by Drew Wagar
She saw others leaping from the windows, some in their sleeping robes, already ablaze as they leapt.
But more guards were waiting. Those who survived the fall met a clashing spinning fury of bright metal and a swift end. Zoella turned away in despair, tears stinging her eyes.
With a horrendous groaning sigh the roof collapsed, sealing the fate of any still alive inside. The flames burst out for a moment before they were extinguished by smoke and dust as the interior walls collapsed and fully half the hall fell in on itself.
Panic seized her. Zoella stumbled to her feet and ran full tilt into the sombre darkness of the forest, running as fast and far as she could, leaving the terrible fate of her companions and the occupants of the hall behind her, Raga chasing close behind.
Two dark cloaked riders galloped across the creek that Zoella had bathed in only a stretch before, their herg’s hooves splashing water carelessly around them. They came to a stop they caught sight of the smouldering ruins of the hall. Carefully they slowed and dismounted. The lead rider threw back a heavy cowl and surveyed the scene.
His face was bearded, with a full moustache and bristling eyebrows all flecked with grey amongst the brown. His eyes were blue and clear. They narrowed as they gazed upon the destruction of the hall. His expression fixed in a fierce but controlled anger.
The man’s companion joined him a moment later; a thinner fellow, carrying a sack of provisions and other paraphernalia. Both were wearing heavy travelling gear, sturdy leather breeches and tunic matched with tough herg-hide boots, tanned black. Both had dark grey cloaks wrapped around them.
‘Sire?’ the second man prompted.
‘As I feared, Rajan,’ the first man said in a low voice. ‘Too late.’
Prince Ioric of Viresia straightened and regarded the hall, taking in the collapsed walls and fire blackened windows. The smell of smoke, blood and scorched flesh was heavy all around him, but he was no stranger to such sensations. His father’s reign caused many such unfortunate ‘accidents’.
He pulled his cloak around him. It had served well as a disguise; it would not do for the commoners to know what he was doing, or the court, for that matter. Not yet.
Sombrely, both men walked forwards, leading their hergs through the churned up green of the grounds. The came across bodies, spread-eagled between the creek and the hall, cruelly trampled to death, arms and legs bent and twisted at unnatural angles. An older man, a gardener by the look of him, lay on his back near the bodies of two young boys, his apprentices perhaps.
They continued up the green until they neared the courtyards, now full of broken stonework and charred wood from the partial collapse of the roof. They stopped as they reached another body. It would have been lying face down on its front; however it was decapitated, with the head lying several hands distance away, a look of fear and terror permanently etched on its face.
The first man stepped across and bent down to examine the head. It seemed oddly small.
‘So passes Lord Tarq,’ Ioric mused. ‘He looks little different alive or dead. In fact, I think I prefer him this way.’
Rajan had been searching around Tarq’s body, it didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for.
‘Sire? The mandate.’
Ioric strode across to him. Rajan handed him a crumpled piece of parchment, a scroll. Ioric could immediately see it bore the royal seal.
Ioric took it and read the contents.
‘As I thought,’ he said after a moment, crumpling the scroll in his hand. ‘Another one of the guardian’s charges exposed. Tarq was required to hand her over to the guards to be taken to Viresia by order of the King.’
Rajan frowned. ‘Yet Tarq was a coward. Why didn’t he just turn the girl over?’
Ioric looked up grimly. ‘It would seem he was unable to for some reason.’
They tied the hergs to the courtyard walls, looking around in dismay. The place was full of bodies, mostly young women, some just children, cruelly put to death by the sword. Around the base of the hall’s remaining wing they could see yet more, now killed by crossbow bolts or scorched to death by fire. There were a few adults with them, scullery maids, servants and grooms. All had met a similar fate.
They ventured as far as they could inside the ruins. The stench of death was stronger here. Already groups of marsips could be seen skulking in the corners, irritated at the interruption to their unexpected feast. The fire had left little but the twisted black corpses of those caught inside as it had swept through the wooden interior.
Returning to the courtyard they took stock of the situation.
‘As thorough as might be expected,’ Rajan added. ‘They have her or they killed her. Either way, we’re too late.’
‘Murdering the innocent and suppressing the truth,’ Ioric said with a heavy sigh. ‘Hundreds die for no better reason than one man’s ignorance and fear. Such is our kingdom today, my friend.’
‘I fear there is nothing to find here, sire,’ Rajan replied carefully, ill at ease at criticising the King, even indirectly.
Ioric nodded, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. The Prince was just about to return disconsolately to his herg when a splashing sound caught their ears. Ioric looked up and across at Rajan. He nodded. Ioric put a finger to his lips and slowly drew his sword. Rajan did likewise beside him.
The noise had come from just around the corner of the remains of the sunright wing of the hall. Both men swiftly and quietly moved against the sunward wall and carefully edged up to the corner. Ioric motioned a short countdown with his fingers and then both leapt around, swords poised.
The sunright wall of the wing was covered in vines. Some were burnt and curled back, but those that remained reached almost to the top storey of the wing, close to a window. Ioric could see the shutters were gone, burnt and destroyed. At the base of the vines a narrow path led around the side of hall, bordered by a small dank looking pond.
On the far side of the pond a body lay half in and half out of the water, struggling feebly. Ioric and Rajan exchanged a look and then raced in opposite directions around the pond.
Ioric thought it was a young man for a moment, but a second look revealed the body of a girl, rather stocky and muscularly built, with short cropped hair. She was lying on her front having apparently pulled herself half out of the pond. Ioric could see a crossbow bolt protruding from her lower back. A quick look told him that she was not long for the world, the bolt had penetrated her stomach from behind. She was bleeding inside.
Rajan joined him, knelling beside the dying girl. Ioric signalled quickly.
‘Water. Give her some water.’
Ioric gently turned her on her side. Her eyes fluttered open and her body jolted in surprise.’
‘Be calm,’ Ioric said, holding a soft leather flask to her lips. ‘We are here to help. See, here is water. Drink.’
The girl managed a spluttering gasp before collapsing in Ioric’ arms.
‘What happened?’
‘Guards,’ the girl whispered. ‘The King. Looking …’
‘Who?’ Ioric demanded. ‘Who were they looking for?’
‘She wasn’t here,’ the girl said, her eyes rolling up in her head. ‘Tarq had sent her into the fields … they didn’t believe him … cut off his head …less than he deserved …’ The girl actually laughed as she remembered.
Ioric looked sharply up at Rajan.
‘She escaped the carnage …’ Rajan said.
Ioric looked back down at the dying girl in his arms. ‘Her name? What was her name?’
The girl was drifting in and out of consciousness, her body gently shivering in shock.
‘Scrawny little posh knot and that mangy carn …’ The girl laughed again, half choking, blood appeared at her lips. ‘The guards thought she was in the town … fools, she hates the town …’
‘Where is she?’ Ioric repeated. ‘Where did she go?’
The girl’s eyes widened, as if in sudden realisation. ‘What she said �
�� Lacaille darkens! It’s going black …’
Then her eyes froze, sightless. Her body went limp. Ioric gently laid her back on to the ground. Ioric and Rajan exchanged a meaningful glance.
‘That phrase again, always that phrase! Rajan, you heard it.’
‘Indeed, sire. Lacaille darkens …’ Rajan echoed in a hushed tone.
Ioric nodded. ‘As the records tell us. Yet it seems to be the touch of death for all who utter it.’
Ioric got to his feet, brushing himself down and surveying the fields around the beleaguered hall. He could see various herds of herg, but there was no sign of anyone. Hardly surprising; nobody would have stayed close by waiting to be found by armed guards after seeing what had happened.
‘Come,’ he said. ‘We must find her, before they do.’
‘Find her? A lone girl, lost out there? She could be anywhere.’
Ioric gestured to the hillside. ‘Beyond is the town of Serenia. This girl said our charge hated the town, she wouldn’t venture there anyway on account of the local guards. She’d assume they would turn her over to the King. No, she didn’t go that way.’
‘Then where?’
Ioric’s stern face twisted into a faint smile. ‘Imagine you’re a young woman, Rajan. Where would you go?’
‘I’d keep out of sight, away from the town and the hall, into the … oh joy.’
Ioric’s smile widened. He looked up at the forbidding wall of the forest that bordered Tarq’s fields to the shaderight.
‘Aye. The forest.’
‘You’re not suggesting that we …’
‘We must find her, Rajan, before my father’s men do. She may have the answers to this riddle. The reason this knowledge is suppressed. Why those who know it seem worthy of death. The reason why all those mouldering records warn so strongly about the sun going black … we must find out the truth.’
‘But the forest! You know what’s in there. A girl in there alone? She won’t last a spell.’
But Ioric was already striding purposely towards the waiting hergs. As he climbed astride and manoeuvred the animal around, he looked down at Rajan.
‘She’s not alone. Weren’t you paying attention? She took a carn with her. That gives her a fighting chance. Time enough for us to catch up if we hurry.’
‘What about the King’s men?’
‘If I know them they’ll have stopped in Serenia for chai and wenches assuming their task is complete, but it won’t be long before someone tips them off that they missed one of the children. Come.’
He dug his heels into the herg’s flank and spurred it forward, charging back across the grounds. Rajan wearily climbed astride his own herg and followed his master.
It had already been a long stretch. Zoella was exhausted after the terror and fear that had powered her flight faded into an aching weariness. She didn’t want to be close to the edge of the forest in case she was discovered. She had no ways of knowing if the royal guards would be looking for her.
Tarq pointed up at the hillside. So the King’s guards were looking for me. Why? Because of my guardian?
Zoella could find no answer to that question. Being a practical person, she turned her mind to more immediate priorities.
Where am I going to sleep?
She was already exhausted, still trembling from the shock of seeing her companions put to the torch. Walking through the forest was much harder than walking across the fields. She had to step over undergrowth and climb the occasional fallen shade to make progress. Sometimes her way was blocked and she had to retrace her steps. The forest seemed unnaturally dark and quiet. She strained her eyes and ears, alert for any sound or movement. She had expected the cries and hoots of creatures unknown, but apart from the occasional rustle in the undergrowth and squeak of something running away she heard nothing. She tried to walk as quietly as she could. After a while she got better at it, stepping carefully and balancing her weight as she walked.
An occasional beam of light managed to penetrate to the floor. The shafts of light were short-lived though. Zoella could see that the beams shifted and moved, appearing and disappearing over the course of a spell or so. The soil at the feet of some of the shades was churned and disturbed, as if it had been freshly turned.
So the shades do move, like the stories say …
It was almost imperceptible, but on close inspection she could see the movement. Many shades were adjusting their positions, trying to ensure that they had un-obscured access to the unending sunlight above. In places the shades had clustered closely together in bunches, with some being pushed over by the combined weight and presence of the others. Those so unfortunate quickly died, deprived of both the sun and the ability to capture rain water from far above in their wide-brimmed cups. Zoella sat down for a rest and pondered it for a moment.
A desperate battle for sunlight, going on forever …
It gave her a problem she hadn’t anticipated. She’d intended to sleep in the branches of the shades, hoping that being above ground would provide some defence against unknown creatures in the forest. Knowing that the shades were moving gave her second thoughts.
What if one is pushed over whilst I’m asleep?
On reflection it seemed a small risk, but Zoella spent a little time seeking out a cluster of shades that seemed to be static. There was no guarantee that they wouldn’t start moving, but in the denser clumps there was less likelihood that they would move enough to dislodge her.
Shades were useful for other things too. Zoella pulled out a knife and made a spiralling diagonal cut on the bark of one of them. The cut instantly filled with liquid which decanted downwards. She leant against the trunk, placing her open mouth at the bottom of it, allowing the liquid to trickle into her mouth. Shadewater had a bitter taste, but it was guaranteed to be fresh and unspoilt. There was even a little sustenance to be found. It didn’t satisfy like a meal would, but it was better than nothing. After she’d had her fill she cut the shade a little lower down so Raga could lap the shadewater for himself. He looked up at her after a spell, rather reproachfully.
‘I’d prefer a roast hind of herg and a cup of chai myself,’ Zoella said with a nod. ‘Too tired to hunt now though.’
Raga gave a sigh and then watched as Zoella clambered into the lower branches of the shade. She found a point where two major branches had grown outwards close to each other. It made for a perfect bower. She settled into it, wrapping her arms around her head in the customary manner to block out the unending light. She was asleep in moments.
Raga paced around the shade for a spell and then settled down, head on his massive paws, waiting for the young woman’s strange need for sleep to pass.
Zoella was roused by her stomach grumbling loudly. She hadn’t eaten for more than a stretch now and the pangs gnawed at her. She had no provisions with her, it wasn’t something she normally had to consider. While food was never exactly plentiful, it was regularly available at the various meals in the hall.
Tarq and the others all dead. Why? Because of me?
There was little regret in her mind. She had no feelings of affection for Tarq or any of the other children of the hall, no friends to mourn. She even felt guilt over fantasising Tarq’s and Shalla’s demise in some unpleasant manner in the past.
Maybe that’s just the way of it, evil pays evil …
She wondered how far she’d come. It was difficult to gauge. Not far enough though. She was still within two stretch’s walk of the hall. She couldn’t afford to stay here long. Those guards might be tracking her.
She looked up. The forest was unchanged, but it seemed brighter than before, perhaps her eyes had got used to the gloom. She’d been untroubled by dreams this time, perhaps it was the fresh air rather than the stuffy cramped room where she was usually holed up for the sleeping.
Raga got to his feet too, shaking himself quickly and flapping his fans to shake out the crumples after his own rest. Carns never really slept; none of the animals did. Some of them took o
n a certain doziness at times, but that was it. Zoella had no idea why folks needed the sleeping, it seemed a huge waste of time. Some had tried to go without it as a test of their endurance, most lost their own shadows for a spell as a result. It seemed people needed time to rest properly.
Zoella often wished she had fans too, it seemed a far better way of cooling yourself down than sweating and getting sticky and smelly, especially out here where you couldn’t wash yourself. All the creatures save folk had fans of some type or another.
I wonder why that is? Just us and not the beasts.
The forest was as quiet and still as before. Looking down she could see that she had chosen well, the shade hadn’t moved. She climbed down and looked about her, getting her bearings from the stretch before.
Raga whimpered piteously from beside her.
‘I know, me too.’
Food was topmost on her list of priorities now, so with Raga in tow, she set off in the same direction she’d been travelling before. The twigs and deadwood under her feet crackled noisily. She tried to walk more carefully again. Making such noise would scare away the marsips.
The forest floor was gently sloping, heading downhill. As she made her way between the tall shades Zoella began working up a list of priorities in her head. First was food. That was going to be a little difficult here in the forest. Zoella had caught marsips easily enough in the fields with some simple snares, but they would be less easy to bait here in the forest. What she really needed was a bow.
She stopped and looked around her. It took her only moments to find a length of shadewood that would serve. Shadewood was light and strong, ideally suited to the task and many fine bows had been made of it. Zoella’s would be crude by comparison and not very powerful, with a range of fifty hands or less. She would still have to ambush any prey she wanted.
Stringing the bow would be more of a challenge. There was nothing immediately available she could use. The best material was the dried and cured guts of a marsip, but she didn’t have one yet. To catch a marsip she needed a bow.