on loose slabs and boards, ignoring the now-familiar smell of death worming up from the pileâs depths. At that moment he gave up any hope of finding his apartment still standing â or perhaps he understood how pointless the quest was in the first place. Instead he headed up a hilly side-street not even vaguely resembling the road it had been in his memories.The homes to either side were destroyed; the corner street sign was unbelievably one of the few things undamaged. Pitt Street. The pizza placeâs green and red sign poked out beneath wreckage. (A girl wearing glasses had asked him out, here on this spot. His mouth full of pizza, heâd stammered in his amazement by way of reply, which she took as rejection and fled, her face pointed down with embarrassment. Heâd never seen her again.)
A gust of wind came to break the silence with its howl, the smell of smoke on its breath. From here he saw the cityâs silhouetted skyline. The buildingsâ lights were all out.
Something scuttled in the rubbish, too big to be a rat. It was the dog from before, hobbling along now with a strange limp. But then he saw it
wasnât
the dog. Its head and forelegs moved on their own, being dragged along as if blown by bursts of wind. Eric had taken a few steps towards it but now he recoiled, the gun in his hand again. Something he could not see dragged the dogâs body through a gap in the rubble.
He grew aware, as the windâs howl died away, that there were now many little sounds all through the ruin about him. Little taps, scrapes, creaks. His hair stood on end, despite how silly it seemed to be afraid â how could any unseen thing here be worse than the huge beast Shâ? The Tormentorâs voice echoed to him as if to contradict:
You will find ⦠what kills dragons â¦
He took what he meant to be one last sweeping look around at the place which had once been home, where life had been so simple and safe. It was then a shape moved through the city between the buildings. He rubbed his eyes, thinking because of its size alone that surely his eyes had been deceived: it was taller than some of the buildings it stalked between, and lit byits own light. Its shape defied his belief further yet, for it was like nothing heâd seen, stranger even than seeing Nightmare in the sky. Its three-pointed head was made of teardrop-shaped parts. Inside each, glassy reflective points â eyes, surely â quivered like jelly. Two arms, if arms they were, held aloft enormous orbs, one pitch black, the other white and glowing brighter than the moon overhead, the beams pouring out from between the buildings like searchlights. One shone through to where he stood. There was something insect-like about the huge thing, its arms and legs thin as vines in proportion to the thickness of its head. It was a god, surely ⦠though a god no one in Levaal had ever mentioned to Eric.
It was in view only for a few seconds between two buildings, just long enough to assure him heâd actually seen it. Distantly he heard things being crushed and metal squealing as its feet pressed down.
Something moved in the piles of brick, concrete, wood and aluminium sheets he stood upon. Little piles of debris were disturbed and fell pattering down the heapâs sides. As though many things had come awake, all about him now was the rattling shuffle of moving things. Small shapes began to creep out from between the disturbed rubble. They were hidden enough and small enough that he saw no more than moving shadows.
He jumped down and ran back the way heâd come. There at the top of the rise the Tormentor had not moved, though now it had picked up one of the blasted-off pieces of its face. It balanced the piece of itself on one hand, trying with little success to place it back on its face, since its blade-fingers did not bend.
Eric hesitated and then approached it again. âWhat was that thing I saw?â he said,
A gust of wind came to break the silence with its howl, the smell of smoke on its breath. From here he saw the cityâs silhouetted skyline. The buildingsâ lights were all out.
Something scuttled in the rubbish, too big to be a rat. It was the dog from before, hobbling along now with a strange limp. But then he saw it
wasnât
the dog. Its head and forelegs moved on their own, being dragged along as if blown by bursts of wind. Eric had taken a few steps towards it but now he recoiled, the gun in his hand again. Something he could not see dragged the dogâs body through a gap in the rubble.
He grew aware, as the windâs howl died away, that there were now many little sounds all through the ruin about him. Little taps, scrapes, creaks. His hair stood on end, despite how silly it seemed to be afraid â how could any unseen thing here be worse than the huge beast Shâ? The Tormentorâs voice echoed to him as if to contradict:
You will find ⦠what kills dragons â¦
He took what he meant to be one last sweeping look around at the place which had once been home, where life had been so simple and safe. It was then a shape moved through the city between the buildings. He rubbed his eyes, thinking because of its size alone that surely his eyes had been deceived: it was taller than some of the buildings it stalked between, and lit byits own light. Its shape defied his belief further yet, for it was like nothing heâd seen, stranger even than seeing Nightmare in the sky. Its three-pointed head was made of teardrop-shaped parts. Inside each, glassy reflective points â eyes, surely â quivered like jelly. Two arms, if arms they were, held aloft enormous orbs, one pitch black, the other white and glowing brighter than the moon overhead, the beams pouring out from between the buildings like searchlights. One shone through to where he stood. There was something insect-like about the huge thing, its arms and legs thin as vines in proportion to the thickness of its head. It was a god, surely ⦠though a god no one in Levaal had ever mentioned to Eric.
It was in view only for a few seconds between two buildings, just long enough to assure him heâd actually seen it. Distantly he heard things being crushed and metal squealing as its feet pressed down.
Something moved in the piles of brick, concrete, wood and aluminium sheets he stood upon. Little piles of debris were disturbed and fell pattering down the heapâs sides. As though many things had come awake, all about him now was the rattling shuffle of moving things. Small shapes began to creep out from between the disturbed rubble. They were hidden enough and small enough that he saw no more than moving shadows.
He jumped down and ran back the way heâd come. There at the top of the rise the Tormentor had not moved, though now it had picked up one of the blasted-off pieces of its face. It balanced the piece of itself on one hand, trying with little success to place it back on its face, since its blade-fingers did not bend.
Eric hesitated and then approached it again. âWhat was that thing I saw?â he said,
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