Dagger is a street kid, growing up in a city ruled by a brutal totalitarianism. He came into the world through a blasphemous ritual to resurrect his father… too bad the father in question is a bloodthirsty god whose soul was banished at the dawn of time. The boy is hidden in a guild of rogues, where an albino girl is the only person in the world who does not consider him a monster because of his red eyes. One night, the Gorgors—servants of the exiled god and incarnation of the deepest nightmares—set fire to the entire city to flush him out, and Dagger realizes that there is no refuge for him. Soon, he will realize that no one can fight against himself.
Note from the author:
I wrote a dark fantasy whose purpose was to break with tradition, the narrative addressing more existential issues rather than the old and overused formula of evil against good. In Dagger, the struggle between good and evil is not clear, nor easily identifiable. It is a tormented process, internal to the protagonist, with an outcome that is difficult to predict. I do not sell pre-cooked messages to the reader. I decided to create a story with multiple interpretations.
I'm one of the most important fantasy author in Italy thanks to this book, and I'm selling well in United States and UK too.
Dagger put a hand to his waist to make sure he still had the one object from which he would never be separated. Crouching in a dark alley, his bare ankles deep in the gutter that ran parallel to the wall, he leaned over to look at the street. The rickety sign of the Gypsy rocked back and forth in the rain, making fun of him with its cold, rusty chuckle. The light inside the tavern was still on, but no one had come through the door for at least an hour.
Curse you, Ktisis! he swore to himself, flattening against the wall. You filthy dog.
His toes tingled as if pierced by a thousand needles. The beginning of freezing, he thought. He had seen many Spiders lose their fingers to frostbite and be degraded to beggars, forced to drag their pathetic stumps around to get sympathy. He didn’t want to end up like that. He pulled one foot out of the icy water and then the other one. He tried to move his toes, but could no longer feel them. He had to hurry to accomplish his job or else return to the guild with empty hands. And with all the consequences the latter would involve.
He leaned back to check out every movement of the shadows around him. When he turned to the right, his heart missed a beat. A shadowy figure was coming toward him in the rain. Dagger wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his knife before he realized he was looking at a city guard. The desire to use his blade evaporated. There were accords to respect, and accords were important, as old Mama always said.
The guard stopped not far from him, apparently with no intention of sneaking into one of the back streets. It seemed he just wanted to finish his shift and get back to any place with a roof, or at least a floor.
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Giovani Fatobeni
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