The Shadow's Heart

by K J Taylor

  Myfina gave him a hug. ‘You were right, that was a great story. I’ll pour you some more wine — I think you’ve earned it.’

  ‘Yes, please!’ Heath turned to Caedmon. ‘But listen, Caedmon. I think …’

  ‘Yes, Heath?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Heath shook his head. ‘I never was a very religious man, but I have a feeling right now, as if there’s a reason why I came back to you. Not just so I could help you again, but also so I could tell you all this. About the island, and the lost tribe.’

  ‘What about them?’ asked Caedmon.

  ‘I think you should go to them,’ said Heath. ‘I think you should fly to that island and stay with them the way I did. Learn from them, the way I did.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You want to be king,’ Heath said seriously. ‘King of the North and all Northerners. The people on that island are some of the people you want to rule. And besides, they’re Northerners in a way that you and I aren’t. It’s a funny thing that I’ve been thinking since I went there, but I think it’s true. We won the war against the Southerners, but we lost something as well. We never got back what the Southerners took from us, all the things they made us forget. Don’t you see, Caedmon? We won the war, but we lost ourselves. Underneath it all we’re just glorified Southerners with different looks. We live like they live, we squabble among ourselves and fight for power, we partner with griffins … It’s not our way, Caedmon. It’s not our true way. The lost tribe are the only ones left who know what we used to be. I think that if you want to be king, then it should be your duty to make sure it doesn’t die with them.’

  Myfina looked thoughtful, and glanced at Caedmon to see how he was taking it.

  Caedmon eyed Heath with a new respect. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘You’re completely right. And I think that’s what my mother was always on about. I never really understood it properly back then, but now I think I do. Yes.’ He nodded. ‘I’ll go there. When my mother comes back to see us, I’ll tell her about all this. I’m sure she’ll agree, and maybe she’ll want to come with me.’ He looked to Myfina. ‘What about you, Myfina? Do you want to come as well?’

  ‘If you go, then I will too,’ she said at once.

  ‘I’ll have to come along,’ said Heath, ‘to show you the way. And I think I should probably be there to introduce you, too. There’s no telling what they might think when they see you two.’

  ‘Good point,’ said Caedmon. ‘But for now, get some rest. You look as if you need it.’

  Heath rubbed his face. ‘I do. It’s been a long day. D’you mind if I just curl up here?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  Heath smiled and nodded and lay down on his side by the fire, curling up inside the ragged griffin hide in a way that suggested he’d done it plenty of times in the past. Within a surprisingly short time he was asleep.

  SIXTEEN

  KULLERVO’S VOW

  Kullervo did not attend the party to welcome Prince Akhane. He had never felt at home in a crowd, and besides, he wasn’t in the mood. He felt a little odd.

  Not exactly ill, but uneasy.

  He went back to his quarters and had a meal brought to him, but didn’t have much of an appetite. Food had been brought for Senneck as well, but she wasn’t there to eat it. Kullervo wished that she were. Talking to her would have made him feel better.

  From somewhere above, his keen hearing caught the sounds of music and laughter. He knew Laela was up there now, probably dancing with her husband. Vander and Inva would be there together as well, and everyone else with their friends and family.

  Kullervo felt very alone. A lump rose in his throat. He rubbed his hands over his face like a griffin would, and sighed. If only …

  Time drew on, and the darkness seemed to increase. Still Senneck did not return, and Kullervo sat on the edge of his bed in a kind of trance, listening to the sounds of celebration high above and feeling as if the rest of the world had faded away from him, leaving only its sounds to taunt him with what he could not reach.

  Eventually, realising that there was nothing else to do now, he lay down on his side in front of the fireplace and went to sleep like a cat in the firelight.

  But his unease carried over into his sleep, and a dream came. Or at least, something came.

  It loomed over him, the fire burning low and dim in its presence. It was something utterly black and misty, nearly featureless, but … human. There seemed to be a shape hidden in there, arms and a head, and maybe eyes. Eyes watching him without expression.

  Liquid ice ran through Kullervo’s veins. He felt as if his whole body had frozen in fear. And this was a fear that went beyond a mere fear of death. It was in his soul, eating away at him like a madness from within. He wanted to curl into a ball and hide, but he couldn’t move. And then the voice came. It was whispering and echoey, as if there were several voices trying to speak at once, but all saying the same thing.

  Kullervo … ullervo … lervo … vo … vo … Kullervo Taranisäii … äii … äii …

  It was barely a voice at all, and yet it sounded … urgent?

  Kullervo managed to move his lips. ‘Who … are … you?’ His own voice felt strangled, as if every word were an effort.

  The reply came, but it was so faint and shifting that he could only grasp a fraction of it … Death … Night God … death … coming … she … coming for … you … Night God wants … death … can’t fight her … can’t resist … spirit … slave … danger!

  ‘You’re a slave?’ Kullervo found himself saying.

  The spectre didn’t seem to hear … Death, death coming … go or die …

  The voice grew fainter and fainter even as it tried to speak, but something in that shapeless blackness fought back. Its form warped and darkened, and just for an instant Kullervo saw a face. Pale, angular, bearded and terrified. Kullervo! it shouted. Run! Ruuuun …!

  ‘Father!’

  Kullervo’s own shout woke him up. He sat up almost before his eyes had opened, every sense alert for danger. But he was alone in the room.

  He lay down again and tried to relax. Just a dream. Senneck would have scoffed if she had been there. But she wasn’t, and Kullervo’s unease only increased.

  He got up and started to dress, not sure of what he was going to do next but certain that he had to leave. Something about this room just didn’t feel safe or cosy any more.

  He strode out into the corridor, but the rest of the Eyrie felt just as unpleasant. All of a sudden, he started to feel cooped up. The griffish part of him wanted to be outside, where he could see the sky. The sky meant freedom, and safety.

  He almost ran down the ramps and stairways to the lowest level of the tower, and exited through a door on the ground floor. Outside was a large open yard surrounded by a wall that protected the Eyrie from the ground — as a griffiner, and occasional griffin, he had rarely used it himself.

  He crossed it now, and found a gate that led out into the city. It was guarded, but the guards let him pass. It was only people coming in who might need stopping.

  Kullervo entered the city and began to wander along its streets, lost in thought.

  Even at night the streets were bustling. People passed him on both sides and in both directions, many of them throwing curious stares at the hulking hunchback whose ugly face didn’t match his intimidating size. But his slanted yellow eyes and broad shoulders were more than enough to make them keep their distance, even if they made him look less than Northern.

  Kullervo scarcely noticed the people he passed. Stares were so familiar to him that they didn’t even register with him much any more.

  Now he was away from the Eyrie he felt much better, or at least his irrational fear had died down. His troubles, though, had followed him.

  He wondered if he should have told Laela about what he had just seen. But no, she was busy now and she wouldn’t want to be bothered with his nightmares. She probably had enough of her own. And besides, it had just been a dream, hadn�
��t it?

  But Kullervo wasn’t so sure about that. It had felt real, and how had he known the face he had seen was his father’s? He had never met him, or seen a picture of him; all he had to go on were other people’s descriptions. Everyone said Arenadd had had a pointed beard and curly hair. The face in his dream, though, had had a scar under one eye. Had his father had a scar like that one?

  He decided that he would ask Laela. If Arenadd had been scarred like that, then …

  But if it wasn’t a dream, what else could it have been? A vision? A haunting of some sort? People said ghosts were real, but Kullervo had never seen one, or met anyone who had. Lots of things were supposed to be real, and he wasn’t so certain that any of them were — not even the gods.

  He walked on for a while, following the main street, and pursuing that line of thought. Were ghosts real? Could his father’s spirit have contacted him in his sleep? Who would know about things like that?

  Kullervo looked up and saw a large building rising above the rooftops. Unlike the other buildings around it, it was made from white stone and looked brand new. A silver crescent shone on top of its domed roof.

  It didn’t take a genius to guess what the building was. They must have finished rebuilding it while Kullervo was away. He had never been inside it, and with that thought he started to head toward it. Maybe one of the priestesses inside could tell him about spirits.

  The big front doors to the temple were open. Kullervo walked through them and suddenly felt intimidated by the size of the space beyond. The temple had no internal walls, and for sheer size and magnificence it put the Council Chamber back at the Eyrie to shame. It was, however, surprisingly gloomy. Pillars stood here and there — not in rows, but placed seemingly at random, like trees in a forest — and were decorated by silver branches with blue glass lanterns hanging from them. The light they gave off was cool and muted, like moonlight.

  The temple’s exterior might have been finished, but the interior still needed some work. Kullervo could see that the mosaic floor underfoot had only been partly finished, and no wonder: the parts that were finished were made up of thousands of tiny tiles, creating a pattern of fallen leaves interspersed with streams and pools. There were no seats here, or tables, but everything about the design, from the placing of the pillars to the patterns on the floor, directed him toward the centre and the light that waited there.

  He walked toward it, spellbound. In the heart of the temple, a circle of thirteen standing stones had been erected. The stones were smaller and the circle narrower, but he knew what they represented at once. The holy stones of Taranis Throne, recreated here in miniature.

  Unlike the stones of the throne, whose carvings were old and weathered, the stones here were freshly cut. Sharp, clear lines formed complex spiralling patterns, which wove around a central circle on each stone, featuring a triple spiral. Kullervo had learned enough to know that that these represented the full moon, which was why there were thirteen stones — one for each of the thirteen full moons of the year.

  He went in among them, and sure enough there was an altar in the circle. But this one had an attendant. Not a priestess, but a statue. It was bigger than most people — not huge, but scaled up enough to look impressive. It stood a head taller than Kullervo, who had already been scaled up himself.

  The Night God.

  She was carved from white marble, and looked horribly lifelike in a light robe that left her breasts bare. But there was nothing sensual about her. Her face was sharp and commanding, the mouth and forehead set in lines of coldness and judgement. One eye was a black gemstone, glittering and pitiless. The other was a great silver disc that shone in the light of the silver glass lanterns that stood on the altar below.

  When Kullervo saw that face, which seemed to stare straight at him with an expression of utter dismissal, all of the awe that the Temple had stirred in him disappeared. He stood there in silence, looking up into that face, and felt his former fear twist itself up inside him and turn into pure and overwhelming hatred. This was the face that looked down on humanity without love, and whispered thoughts of warfare and murder. This was the face that was supposed to belong to a mother, but underneath was concerned with nothing but gaining power through her worshippers’ ignorance and fear. Humanity had put all their darkness into this face without even knowing it, and Kullervo saw that now.

  There was a silver dagger on the altar, beside a shallow dish set into the stone and filled with water. Kullervo knew that the water was for divining the future, but he didn’t want to know anything that this face might have to tell him.

  He picked up the dagger instead, and pressed it into his palm. One quick tug sideways made blood well up through the skin. He dropped the dagger and held out his injured hand, squeezing it into a fist until blood dripped onto the altar, adding another stain to the dozens of others there.

  ‘With this blood, I call to you,’ he intoned as red splashed onto white, like a teardrop onto ice. ‘With this sacrifice of my body, I summon you now to hear my prayer.’

  He didn’t know if they were the proper words, but they felt about right.

  Nothing happened, but he had a feeling that the silence in the temple had deepened.

  He knelt, bowing his head to that savage statue, and prayed. ‘Night God,’ he said. ‘Scathach. Master of death and darkness. I am Kullervo Taranisäii, son of Arenadd Taranisäii and Skade of Withypool. I’ve never prayed to you, or stood in one of your temples before. I’ve never prayed to any god in my life. But I call you to hear me now, just once, because I promise you that after this I will never speak to you again. There is something I must tell you.’ He stood up abruptly, facing the statue, and spoke directly into its face. ‘I reject you,’ he said. ‘From today to forever, I turn my back on you. I will never pray to you, never honour you, never obey you. I know you are powerful, and that your followers are powerful, but I don’t care.’ He moved closer, hatred burning in his yellow griffin eyes. ‘I would rather die,’ he said. ‘And I will die. I will go to the void and be lost there forever, and do it gladly if it means that I can be free of you. You turned my father into a monster. You did the same to Saeddryn as well, and who knows how many others. You teach ignorance and hate, you tell human beings that they can never be anything more than what you want them to be. I tell you now, I will spend my life fighting against you. I will work to undo what you’ve done, and make the world a better place to live — without you.’

  Then Kullervo did something he had never done in his life before. He bared his jagged teeth, and spat on the Night God’s altar.

  Then he turned and walked out of the temple with rapid and powerful strides, and never looked back.

  Laela was in love.

  She knew it with her whole mind, her whole body, her whole spirit.

  Not much of a dancer, she stayed around the edges of the dance floor with Akhane and watched the others. She chatted with her betrothed every so often, but for most of the time she was happy to say nothing. It was enough just to be there with him, close enough to touch him, and wallow in the fact that he was there with her.

  During Kullervo’s absence, she had wondered if her memory of the Amorani prince had exaggerated itself over time. After all, she had only known him for a day and a night, and that had been a long while ago — more than a year by now. But if anything, she found that time had only exaggerated him. He seemed even more handsome, kinder and sweeter than she remembered, his deep, accented voice even smoother and richer to listen to. And better even than his presence was the knowledge that he would never leave her again. He was hers now, hers to keep beside her, to share her bed with and to make heirs with. Before now she had never been very interested in having children of her own, but now the prospect excited her.

  So did the thought of conceiving them, she acknowledged to herself with a wicked smile.

  She had never felt like more of a woman than she did now. In all honesty, it was a relief.

  Akhane turned to he
r with a smile. ‘You look as if you are thinking deeply, Laela.’

  She pressed herself against him, and astonished herself by tilting her head to give him a flirtatious smile of her own. ‘I was thinkin’ about you.’

  He put an arm around her in a slightly hesitant way that only excited her even further. ‘That is not a peaceful thing to know, my queen. You looked so fierce!’

  Laela’s excitement crumbled. ‘Really?’

  ‘I thought that you were thinking of your enemies and I had meant to calm you down, truly,’ Akhane said.

  She sagged slightly in his embrace. ‘I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I’ve been doin’ that too much, yeh know. It’s eatin’ me up.’

  Akhane let go. ‘What do you mean?’

  Laela looked gloomy. ‘I’m tired of it, Akhane. Tired of bein’ angry all the time. Tired of havin’ to make people scared of me.’

  ‘You do not have to do that.’

  ‘I do. Yeh don’t know how hard it is for me, rulin’ this place. I’m a half-breed. People don’t trust me. My reign ain’t based on loyalty like my dad’s was; it’s based on fear. Not gonna get loyalty now, not after all the stuff I had to do t’get rid of Caedmon’s lot.’ She was rambling a little now, slipping back into her old, crude accents. ‘So it’s gotta be fear. Remindin’ people of what happens if they don’t do what I say. Livin’ up to havin’ Skandar as a partner. I can do it, but I dunno. I never thought I’d end up as this sort of person, yeh know? It makes me feel so tired an’ lonely. It’s nice t’get a chance t’just … be myself for a while.’

  Akhane listened seriously. ‘You have done well, to rule alone like this. In Amoran, a woman is not considered powerful enough in the spirit to lead. But we know that the women here in Tara are not like our own. You are carved from ice, it is said, and have the hearts of wolves. I know enough of you, Laela, to know that you have lived up to this tale. But underneath that you are still a woman, and you should not have to live this way. Nor will you. I am here now, and I will love you as a woman should be loved, and rule by your side. We will shoulder this burden together.’