The Shadow Within
Praise for
The Light of Eidon,
the first book of
L
EGENDS OF THE
G
UARDIAN
-K
ING
Karen Hancock builds a realistic world of nobles and barbarians, Romanesque arena games and a supernatural battle between good and evil. With Hancock’s latest, inspiration fantasy continues to come into its own.
—
Romantic Times
TOP PICK (4½ stars)
The Light of Eidon
is a worthy addition to my fantasy collection in every way. . . . By making religious pursuit one of the driving elements of the main character’s life, she has made it possible to introduce serious discussion of religion within a perfectly logical progression of the story. I was kept as off-kilter as Abramm for much of the story, wondering what really was true and what was not. . . . Christian fantasy is back. I look forward to the next volume of L
EGENDS OF THE
G
UARDIAN
-K
ING
with great expectations. Highly recommended.
—Tim Frankovich,
www.christianfictionreview.com
In the tradition of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, Karen Hancock has created an exciting allegorical fantasy. . . . Hancock’s writing, often eerie and suspenseful, is rich in sights, smells and sounds. . . . The allegories for atonement and salvation are fresh and insightful. . . .
The Light of Eidon
is so well done it should attract new readers to the genre.
—
Christian Retailing
Spotlight Review
The Light of Eidon
has the heart of J.R.R. Tolkien, the flare of Terry Brooks, the adventure of Tom Clancy, and the sense of destiny of the Star Wars saga. . . .
The Light of Eidon
speaks to anyone who has faced a seemingly hopeless situation, where God feels the universe away, and those who do evil seem to have all the control. Hancock has a fresh approach to the age-old question: “Where is God when evil prevails?”
—Randi Durham,
Teknofischzone
(
teknofisch.com
)
Books by Karen Hancock
Arena
L
EGENDS OF THE
G
UARDIAN
-K
ING
The Light of Eidon
The Shadow Within
The Shadow Within
Copyright © 2004
Karen Hancock
Cover illustration by Bill Graff
Cover design by Lookout Design Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owners.
Published by Bethany House Publishers 11400
Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Printed in the United States of America
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hancock, Karen.
The shadow within / by Karen Hancock.
p. cm. —(Legends of the guardian-king)
ISBN 0-7642-2795-5 (pbk.)
1. Kings and rulers—Fiction. 2. Sibling rivalry—Fiction. 3. Brothers—Fiction.
I. Title II. Series: Hancock, Karen. Legends of the guardian-king.
PS3608.A698S53 2004
813'.6—dc22
2004002024
KAREN HANCOCK graduated in 1975 from the University of Arizona with bachelor’s degrees in biology and wildlife biology. Along with writing, she is a semi-professional watercolorist and has exhibited her work in a number of national juried shows. She and her family reside in Arizona.
For discussion and further information, Karen invites you to visit herWeb site at
www.kmhancock.com
.
Cursed is the man who looks to man for strength,
who relies upon his own hand.
For the Shadow lives in all; not one has escaped.
And in it, every man’s hand is turned against himself,
even against his own life.
—From the
Second Word of Revelation
Scroll of Saint Elspeth
Contents
His senses keyed as tightly as if he’d just stepped back into an Esurhite arena, Abramm Kalladorne stood on
Wanderer
’s quarterdeck with his two liegemen, nervously scanning the leaden waters of Kalladorne Bay. As the white cliffs guarding the bay’s mouth slid silently astern, he wondered if the other men’s stomachs had just done the same little twist his own had. Probably.
It was one thing to boast of slaying sea monsters and sharing fabulous rewards in the warm, smoky haven of a Qarkeshan tavern, quite another to sail alone past a gaggle of crudely made warning buoys into the quiet, empty waters of what had once been the busiest harbor in Kiriath. Off the port gunwale, a broken mast listed in the spray-plumed rocks at the base of the western headland. With shredded canvas still fluttering from its yardarm, it stood in silent memorial to all the vessels lost to the monster since spring— six of them fully rigged merchantmen weighing over five hundred tons. Large, strong, stable ships.
Back in Qarkeshan’s own busy international harbor,
Wanderer
had seemed large and strong herself. Crafted of oak and iron, she floated at just over four hundred ton, with three stout masts and a complement of square-rigged sails now bellying handsomely before the breeze. Plenty strong and safe she’d looked in Qarkeshan.
Suddenly she had grown small and frail and pitifully inadequate. Suddenly Abramm could not imagine how he had thought her anything but, how he had ever let himself get talked into this harebrained scheme. To think that he and his companions could sail into this bay, brazen as gulls, knowing nothing about their adversary, and strike it dead when all who’d come before them had failed, was not only arrogant but incredibly stupid. And even if he and his companions did not mean to use conventional weapons, it was still stupid. Especially considering that the weapon they
did
mean to use could get them all lynched for heresy.
Tendrils of hair, teased free of the warrior’s knot on his neck, lashed annoyingly about his face as he glanced down at
Wanderer
’s waist and foredeck, where every man had turned out, ready for action. Crewmen lined the gunwales, balanced on the bowsprit, and clung to the rigging. Weathered faces with keen eyes searched the gray swells for the telltale ripple, the rocklike hump briefly breaking the surface, the quick breaching grope of a fleshy tentacle, as fat around as one of
Wanderer
’s masts. . . .
They would use the four boats stowed between the two forward masts to engage the kraggin once it was spotted—two eight-man whale hunters and two twenty-man longboats. They also had harpoon guns, axes and spears aplenty, two extra masts, and a crew of one hundred fifty crazies—experienced, die-hard adventurers who relished the challenge of facing a creature no one else could slay. And of divvying up the not insubstantial reward money when it was over.
Assuming anyone remained alive to divvy . . .
This is insane,
Abramm thought.
Dorsaddi bravado has pushed me into this,
and nothing more. It’s far too late in the day. At the least we should heel out and
go around to Stillwater Cove for the night. Get our bearings. Learn something
about this monster . . . where it’s been seen, where it hasn’t, how often it feeds,
what its habits are. . . .
But just as he was about to give the order to retreat, his liegeman spoke at his side. “It’s shadowspawn, all right. Can you feel that aura? About as strong a warding as any I’ve ever encountered. Griiswurmlike, but not griiswurm.” Abramm glanced at him, chagrined to realize that was exactly what it was. The all-too-familiar doubts and second thoughts might be his own, but the rising intensity of his anxiety and resistance to proceeding came from outside himself, part of the defensive aura generated by the monster they sought. Abramm’s red-bearded, freckle-faced liegeman, oath-made as of last night, raised a brow in unspoken amusement. “Don’t feel bad, my lord. I was about to suggest we turn back myself.”