By K. V. Johansen
Some time past, within the days of the 1st kings within the north, there have been seven devils... And some time past, within the days of the 1st kings within the north, the seven devils, who had deceived and possessed seven of the best wizards of the area, have been defeated and sure with assistance from the previous nice Gods... and maybe a few of the devils are unfastened on this planet, and maybe a few are operating to unfastened themselves still…In a land the place gods stroll at the hills and goddesses upward thrust from river, lake, and spring, the caravan-guard Holla-Sayan, escaping the bloody conquest of a lakeside city, stops to assist an deserted baby and a loss of life puppy. the woman, even though, is the incarnation of Attalissa, goddess of Lissavakail, and the puppy a shape-changing mother or father spirit whose origins were forgotten. Possessed and approximately pushed mad by way of the Blackdog, Holla-Sayan flees to the wasteland highway, taking the powerless avatar with him. Necromancy, treachery, massacres, rebellions, and gods lifeless or misplaced or mad, stick to challenging at the their heels. however it is Attalissa herself who could be the Blackdog’s—and Holla-Sayan’s—doom.
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Additional info for Blackdog
Shadows that ducked and leapt and rocked across the light. “There's someone coming there, beyond, Spear Lady. Look. ” Something. He came in the darkness, riding, flanked close by other riders, preceded by more torches. Otokas…snarled. Some of the women gave him wary looks. ” “The warlord's a wizard,” he said hoarsely. Wizards, even the least, carried the scent of their magic with them: earthy, cool, damp, like water on stone, spiced with the tang of fire and frost. Wizards’ magic was neither good nor bad; it simply was, though it raised the dog's hackles.
A few could hold off a horde in the passages around the Old Chapel. But a few could die there, trapped and starving. There was a second, secret way out, though none but he and the goddess could take it. Kayugh met them again on the way. She had changed to trousers and armour, had her helmet under her arm and a dozen armed sisters behind her, two dormitories, as they called the six-woman squads which slept and trained together. ” he asked. “They're cutting the beams away at the nearest posts, and taking up the planking,” she reported, falling in beside him.
A year ago she would not have. She grew, slowly, into godhead. Prayer is for them, dog, not for you and me, she told him, in the silent speech, mind to mind, that they shared. She had seen eight summers, this incarnation of Attalissa. When Otokas first took on the burden of the Blackdog, Attalissa had been an elderly woman, older than his grandmother, older than the grandfather who had served her as Blackdog before him. When Attalissa died herself Otokas had wept as though she were his grandmother.