Darren Shan - Bec

“Actually, I don’t think you will,” Lord Loss purrs, then points an arm at Goll. Abruptly, unwillingly, with a startled roar, Goll turns away from the rest of us and runs.

For an awful second I think Lord Loss plans to run him over the edge of the cliff. But then I see he’s more cunning than that—he’s making Goll race to the mainland, where the dog demon is yapping with delight, ready to tear Goll to pieces on a patch of ground where there’s no magical protection.

“Goll!” I scream and try to stop him with magic. But I can’t find a way to unlock Lord Loss’s spell.

“Release me,” Lord Loss says. “Immediately. Or the human dies at the hands of the ever-faithful, ever-vicious Vein.”

“No,” Drust says.

“You must,” Lord Loss growls, “or I’ll send the others to their deaths too.”

“No,” Drust repeats.

“Very well,” the demon master sneers. “Vein! Destroy him!”

The dog demon barks and howls, leaping around, jaws snapping open and shut. Goll’s almost at the mainland. A few more seconds and…

Suddenly, Bran is in front of the old warrior, by the side of Vein, patting his knees, whistling as though calling to a tame dog and not some demon half-breed. Vein leaps at Bran. Lord Loss laughs. The rest of us gasp with horror.

Then everybody’s jaw drops as the dog demon licks Bran’s face, before rolling over on to her back and offering her stomach to be tickled.

“Vein!” Lord Loss bellows. “Stop that! Kill him!”

The demon ignores her master’s call and whines with pleasure as Bran scratches under her chin. He’s giggling, playing with her as he would with any normal dog, making cooing sounds and uttering the odd insensible word or two.

Lord Loss can’t believe it. Nobody can. But then Fiachna laughs out loud and soon all of us are laughing, pointing at the boy and the dog, and Goll standing beside the pair of them, having come to a stop at last. We double over, tears of mirth streaming down our faces. Even Drust is smiling.

Lord Loss doesn’t see the funny side of it. He glares at the dog demon, then the rest of us. When his eyes eventually settle on Drust, he snarls and says, “What manner of thing is that boy?”

“I’m not sure,” Drust chuckles. “I knew he’d been blessed with some special form of magic but I never guessed he was this powerful. It seems he can charm any creature he wishes. And maybe that’s only one of his lesser gifts. Who knows what else he might be capable of?” Drust’s smile tightens. “Maybe he can kill a demon master.”

Lord Loss quivers but I’m not sure if it’s with fear or outrage. “You have humiliated me,” he hisses.

“Aye,” Drust agrees cheerfully.

“You will pay for that.” Seven of Lord Loss’s arms come up and he points at each of us. “I place a geis upon you. A curse to destroy you all. Whether you succeed in your quest or not, none of you will know anything but misery for the rest of your pitifully short lives.”

“Your geis doesn’t frighten us,” Drust snorts. “Now begone—and I don’t want to see you again any time soon.”

He waves his right hand and Lord Loss peels away as though blown by a strong wind. He shoots off the Jutland, managing to grab his dog as he flies past, yanking her away from Bran by grabbing her snout. Vein gives a muffled howl. Bran’s hands stretch out after the dog and he waves goodbye. Soon the pair vanish from sight, separated from us by Drust’s spell and the darkness of the night.

On the Jutland we carry on laughing, delighted to have thwarted the demon master. But there’s an edge to our laughter. A demon’s geis is nothing to sneer at. As happy as we are, I’m certain that each of us is inwardly pondering Lord Loss’s curse and wondering what sort of a price we might ultimately be made to pay for our meagre victory.

Drust is still playing chess. The rest of us are gathered around the fire. Now that the danger has passed, my clansfolk discuss the conversation between Drust and Lord Loss and I feel eyes settle on me suspiciously. Finally Fiachna asks the question which is on all their tongues. “What did Drust mean about Lord Loss interfering with you?”

I sigh miserably. “My magic has grown faster than it should. I’ve leapt from being a poor apprentice to being almost as strong as Drust, with the ability to be a lot stronger—because of Lord Loss. He reached within me and gave me power. Thanks to him, I’m able to do things which nobody of my limited experience should be able to.”

“Why would he do that?” Goll asks gruffly.

“We don’t know,” I answer honestly. “We’d be fools to think he did it to help but we can’t see how my being so strong can be a drawback. Unless…” I gulp, then say what I’ve been thinking since Drust revealed the truth about my powers. “Unless he left a secret spell behind. Maybe, when I’m powerful enough, a force will explode inside me and destroy everything around me.”

“A demon in the fold,” Lorcan growls bitterly, with venom born out of the loss of his brother. “We can’t harm her here, but I say we take her back to the mainland and slit her throat before—”

“Peace,” Goll hushes him.

“But—”

“Peace!” Goll says again, harshly this time. Then he smiles at me. “I don’t believe that, Bec. I’ve known you since you were a baby. You wouldn’t hurt anyone, intentionally or otherwise. If the demon master thinks he can use you to harm us, he’s wrong.”

Tears spring to my eyes. I haven’t cried since I was a very young child—tears are for the weak—but the warmth of Goll’s words unleashes a spring within me and soon my cheeks are wet with warm, salty water.

“Goll’s right,” Fiachna says, putting a thumb to my cheeks and wiping some of the tears away. “We have nothing to fear from you, Bec.”

“Of course we don’t,” Connla agrees, stunning us all by giving me a quick hug. Then he looks pointedly at Lorcan.

The teenager pulls a face. “If that’s how you feel, I won’t argue. But I’ll be keeping an eye on her, especially when there’s a full moon, because there’s the threat of her turning into a wild beast too, in case you’d forgotten. And if I ever think she’s going to act against us…”

“…you’ll tell us and we’ll have a calm chat about it,” Connla finishes sternly, in the authoritative tone of a true king. “Understood?”

Lorcan bares his teeth, but then nods roughly and turns away to sulk. I don’t blame him for this unusual show of hatred. It’s hard when you lose one you love, even if you’re a warrior who isn’t supposed to let sorrow affect you.

Bran shuffles up beside me a few seconds later, stares at my damp cheeks, touches them with a finger, then tastes it. “Stony,” he declares mysteriously, then lays his head on my shoulder, closes his eyes, smiles and goes to sleep.

Some hours later, having finished another game of chess, Drust packs the pieces and board away, sets his bag down and rises. “Bec,” he summons me. I gently move Bran’s head and go see what the druid wants.

“It’s time,” Drust says, looking down at me solemnly.

“For what?” I frown.

“I’ve been waiting for the tide,” he answers cryptically. “The level is correct now. But it won’t remain that way for long. We must hurry.”

“I don’t understand. What…?” I stop. Drust is taking off his robes. Soon he’s naked. I’ve seen many naked men—a lot of warriors fight the old way, stripped bare—but Drust looks different in the flesh. His nudity is unsettling, as if I’m seeing an aspect of him I shouldn’t.

“Hey!” Goll grunts, getting up. “What are you—”

“Stay back,” Drust says, eyes flashing. “Bec and I must go for a while. But we’ll return shortly.”