Tundra

Mourning clouds gathered, black and heavy, and curtained off the sky. They rained pity down on the battlefield, cooling tempers, soothing hearts and washing the blood-caked snow away. With Erasmus dead and the Otherworld conquered, the Seafarers fell into bands again, lonely, wandering packs of men who questioned their judgment and lamented their losses. Slowly, the aurora winked out of existence above them, just as all the other banners of war were rolled up or cast aside in the mud. The only light left now came from the two elders, which still flashed colours at each other in a sad, slow kind of way. Eventually, they both turned cold, and the god that had once belonged to a man began its lumbering journey back to the ocean.

‘Where do you think it’s going?’ Hackley asked, leaning against me where I crouched beside the ruined skitterer. We were both exhausted, and had no more want of pretence or formality.

Aais sat beside us, oddly meditative, his scaled legs crossed and his webbed feet dug into the moisture in the mud. ‘Back to its school,’ he said, relishing the cool blessing of the rain on his semi-amphibious skin.

‘That thing has a school?’ Eiron sounded shocked, but his tone was partly joking. Victory seemed to have instilled him with some humour. ‘I may never sleep soundly again! Still, we won. And even better, nobody died.’ He sounded vaguely pleased, as though we had simply had a stroke of good luck, or some fortunate weather. ‘We all survived.’

‘No, we didn’t,’ said Hackley, in a small voice.

Eiron was disgruntled. ‘What?’

‘It’s not over,’ I confessed, deciding that I might as well get it out in the open, although I resented putting a damper on the celebrations. Get ready.’

As though he had been hiding just out of sight, the demon chose my words for the cue on which to appear. His grin glittered like the light from a thousand needles. His clawed hands were rubbing together in delight. At once, Eiron pulled his axe back to the ready.

‘What is that thing?’ he snarled.

‘You should run,’ I said miserably, but in an even tone. ‘You should all get as far away from me as possible.’

Eiron refused. ‘No,’ he said stubbornly.

‘He is trying to help you, Seafarer.’ The demon raised a cautionary claw to match its arrogant voice. ‘It won’t do any good, but you should appreciate the effort.’ He turned to me, to say words that didn’t need to be said. I already knew what my fate must be. ‘Your debts must be paid,’ he said. ‘Our lips are wet with anticipation at the things we will do.’

‘Then do them,’ I said. There was nothing else I could say. I surrendered.

‘This is our triumph,’ the demon hissed, ‘and we will savour it. We have learned from the spirits. We will enjoy having a body, and we will make sure your name goes down in history as the greatest scourge your species has ever known.’ He laughed, as though this were a particularly amusing joke. It was the kind of high, cold laugh that laughed alone.

‘Stop talking and do it,’ I snapped. While Hackley hung her head, Eiron an Aais stood perplexed, uncertain whether to attack. I felt sorry not because I was destined to die, but for denying them the joy of our unanimous survival. I wished more than anything that I had not been forced to keep my pending death, and the dangers it posed to everyone, a secret.

‘Your name will be a curse for centuries,’ the demon continued. ‘No-one will remember your book, but everyone will remember that it is bound in human skin. You know runes of fire– we will boil the seas where your fish-men swim, and we will burn the longhouses where your Seafarers eat. All of you mages have such power. Finally, someone will unleash it.’

I felt a chill seize me, and knew that it was the beginning of the end. A shadow stepped into me, making my world dim, and I was powerless to fight back I tried to open my eyes, to see the light, but the darkness was overwhelming. Soon, I was a container for ambivalence, unable to prevent my own demise. I looked pleadingly to my friends, who returned my look with horror. Only Hackley truly understood, and blanched to match the melting snow. The look on her face should have been reserve for funerals; it should not have been something that the dying had to see. I realised, when I searched her face for some trace of live compassion, that I was on my own. Hackley kept her emotions in her memory now, where they would be safe. That, I knew, was wise. With the last ounce of my strength, I stuffed a handful of fungus from the ground into my mouth. Though I was not convinced that it would do any lasting good, at least it abated the pain of dying by possession.

Through dry lips, I heard my voice croak, but it was not under my control any longer. ‘Flesh, flesh and an anchor,’ it gloated. ‘This world is not prepared for what we are about to do to it!’

I prepared for one last bout of agony, but it seemed that my friends would not endure it. Hackley and Eiron stepped forward at the same time. Perhaps she had whispered the answer to him, or perhaps he had learned through warrior’s intuition that my body was an enemy. I didn’t live long enough to find out. I only saw the blasting rune scalding the air as it drove forward, and the axe soaring towards my helpless anatomy.

But, I was not so helpless anymore. Something about the demon’s control made me invulnerable to both attacks. Catching my reflection in a puddle, I saw that I was changing, growing pale and gaunt, to match the traits my possessor valued most. ‘Now,’ he mused. ‘Who shall I kill first?’

That was the last I heard or saw of that plane of reality. Suddenly, I was drifting in a world of white fog, and that fog was a thick cloud of spirits that circled around the place I had appeared. Of course, they knew me from my dreams, and envied the form the First Druid had called uniquely magical. The additions the demon had made only enhanced its appeal.

‘Look!’ cried one, peering down at my earthly body. ‘I want those horns!’

‘No! Mine!’ another shouted with glee.

Soon enough, a horde of other would-be possessors was rushing through temporary gate between planes that my transcendence had created. The demon, unprepared, howled with fury. It was only distracted for a second, but that was all the time my Apprentice needed. She had been practicing the spell in her head all day; the spell she had once uncovered in a book while trying to protect another Master. It was a spell to kill the soul, and its fire made short work of the demon in my form. Only then, when my possessor had disintegrated and my body lay limp and lifeless, did they call me dead.