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Back The Trickster Save as PDF
Chapters (74)
  1. The Trickster
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. Preface to the 20th anniversary edition
  6. Introduction
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. Keep Reading
  70. FURNACE
  71. Acknowledgements
  72. About the Author
  73. ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
  74. About the Publisher

And with his wings outstretched, Sam saw the trick.

The rock was trembling. The whole tunnel shaking and rumbling. McGee scooped the boy up and ran for the entrance.

The shaman faced the Trickster as his ancestors had and knew there was a way. Had they been short of that love? Had they been full of doubt when they faced this thing? That was why they had been sacrificed. They had been abandoned by those they loved, and he had not. Love was the saviour. Love made the man pure. Gentleness made him stronger than a fiend. Absence of guilt made him impenetrable.

Slowly he looked into that demon face and started to open the bubble of his soul. The Trickster hissed and shifted and Sam felt its unclean blackness swirl towards him in triumph. Entering him. Eating into him. It licked around the edges of his mind, savouring the humanity it was flowing into. And Sam felt giddy in his spirit state as the rush of dark increased.

It was talking now. To itself. Not to him. He, after all, was almost it. ‘Yes. Yes. The Trickster has tricked man again. I am Sitconski. I am Inktomni, I am Inktumni, I am Inktomi, I am who I wish to be.’

Sam waited, enduring the violation for a moment more.

‘They will see. They will see what becomes of them.’

Now!

The shaman drew all his energy and love and shifted in his soul, moving the dark powerful being he had called. He spoke with the last shreds of his power that were fading from him as the Trickster gained more and more of his substance.

‘We are no one now. You and I.’

It shuddered. There was hesitation in its motion.

‘I am Sitconski.’

‘No. You are no one. For I am no one. I leave, and I leave behind nothing.’

There was a sharp lance of rancour in the stream of corruption, and the dark swirled in fury.

Sam’s mind was clouding. He must retain the power of prayer. Must keep conscious in this unreal state of unconsciousness.

‘You die, vermin. I become someone. I become you.’

‘And when I die I leave you nothing. Except that which I have called. This is what I am. Will you become that? Will it welcome you? Allow you to command it? When I depart, it commands. It has beaten you to my soul, you nothing, you nobody. You cannot even possess that which you are invited into.’

There was a roar and a screaming, and the black fury that was the Trickster spiralled in its confusion. The darker thing that was in Sam moved in its own foul excitement, ready to take what the Trickster was hesitating to control.