by Jen McIntosh
Thunder roared in challenge as the Darklings surged forward, and Alvar attacked. He was lethal, moving with inhuman grace and speed, striking like the lightning that sparked over his skin. He became the storm, dancing through the horde like the winds howling overhead, leaving only death in his wake.
Beside him, Farran was only just managing to stay alive. Lucan had seen the Captain take on five men at once and walk away without a scratch. But these were not ordinary Darklings. A Graced Hunt, Alvar had said. A whole Hunt made from the magically gifted warriors from Renila’s stories. He spared a moment to pity them – those who had become the one thing they’d been created to destroy. But as he saw the destruction they dealt, the lives they claimed, pity gave way to horror.
He paused on the threshold. Couldn’t bear to leave them. Alvar seemed to sense his hesitation and snarled in frustration, dragging Farran from the mêlée and shoving the Captain towards the castle.
‘Get them out of here,’ he roared. ‘Renila and Suriya are inside somewhere. Find them and hide them.’ Farran dipped his head once in acknowledgement, pausing just long enough to grip Alvar’s shoulder in support before he turned and sprinted for the boys.
His broad hands herded them forward, pushing them inside, despite Lucan’s objections.
‘Do as you’re damn well told,’ he barked. Lucan flinched from the rebuke, but Erion gave his friend a warning look that told him to keep his mouth shut. Lucan heeded that advice, and together, the boys helped Farran to close and bar the great oak doors.
And as they slammed shut, Lucan heard Alvar’s parting words echo through the Captain’s mind. ‘Keep them safe, Farran. No matter the cost.’
Erion didn’t hesitate. ‘This way,’ he said, heading towards the kitchens. Farran raised a sceptical eyebrow but didn’t argue, signalling for Lucan to follow while he brought up the rear.
The castle was an eerie place devoid of its usual inhabitants. Footsteps which once would have been lost in the cacophony of bustling life now echoed ominously through the empty spaces. Hushed whispers breathed into ears seemed louder than words shouted across hallways, and every murmur of movement sent a shiver of fear down the spine.
But Erion moved forward without hesitation. Lucan smiled. There was a time when he might have drawn strength from Erion’s confidence, but now there was little need. He felt the pull towards his sister just as keenly as Erion was being drawn towards his mother.
Erion froze, gesturing for them to do likewise. Then he sighed with relief.
‘It’s alright,’ he whispered into the darkness. ‘It’s just us. You can come out now.’
‘Erion?’ a familiar voice breathed in wonder. And out of the shadows stepped Renila, with Suriya tucked into her side. Renila’s amber eyes filled with tears as she drank in the sight of her son, and she pressed her lips to his brow. ‘Thank the Gods!’
Then her gaze went to Farran, and there was no mistaking the look of relief on his face. He took two staggering steps and threw his arms around them both.
A warm, firm hand slipped into Lucan’s. He looked round to see Suriya appear at his side, her tear-stained face now fixed with a look of grim determination.
‘Are you alright?’
She nodded, leaning into him for comfort, their minds twining together once more. ‘You?’
‘I’ll live.’
Golden eyes fixed him with a look that suggested he was perhaps being a little optimistic, given their current situation, but she let it go. ‘What now?’
All eyes turned to Farran, but it was Erion who spoke first. ‘I know a place. Somewhere they can’t find us … or at least, somewhere we will be safe. Somewhere they can’t get to us.’
Lucan frowned. He knew this castle at least as well as Erion, if not better, and there was nowhere that would protect them forever.
‘Where?’ he asked, trying not to sound too sceptical. Erion’s gaze was distant, eyes swirling so fast Lucan barely had time to register the colours.
‘I don’t … know,’ he said, taking a faltering step towards the narrow corridor on his left. But there was no hesitation when he continued. ‘This way.’
Lucan opened his mouth to argue, but then came the sound he had been dreading – the pounding of magic on wood echoing through the keep. The Darklings were at the doors. Farran swore, looking around as if for another option. Renila only spared him a glance as she herded the twins behind her.
‘Stay with me and stay close,’ she murmured. Lucan nodded in understanding and gave Suriya’s hand a reassuring squeeze. And then, squaring her shoulders, Renila followed Erion into the shadows. Farran followed, just as the shriek of breaking timber shattered the night.
Erion had sped up, sprinting down corridors so fast that Lucan almost lost all sense of direction. He could only run, pushing Suriya in front of him. Renila reached back and grabbed her hand, dragging her onward. The pounding of Farran’s boots behind him, bringing up the rear, was the only reassurance he had. So long as Farran was behind, that meant the Darklings were not.
Lucan could hear them inside the keep now. Their vicious laughter echoed off the stone walls, making it near impossible to judge direction or distance or even numbers. Gaelan had said there were about a hundred of them and, while not all had survived the initial attack, there were clearly a significant number left.
Up ahead, Erion skidded to a halt in front of a large tapestry, one of a black-haired woman, armoured and cloaked in raven’s feathers with sword in hand, standing upon a field of fallen warriors. He barely spared it a glance as he threw it aside to reveal the door hidden behind it.
Farran checked himself, frowning in disapproval and opening his mouth to complain. Clearly this was the first he had learned of the hidden passages. Renila cut him off.
‘Not the time,’ she sighed, herding the twins down the passage. ‘I’ll make it up to you later.’
He shook his head in frustration even as a choked laugh escaped him. ‘If we live through this, you’d better.’
Then he stepped inside and helped Erion pull the door closed behind them.
Engulfed in sudden darkness, Lucan’s other senses seemed heightened. Fear was heavy on the air, the hunting Darklings all but drowned out by the harsh breathing of those within the narrow corridor. Heat radiated off Renila standing beside him, like it always did when she was angry. Suriya’s palm sweaty in his hand, her fingers trembling between his. But she squeezed in reassurance, leaning closer and lending him her strength. What little she had left.
A flame stuttered into life as Erion took a torch from its bracket. It must have lit itself, for there was no flint in his hand. Lucan stared at him, but his friend seemed unperturbed. No, not unperturbed. Oblivious. As if Erion were not with them, his mind so distant that it seemed to have left his body.
His eyes, now so dark they were almost black, focussed on something in the distance. Not down the corridor, Lucan realised, following his friend’s gaze, but somewhere beyond. Somewhere deep within the labyrinth of hidden passageways, something was calling him. He did not even wait to see they were following before he moved off, leading the way once more.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Suriya murmured.
Lucan shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’
But he did not hesitate to follow where Erion led.
This deep inside the castle, the hidden passageways were a maze. They’d explored them over the years, but only bothered to memorise the useful ones. Left at the junction ahead would lead them to the passage between the rooms he had shared with Suriya and their mother’s – Gaelan’s – chambers. But Erion turned right down a passage that he’d never noticed before.
The thunder of heavy footsteps shattered the silence. They froze, ears straining, hardly daring to breathe. Then they heard it. Someone – or something – was sniffing at the hidden door. The sound of it echoed down the narrow corridors, growing louder and louder. Another joined it. Then another. Like a pack of wolves seeking their prey …
A low, diabolical laugh rang through the passages. ‘Got you,’ a male voice chuckled. Then he howled, the others joining him, baying like hounds on a scent.
‘Run,’ Farran ordered. They didn’t need told twice. Erion charged ahead, leading them through the maze. Renila stayed right on his heels, dragging Suriya by the hand. Farran was behind, herding Lucan in front of him.
There was another junction up ahead. The right fork should lead back to the kitchens. Erion turned left. Towards the outer wall.
‘That’ll be a dead end,’ warned Lucan.
Erion glanced back over his shoulder, his black eyes glinting in the torchlight. ‘Trust me.’
Lucan nodded and kept going, only to skid to a stop a heartbeat later when they reached the end of the passage. Renila’s hand scrabbled at the wall, searching for a hidden entrance. But there was nothing there. She stepped back and shook her head. Farran swore, looking back the way they’d just come. The hooting and howling of Darklings echoed round and round. They were in the passages.
‘The kitchens should be that way,’ Lucan said, pointing. ‘We can get out through there, make for the stables.’
Suriya shook her head. ‘Renila and I tried that way earlier. It’s buried under all the rubble from where the tower came down. The door’s blocked.’
‘We’re trapped,’ hissed Farran, swearing again. Lucan and Suriya looked to Erion. He’d been so sure. But he was only frowning in confusion, studying the dead end in front of him. Then he took a hesitant step forward, hand outstretched.
And as his fingers brushed the wall, stone turned to wood, and a door appeared.
It was heavy, made from solid oak and carved with the crest of a raven in flight. The sigil had been defaced by deep, savage furrows gouged by what Lucan could only assume had been the blade of a knife.
There was also nothing resembling a door handle.
A wrought iron lock, yes, with a keyhole. But no key. Lucan stood in stunned silence for a moment before the jeering of the Darklings roused him once more to action. With a huffed sigh of relief, he pushed past Erion, who was staring at the door with a mixture of awe and horror, and shoved. It didn’t open.
‘It’s locked.’
The taunting shrieks of the Darklings drew closer.
‘Try to pick it,’ Renila ordered. Another time, Lucan might have tried to protest his ignorance of such a dubious skill, but this wasn’t the place. Suriya removed two pins from her hair and handed them to him. They’d done this too many times for her to need instructions. But as he knelt and slid the pins inside, he realised the problem.
‘There’s no mechanism inside. It’s just decorative.’
When his announcement drew nothing but silence, he glanced around … and saw what had drawn their attention.
A Darkling stood at the other end of the passage, blood-red eyes flickering in the torchlight, that maniacal grin broadening as two more stepped up to flank it.
Farran unsheathed his sword. ‘Try to force it open.’
Renila caught him by the wrist. ‘You can’t fight those things. They’ll kill you.’
Warm brown eyes flickered down, burning with such intensity that Lucan looked away. He wouldn’t intrude on something so private. But he couldn’t stop himself from hearing Farran’s murmur of goodbye.
‘Then at least I’ll die with my sword in my hand, defending the people I love.’
And with that he extricated himself from her grip and turned back to face the Darklings. Their eyes lit with feral delight, no doubt at the prospect of toying with their prey, but Farran didn’t baulk as he stepped back down the passage to meet them.
Halfway down the passage, he stopped and raised his sword.
It was three against one, the Darklings blessed with Graced speed and strength, and yet within such narrow confines, they couldn’t all rush him at once.
He held the passage for as long as he could. Lucan tried to make it count, throwing his weight into the door. Suriya joined him, but it wouldn’t budge. She rounded on Erion. His gaze was fixed on Farran, his onyx eyes wide with hopelessness and oblivious to their plight.
‘Erion,’ she snapped, shaking him from his trance. ‘Come on!’
He looked around, his eyes shining with unshed tears. ‘What can I do?’
‘The door appeared for you,’ she breathed. ‘Maybe it will open for you too.’
To say that Erion looked sceptical was perhaps an understatement, but he did as he was bid and put his shoulder to the door.
Over the top of his sister’s head, Lucan saw the moment Erion’s hand brushed the lock. Saw the light flare beneath his palm and heard the click as the lock snapped open. But he was still far from prepared when the door swung open smoothly – yelling in surprise as they went crashing into the room, tumbling through the open door together, torches flaring into life at their presence. Lucan scrabbled to his feet, searching for another exit. But there was nothing. Not even a window. He glanced back to Renila and shook his head.
She nodded, taking a deep breath, and looked back to Farran. His defence faltered. The Darklings had no need of steel, and though the death they offered him was quick, it was not clean. He made his last moments count.
Even when the largest Darkling knocked his sword from his grip, he kept fighting. He drew his dagger with his other hand and sliced across its throat in a single fluid motion. Even when the smallest one slipped through his guard and slashed deep into his side with claw-tipped fingers, he kept fighting. The dagger flickered in the torchlight, finding its heart. But it lodged there, and when it screamed, staggering backwards from the blow, he was left weaponless.
The last Darkling snarled as it closed the distance between them, parrying Farran’s fists with unnerving ease. Its hand snaked out and closed around his throat, a grim smile twisting its features as it choked the life from its prey. Erion pushed past his mother, but Renila grabbed his arm and held him fast.
Suriya’s voice whispered in Lucan’s mind. ‘Don’t look.’
But he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
The sound of Farran’s last breath was haunting, but the scream that ripped out of Renila as she watched the man she loved die right in front of her, helpless to save him, was agony. Heartbreaking enough that Lucan felt she’d physically struck him, and he staggered back from it. That was a pain he couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
But as he watched the life ebb from those warm, brown eyes, he knew that he could not let the Captain’s sacrifice be in vain. So he turned and ran, dragging Renila and Suriya inside. If they hadn’t been able to get the door open, he was willing to bet the Darkling would have the same problem.
‘Erion, come on!’ he called over his shoulder. Suriya seemed to catch on, scrabbling around the door, ready to close it once they were all inside.
But Erion didn’t move. He was standing, staring at Farran’s lifeless body.
The Darkling had turned its bloody gaze upon him, but as it looked closer, the smirk faded from its lips, and its gaze grew troubled.
‘What are you?’ it breathed.
Erion squared his shoulders.
Drew his sword.
Stepped forward.
‘Erion,’ Renila cried, reaching for her son. Lucan blocked her way, even as Suriya grabbed her about the waist. Unarmed, she would end up bleeding on the floor beside Farran. If only they could reach Erion and pull him back to safety.
The Darkling frowned, but it didn’t move. Erion took another step forward. Rage was rolling off him in waves, churning the air around him. Then another step. His grip on the ridiculously oversized sword steadied. Then another. He no longer looked silly, instead he looked dangerous. And another. Until he was within striking distance.
Still the Darkling held its ground. Then Erion raised his sword in invitation. Or was it challenge?
The Darkling pounced.
Renila was screaming for her son, fighting to get past Lucan, but he barely hea
rd her.
Time seemed to slow, and he was sure he was about to watch his best friend die before his eyes. But thunder cracked, and Erion was moving with the same lethal grace as Alvar, slipping through the Darkling’s defences and driving his blade up into its heart.
He snarled as the creature died on his sword, savouring its death with dark delight dancing in his black gaze.
And as the life faded from its eyes, he leaned in closer and hissed, ‘I guess you bleed after all.’
Relief made Suriya’s legs tremble as she watched the Darkling die, and at last, she released Renila. It had taken every ounce of her strength to hold the woman back. Strength she knew should have been beyond her, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. The Darkling might be dead, but there would be more coming. They had to find a way out.
She shivered, breath misting in front of her as she looked around. The air was thick with the smell of dust and decay. Cold and stale, with a hint of damp and the faint, musty aroma of old books.
Little wonder. Dust-coated shelves reached all the way to the vaulted ceiling, each one stuffed full of books. There was an armchair by the empty hearth, the table beside it buried beneath countless tomes. A tarnished mirror hung above the mantle, an equally dirty painting of a man adorning the walls opposite. He was tall and imposing, with blue-black hair beneath his crown, and he carried an evil-looking sword in his hand. He looked down at her with cruel, dark eyes and an imperious expression that made her skin crawl. Yet there was something familiar about his face. Something she could not quite place.
She turned away, glancing back over her shoulder. Renila lingered in the doorway, staring at her son in disbelief. Lucan’s expression was similarly stunned. Beyond them, in the hallway, Erion stood over his kill, chest heaving. She looked away. Back into the library.
Her gaze skirted over the loose leaves of parchment scattered on the floor around an enormous desk in the alcove, and at the open chest in the corner, half-buried beneath books and a shield bearing the crest of a raven in flight. It was empty save for a dozen tattered scrolls. Nothing of any use there either.