by Joshua Khan
Lily threw her cloak across her like a barrier, and all the specters vanished into it.
Only their fading, echoing screams lingered.
The Mantle of Sorrows shivered. It undulated around her, dozens of yards long and moving of its own accord. Then it settled. It shrank back to its normal size, and was still.
Lily collapsed to her knees.
What…what just happened?
She’d done it—used her magic—but it had taken all her strength. She trembled, and all she could do was curl up and retch. The Mantle of Sorrows had the heaviness of iron and she could barely move under its crushing weight.
“No, that’s not possible….” said Pan. He stared around him, bewildered. Then a deep, monstrous growl rolled out of his mouth. “Awake, awake, you sleeping dead! I command you!”
The earth began to crack. Inside the tombs, ancient bodies stirred to life. Bony fists beat at their doors.
Pan wore the Mask of Astaroth, the lord of the undead, and here they were, fighting in a huge graveyard. How many people were buried here? Thousands? Tens of thousands?
In a few seconds, Pan would have resurrected his army of corpses and then it would be over. For her, for everyone.
“The mask…” Lily muttered. “You’re nothing without it.”
Pan stood over her. “Yes, I admit it. But who’s going to take it from me?”
Lily grinned, despite the pain. “That’ll be him.”
There was the creak of wood from behind Pan. He spun around to see the figure Lily had just spotted.
Thorn stood facing them, bow drawn. He looked along the shaft of his arrow. “Yeah, that’ll be me.”
His thumb freed the bowstring. It thrummed.
Pan threw up his arm to protect his face, but a second too late.
Steel arrowhead met stone mask, and the stone shattered.
“You came back to save me,” said Lily, exhausted but never so relieved. Or happy.
Thorn was with her again.
He leaned on his bow. “It didn’t look like you needed it, but I thought I’d help.”
“How’d you get back? I thought you’d be halfway to Stour by now.”
Thorn’s face fell. “Hades brung me.”
Lily looked at the bat, lying motionless halfway down the slope. “Oh no, Thorn…”
Hundreds of lesser bats swirled around Hades, and Lily and Thorn had to beat them off to reach him.
Blood soaked his body. Sticky strands hung from his mouth, and his eyes were barely open. His breath didn’t have enough strength to stir a blade of grass.
Lily felt his life fading. It was a small, weak match light surrounded by the encroaching darkness of death.
The magic still held her in its feverish grasp. She could wink that light out and replace it with a colder, eternal glow. She had the power to turn Hades into something not alive but perhaps more powerful….
A true king of the underworld.
Thorn took her wrist. “No, Lily. Don’t do it.”
“Why not? I could bring him back from the dead.”
“But he wouldn’t be Hades anymore. Not really.”
Horsemen galloped out of Castle Gloom, both her Black Guard and Solar’s paladins.
Sure, now they come.
She put her hand against the beast’s chest. She shouldn’t be so quick to use magic. While there was life, there was a chance. “We’ll save him, Thorn,” she said. “I promise.”
Thorn nodded and stroked the bat’s bloody fur.
It was Baron Sable who reached them first. He jumped off his horse, sword drawn, with his men behind him.
He stared in horror at the ruins.
Tombs were broken open. Gravestones lay cracked on the blackened grass. Ribbons of smoke twisted around them, and the earth hissed. Bodies had half-crawled from their graves and now lay slumped in their rotted funereal garb.
“By the Six…” he muttered.
Pan lay unconscious on the ground. Gabriel walked up to them unsteadily, looking around him as if he’d awakened from a nightmare. Which wasn’t far from the truth.
“Baron,” Lily ordered, “have one of your men summon the surgeon and the apothecary right now.”
“Are you injured, m’lady?”
“No, Hades is. I want him saved, Baron.”
Baron Sable snapped his fingers, and one of his men turned around and galloped back to the castle. Sable took Lily’s arm, supporting her. “What happened?”
“My uncle killed Lord Shadow and the rest of my family. He tried to kill me, here.”
Sable shook his head. “Your uncle? How’s that possible? He has no magic….”
“The evidence is before you.”
Duke Solar looked down at a grave body and kicked it aside.
Lily glowered. “That’s my great-granduncle Soriel, Duke. Please pay him some respect.”
“Necromancy. That much is obvious,” said the duke, his mouth twisted in disgust. “How was the earl defeated?”
Lily put her hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Your son did it.”
“I did?”
“Yes, you did. You were incredibly brave.”
Gabriel stared at her, jaw hanging. She could practically hear the cogs in his brain grinding.
“Isn’t that right, Thorn?” asked Lily. “Gabriel used his magic to destroy the specters and beat my uncle.”
“Uh, yeah,” said Thorn sourly. “He’s a real hero. He certainly didn’t run around the graveyard screaming and sobbing and wetting his pants.”
“My champion.” Lily kissed Gabriel’s cheek. And whispered, “If you tell the truth…”
Gabriel nodded vigorously. He straightened his tunic. “I could see Lady Shadow was in danger, and I offered her my help. As any gentleman would do. Really, the spell was most simple to one of my blood and training.”
Duke Solar looked down at his son. “Really?” There was something in his eyes that Lily hadn’t seen before. Pride?
Gabriel bowed. “Really, Father.”
Sable pointed at Pan. “Chain him and drag him down to the cells.”
Orders were given and the crowd began to disperse, still not clear about exactly what had happened.
Thorn joined Lily near the horses. “Why’d you let Gabriel take the credit? Sounds real stupid.”
“If they knew I was using magic, they’d all seek to destroy me, Thorn. Now’s not the time. And I can trust Gabriel to keep his mouth shut. Did you see the way the duke looked at him?”
“Yeah. I almost vomited.”
“Gabriel’s a hero, but he owes it all to us.” Lily jumped up into her saddle. “That’s a debt I might call on one day.”
Thorn looked at her with caution. “You’re a strange and scary girl, Lily Shadow.”
Lily smirked. “That’s a compliment where I come from.”
“I bet it is.” He handed over pieces of obsidian. “You’d better take these. If you want my opinion, you should chuck them down the deepest pit you can find.”
Lily had a better idea. She tucked the broken mask into the folds of the Mantle of Sorrows, and the black garb closed around it.
The next few days were a whirlwind of activity and wild stories in Castle Gloom.
Pan was the assassin. He’d learned magic secretly so no one would suspect anything. Gabriel had saved Lady Shadow and Gehenna. There were already songs being sung about him.
The Solars had gone home. They hadn’t even waited till sunrise before riding off. That left Thorn and the other stable boys with plenty of idle time. Thorn spent it at Murk Hall.
Hades was perched high on a broken column. He unfurled his wings and glided down, the air hardly stirring, and settled beside Thorn.
“Let’s have a look at you.”
Thorn pulled out the healing salve the apothecary had given him. The stinky goo would have cost him a year’s wages, but suddenly his money wasn’t good enough. He was getting everything for free.
Sure, the stories would all be
about Gabriel—the nobles always got the glory—but there were enough folks in Castle Gloom who knew who’d really saved Lady Shadow. It seemed Lily had mentioned something to Mary. Mary had then told the cook. And the cook had told everyone.
Hades snarled as Thorn opened the pot. Its contents stank.
“Stop being such a big coward and come over here.”
Hades widened his mouth to make sure Thorn got a good view of his lethal fangs.
“So you want to play rough? All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Thorn grabbed the monster’s ear and pulled. Hard.
Hades yelped, then butted Thorn playfully.
Thorn peeled off the bandage for a look at the wound.
Black stubble was growing back where the fur had been shaved off. The stitches looked good, and the redness around the puckered flesh was now a healthy pink. Thorn started rubbing the salve over it, holding his breath as much as he could.
“Yeah, it really is stomach-churningly foul, isn’t it?”
Lily arrived with Custard scampering at her heels.
The ghost puppy was back for good and up to his usual mischief. Even more so now that walls and doors didn’t stop him. Not that it mattered; everyone was spoiling him. They loved having a ghost back haunting Castle Gloom.
I’ll never get used to this place.
“How are you, Hades?” she asked.
Hades opened up his vast, sail-sized wings.
Thorn sighed. “Stop showing off.” He added a second layer of goo. “Surprised to see you here.”
“I needed to get away. Baron Sable’s taking care of things.”
“Things?”
“Returning the engagement gifts, for starters.”
“So it’s true? The wedding’s off?” He glanced over. “I can see you’re real upset.”
Lily sniffed loudly. “Utterly heartbroken.”
“I still don’t get it. I thought the duke needed this marriage.”
“That was before he found out the man who’d organized it all had tried to start a war between House Solar and House Shadow. That was before K’leef escaped. Now that the sultan has his son back, the first thing he’s going to do is get revenge for all the raids the duke has made into his lands. Duke Solar’s going to be very busy next year. And he’ll need Gabriel beside him.”
“Since Gabriel’s proved to be a powerful sorcerer, right?”
Lily smiled. “I wonder if Gabriel realizes what he’s in for.”
“Why doesn’t he tell his father the truth?”
“My guess is that Gabriel has repeated the story about how he defeated Pan so often that he truly believes he did do it.”
“You can put a saddle on a cow, but that still don’t make him no horse,” said Thorn.
“I suppose that’s one of your grandfather’s sayings?” said Lily. “Sort of makes sense in a stupid way.”
Thorn grinned. “And thanks, about my dad. I never got the chance to tell you. I really appreciate what you’ve done.”
“That was Tyburn’s idea. We haven’t had a huntsman in Castle Gloom for years, and your father’s an expert woodsman.”
Dad was sailing home right now, with letters from Lily and plenty of gold. He’d collect Mom and the rest of Thorn’s family and then return in the spring. Gehenna was going to be their new home.
Who would have thought it?
Thorn tied the bandage back in place. “It’s all sorted, then.”
Lily’s brow furrowed. “No. There’s one thing left to do.”
Of course.
Tyburn had been down to the blacksmith earlier today, with an ax. He’d spent an hour sharpening it.
Tomorrow was Earl Pan’s execution.
The bats knew. Flocks gathered on the bare trees that clung to the mossy boulders on the slope. The morning mist, too, waited, reluctant to raise the shroud of white it had spread over the gorse and dark heather.
Weeds covered the old, unkempt path, forcing Lily to step carefully as she continued up Lamentation Hill. It was hard work in her thick, embroidered skirts and jewelry, so she was breathing heavily when she reached the top.
And found two men waiting.
Tyburn, his hand resting on the haft of an ax.
Pan, trembling.
A few yards farther was a stone. Low, flat, and stained. The weeds had been stripped off so it looked unnaturally tidy compared to the rest of the summit.
How did it feel when you laid your cheek against the cold stone?
Against the Traitor’s Pillow?
Her uncle shivered in a yellowed shift. He looked small and pathetic. His eyes were red—not from drink, not this time, but from tears.
I want to cry. But I can’t.
I am Lady Shadow.
She needed to be strong. “Earl Pandemonium Shadow…”
Her uncle flinched as she said his name.
I am Lady Shadow and I do not cry.
Lily continued. “Earl Shadow, by your own admission you are a traitor. There is no greater crime than to betray your liege lord. A man who was not just your ruler but also your brother. There is only one penalty for such a crime.” She looked at her uncle, but he wasn’t really there. She gazed right through him, as if the job was already done. “Are you ready to die?”
Pan seized Lily’s hand. “Please, Lily. You’re not like this. I know you. You know me. Lily, think about all the things we’ve done together. Who taught you how to read and write? Who read you stories every night, every night, because your parents were too busy? I soothed your nightmares, child. The first words you ever spoke were to me. To me.” His fingers tightened. “Please, Lily. I made a mistake. It was the mask. When I wore it, it made me do terrible things. Things you know I’d never do. Please, just give me one more chance.”
Everything he said was true. There had been times he’d been more of a father than her real one.
How can I kill my own kin? How can I do something so evil? So unnatural?
Because I am Lady Shadow.
She had to remind herself. Lady Shadow. Ruler of Castle Gloom.
She had to show them she was strong. That no one was above the law. That she would dispense justice to both the great and small.
Lily slipped her hand from Pan’s. “Tyburn?”
The executioner glanced down at the Traitor’s Pillow. “On your knees, m’lord.” He spoke quietly, plainly. There was no joy or triumph in his voice. He was the executioner and this was his job, no more, no less. How Lily envied him. She was the one who had to decide who lived or died. All the guilt was hers.
Pan knelt down. “Here?”
Tyburn nodded. “Rest your cheek against the stone. Stretch your hands out on either side to steady yourself.”
Lily couldn’t breathe. She could imagine the cold granite against her cheek, as if it was her lying there.
After his death, then what? Would she summon his ghost one day, like she had summoned Custard?
Pan put his head down. “Like…like this?” He sounded like a small child, unsure of the simplest things. Pan gripped the stone until his fingers went white. “I’m so sorry.”
Tyburn lifted the ax. “Close your eyes, m’lord. If you want.”
Pan squeezed them shut.
“M’lady?” asked Tyburn.
He has to die. He killed my father, mother, and brother. He killed poor Rose.
The other great lords will fear me all the more if I execute him. They will be reluctant to raise their hands against me, because, if I can do this to ones I love, what horrors would they suffer?
All of this, with the simple swing of an ax.
Given such a choice, would any other ruler hesitate? Would Duke Solar? Of course not. Not for a second.
And that was reason enough.
“Wait.”
She met Tyburn’s questioning eyes. Lily shook her head, and he lowered the blade.
“Stand up, Uncle.”
Knees wobbling, Pan got to his feet. He stood ther
e, cringing. “What’s going on?”
“Run,” said Lily. “Run far away.”
“You’re…letting me live?”
“Live? I suppose so,” she said. “You’re a traitor, Uncle. Everyone in the New Kingdoms knows it. Who will shelter a traitor? Everywhere you go you’ll be despised, spat upon. If that’s living, then, yes, I’m letting you live.”
Barefoot, dressed in his thin shift, Pan shuffled away from the Traitor’s Pillow, looking back to say, “Thank you, Lily. Thank you.”
“I didn’t do it for you.” Lily pointed into Spindlewood. “Run and never come back.”
Pan nodded. He stumbled over the roots and sharp stones, then he ran, frantic to get away from the hill. The bats launched themselves after him, their shrieks mocking his cowardice. Then they and Pan were lost in the mist, their cries the last thing trailing behind them.
It’s over.
A weight rose off Lily’s shoulders as Pan disappeared. “Did I do wrong, Tyburn? Should I have executed him?”
Tyburn rested the ax on his shoulder. “That all depends on what sort of ruler you wish to be, m’lady.”
Mary unlocked the doors into the Eclipse chambers. Lily stood beside her with the red ledger under her arm.
“I don’t see why I have to do this,” said Lily.
“K’leef was your guest, that’s why,” said Mary. “And his father has asked for his things to be returned.”
The rooms hadn’t been entered since K’leef’s arrest. Now her friend was back home, and they’d received a letter from the sultan thanking them for saving his son. The letter had come with a gift, a ruby the size of Lily’s fist.
“I’ll collect K’leef’s belongings, and you tick them off.” Mary opened up the first chest and sighed as she stared at the pile of silks. “This could take a while.”
Mary called out the number of shirts, the number of boots and cloaks and tunics and gloves, and Lily steadily crossed them off. Then came the jewelry. Mary opened up K’leef’s box of rings. “Right…” She picked them out and spread them over the table. “Sixteen rings. All amber.”