on, and there was no picture of Grandad on the mantle, no jar with his ashes in it. The place was clean and felt like a home. My home.

  "Grandad," I croaked again, the hope in my voice almost heartbreaking.

  I stepped further into the room. But… something was wrong. There was no sound coming from the TV. There was no air. The wallpaper was the wrong color, and so was the carpet. Everything was a muted grey, bleeding into blacks and whites.

  "Grandad," I said again, my voice small and afraid. I reached a hand out, touched his shoulder, and he crumpled to ash. "Grandad!" I screamed, leaping towards the sofa.

  Now the chair disintegrated into ash, the walls suddenly fell apart, the TV, the carpet, the tables, everything turned to ash. The little boy in Grandad's arms was the only thing left. I collapsed, kneeling in darkness, staring at the boy, but the boy had no face, and he wasn't moving.

  "Grandad," I said again. "Grandad!" I screamed into the darkness, clawing at the pile of ash.

  "Mageling," a very faraway voice cried to me. "Mageling!"

  But I wasn't listening. I was sobbing now, piles of my Grandad's ashes surrounding me, choking me. I buried my hands in the piles, weeping openly, the little faceless boy staring at me. I beat the ground with my fists in desperation.

  “Grandad!” I screamed.

  “He’s not coming back,” the faceless boy said, his voice sweet and innocent. “They never come back, do they Alex?”

  I looked up at him, my lips quivering as fear flooded through my body.

  “They always leave, don’t they Alex?” the boy said, his voice growing deeper and more feral. “What’s wrong with you? Why do they always leave you?”

  “I-I…” I stuttered, falling backwards away from the boy.

  “It’s your fault, you know that, don’t you Alex?” The boy rose to his knees.

  I shook my head.

  “No…” I said, my voice a powerless gasp of air. “No… I didn’t… I…”

  “What’s wrong with you!” the faceless boy screeched and leapt at me, wrapping his hands around my throat. “Useless! Worthless!” he screamed as he choked me.

  I tried to prise his hands loose but he was too strong. He dragged me towards him and then we fell backwards into the pile of ashes, and he pulled me down, down through the carpet and into darkness.

  “Grandad! Help me!”

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