the land of their blight.’
‘You think we can?’
‘You cannot,’ he replied sharply, ‘we can.’
‘We?’ She glanced at him, terrified. ‘Who’s—’
She never finished the sentence, her breath robbed from her the moment her eyes met his. Perhaps it was the cover of smoke, the angle at which she saw him or stress from the horrors of the battlefield that twisted her vision. She prayed it was, for she saw his stare burning brightly through the smoke.
Pupilless.
She tightened her jaw, turned away, resolved not to look again.
‘Then what do we do?’
‘Stay,’ he commanded coldly. ‘We kill.’
‘You can’t kill that thing.’
‘He cannot,’ Lenk replied, ‘we can.’
‘Damn it,’ she muttered breathlessly, ‘of all the times for you to go completely insane, why did you have to choose the moment when I might die, too?’
If the young man had a reply for that, it was lost in the scurry of boots on burned earth. He was up, a flash of silver and blue, carving a path through the endless smoke towards his towering foe. The creature, for its part, seemed unimpressed.
Then, suddenly, it erupted.
‘The Shepherd is ever tireless! Ever vigilant!’ It roared and the frozen frogmen quaked against the ice. ‘It is through his mercy that deliverance is possible! It is through the Shepherd that Her mercy is ever known!’
Lenk lunged, and a great black arm shot out, seizing him about the waist.
Whatever madness or courage had shot him into the beast’s grasp vanished once he was drawn close enough to look into the thing’s eyes. It gurgled angrily, its blank gaze straining to express the fury its voice could only hint at in disjointed harmony.
That seemed to infuriate it.
‘Do not fear, my son,’ it murmured, ‘for even as you strike at me, I am ever bound to forgive you.’
It craned its arm up, raising him high into the sky, as if to present him to heaven for inspection. Its talons pierced Lenk’s flesh, he felt his tunic shredding, five warm pinpricks painted his body red. He felt a scream burst from his lungs, but heard no reply.
‘It is your nature to fear the unknown,’ it continued, a deep, resonant bass leaking through its many voices, ‘but the Shepherd knows no nature of his own. His life is duty, and his duty is life.’
A ray of sunshine split the smoke, shining down on Lenk.
‘Through Her, I grant you this,’ it gurgled, tightening its grip, ‘my mercy and my duty. I . . .’
It tilted its head, hesitant. Its eyes flickered once more as a twisted shriek tore itself from the creature’s maw.
‘I HATE YOU!’
The arm snapped down. Lenk hit the ice, shattered it, and descended below. He ploughed his grave with his body, shards digging into his back and flying up into the air. Even after he had stopped, he felt as though he were still falling, as though something else had torn itself from his body and vanished into the earth.
Through fluttering eyes, he saw the cold powder descending upon him, settling like a blanket, urging him to sleep. Even the sun still shone upon him. It felt warm; somehow, he knew he should have felt colder than he did.
‘What,’ he whispered, ‘what do we do now?’
No one answered him.
‘Can we survive?’
No one spoke to him.
‘I . . . think I’m going to die.’
No one reassured him.
The sun vanished behind a blot of ink. His eyes snapped open once, wide enough to see the outline of a webbed foot the size of his head rise above his face. He blinked, and it was still there. Then he felt his eyes shut themselves and it no longer existed.
The world was dark.
‘From Mother Deep to child,’ it all but whispered, ‘from child to mortal. This is your mercy. Sleep now,’ its foot tensed, ‘and dream of blue.’
The demon’s body convulsed suddenly. A sparrow with a silver beak sang through the air, burying itself in the Abysmyth’s ribcage. It hesitated, flinching as one flinches at bee-stings. It heard the sound of feet scampering on ice, the sound of something humming a solemn tune, the sound of air parting before metal.
Another arrow struck it, embedded itself in the creature’s neck.
It lowered its foot to the ground, swinging its head about to survey the ice. Nothing but still, solitary bodies and frozen faces met its gaze, mirroring the anger it yearned to express.
‘How many times must we go through this?’ it gurgled. ‘How many times must I be scorned before I show you the unreasonableness of your blasphemies?’
Upon hearing