Shadows Falling Season One: Thrice Dead Men

by T. E. Hodden

  “You are the bastard!” She snapped, touching her wrist. “Dog! To me!”

  Ajax sauntered into the kitchen, and gazed at the woman.

  “This man is not welcome here!” The woman said, her voice firm with command. “Cast him out.”

  The dog gave her a doe eyed look, and turned to me. He crouched to sniff a blood spot on the floor. As he rose he became more wolf than fox, but retained his ember colours. He turned on the woman with a dangerous growl.

  I reached up and felt the trickle of hot, sticky, blood from my ruined nose.

  “Ajax, no,” I said, trying to stay calm.

  “No!” The woman pointed at me. “No! He is the bastard! He has no right to be here! Obey my command!”

  Ajax snarled at her.

  “It isn't just about family,” I sighed, showing her my mark. “I'm meant to be here. It's my duty to be here, to ask you questions. I do so representing the Lady Maysan.”

  “The Lady Maysan?” The woman wagged a finger at me. “When you earn the right to call her Auntie May, then you can ask me what I am doing in a house that carries the seal of my family. Now, call off this hound!” She looked down at Ajax, and took a wary step back. “Please?”

  I folded my arms. “Who are you?”

  Maysan crept into my thoughts. She was as distant and ethereal as ever, in the corner of my eye. The woman bristled at the presence, her stance suddenly became far less confident and a lot more nervous.

  Her name is Corvus, Maysan said, bluntly. She is family, and a knight of the court, who should be attending to her duties. If she is welcome in my home or not, depends on the next few seconds. Explain yourself Corvus.

  “He is the son of a whore who should never have thrown herself at my father!” Corvus tried to calm her tone, if not her expression. “Is this how you honour the memory of my father? By mocking him with the disgrace of-”

  Ajax took a menacing step forwards.

  “I failed in my duty, and I am putting it right!” Corvus blurted.

  Go on! Maysan prompted, halting Ajax.

  “A book was stolen from the Codex Archives. The Hanged Man. I think it was brought to this realm. I am trying to find it, and bring it back, before there is trouble.” Corvus sounded like the words had to be dragged from her by chains. “I have to do this.”

  Foolish little child! Did somebody knight you in jest? Maysan's thoughts roared with fury. Why did you not come to me?

  “Because I want to make this right!” Corvus no longer seemed so confident in her words. “Please. Auntie May, I just want to-”

  Enough. A hand fell on my shoulder. I could just about see long, delicate fingers in a lace glove, and could feel the presence by my cheek. Robert, the book is a tome of ancient spells and lore. It is worth little in terms of money, but belongs in the Codex Archives. Find it for me. Corvus will follow your lead, as though every word from your lips was my own order. Do you understand?

  “As my Lady commands.” I bowed my head.

  Corvus?

  Corvus closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “If this is what I must do to complete my duty, then very well. I will allow the bas-”

  Ajax barked at her.

  “I will do as Robert says,” Corvus corrected herself, quickly. “I will play nice.”

  Maysan withdrew from my thoughts, and Ajax trotted away. For a moment, we stood in silence.

  “Come on...” Corvus walked past me towards the stairs. “I better do something with that nose of yours.”

  We trudged upstairs to the bathroom, and she sat me on the edge of the bath.

  “Why do you think it came here?” I asked.

  “What?” Corvus touched my nose, making it throb with pain.

  “The book. The Hanged Man. Why do you think it is here?” I asked.

  “Because the visitor to the Archive who I think stole it, has gambled his way into debt, and I think he sold it to a wolf-kin who-”

  “Ah.” I smiled. “Bragle?”

  “Yes.” She frowned. “I have to set this. Brace yourself.”

  I did not have time to brace, before there was a crunch of bone, and a white hot pain behind my eyes. I howled.

  She pressed the dressing over my nose. “Sorry.”

  I waited for my jaw to unclench.

  “You know where we can find the book?” She asked, hopefully.

  I nodded. “I know where we can start.”

  “Then you will take me there, now, and we can end this.”

  I glared at her. “I am sure you intended for there to be a please in there.”

  She looked away.

  “Look,” I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “I don't mean to dishonour your father. By the decree of the Court, I have no right to his name or estate, and I can not claim to have known him at all. So, if these words mean nothing from a bastard, then try to believe them from a complete stranger: I know the loss you must have suffered, and I am very, very, sorry anybody had to feel it all.”

  “No. You don't. Don't pretend you understand.” She held herself back and tried again. “But thank you for trying to understand.”

  I stood up and adjusted my jacket. “Are we absolutely clear, that I am in charge?”

  Corvus had to make herself nod.

  “And?” I asked.

  “Please,” Corvus growled, reluctantly.

  I smiled and nodded for her to follow me.

  *

  They say that you can buy anything in the Twilight Market, if you have the coin, and you can find a corner dark enough.

  The market was accessed through an abandoned Overground cutting, down a number of flights of stairs. The vaulted halls were hewn from stone that bore the fossils of the creatures that once inhabited a primordial ocean. The market was a warren of tunnels and halls, burrowing down deep into the cold and darkness. Every nook and cranny was full of market stalls and small shops, with an ever changing array of goods and services for sale.

  As we made our way down through the many levels of the market, I glimpsed everything from pirated movies, and designer clothes, to exotic spices and dangerous weapons being bartered for. Creatures of all shapes and sizes spoke scores of different languages as they made deals, or hawked wares.

  Bragle pretended not to see us coming, as he hurried to put some of his goods out of sight beneath his stall. He was a wolf-kin, more or less human looking, with body hair as thick as iron wool, flattened features, more teeth, and ears that were too high on his head. He wore a muscle vest and a track suit. Two trained wolves kept a careful watch on his stall.

  “Mister Fawn!” Bragle gurgled. “And what can I do for you?”

  “Are you running your books again?” I asked.

  “Now, hold on...” He held up his hands. “Books of Chance are a long standing tradition that is not technically illegal...”

  “You had a debt in the Autumn Court, that you collected?” I cocked my head slightly. “A book?”

  “Ah.” Bragle scratched behind his ear with a thick nail. “The book?”

  “The book!” Carvus pushed past me and snatched Bragle by the collar. “The book you had a student of the court steal for you. The book you smuggled here. Where is it?”

  “Carvus,” I said, with a note of warning. “Stop.”

  She glared at me, and turned her attention back to Bragle.

  “Where is it, you festering boil?” Carvus growled.

  Bragle looked at me. “She knows where she is, right?”

  “She's new...” I groaned. “Carvus, that is not a good idea. Just stop before-”

  A figure pushed its way through the crowd. The Golem was taller than me, shaped like a body builder, with flesh of red bricks and cement. It wrapped a hand around Carvus' shoulder and dragged her away from Bragle.

  “THE TWILIGHT MARKET IS PROTECTED.” The Golem bellowed. “ORDER WILL BE MAINTAINED.”

  “Get your paws off me!” Carvus drew back a sleeve to show it her markings. “By the authority of the Autumn C-”


  A fist like a wrecking ball sent Carvus flying. The crowd parted to avoid her flailing arms.

  “THE TWILIGHT MARKET IS PROTECTED.” The Golem repeated.

  Carvus hopped to her feet, and tried to kick the Golem away. I blocked her, and swatted her away with the back of its hand.

  “You know me Mister Fawn,” Bragle said. “I don't pay people to steal. I had a debt, and I was offered a book, with a promise that the right people would pay a lot for it. I didn't know it was stolen...”

  “You know I have to ask...”

  “Who I was selling it to?” Bragle shook his head. “You know I can't tell you that.”

  Carvus launched herself into a whirlwind of palm strikes, that the Golem completely ignored as it dragged her out of the market.

  “I want to offer a deal, to get the book back. A long term investment.”

  “What sort of a deal?” He whispered.

  I lay thirteen pieces of silver on the table. “I'm opening an account. Thirteen pieces a week.”

  “Betting on?”

  I couldn't use a bet too likely to win too often. I had to offer him a profit.

  “The Doomsday Toll?” I suggested.

  Bragle licked his lips, greedily. “Very well Mister Fawn, very well.” He passed me the ancient leather bound book. “You can have this book back, and you can sign here...” He passed me a ledger. “For thirteen pieces of silver, every week, until the Doomsday Toll is heard.”

  I scribbled my name on the ledger, and pricked my finger, sealing the bet with a drop of blood.

  There was another shout. Carvus let out a shout as she was hurled back across the market. She landed at my feet in a bruised heap. I stepped between her and the Golem.

  “My colleague apologises, we have made a deal, signed and sealed,” I said.

  The Golem looked at Bragle.

  “The issue is settled,” Bragle admitted.

  The Golem stepped back and merged into the wall. Carvus groaned and tried to get up. I helped drag her to her feet. She was unsteady on her feet.

  “Are you finished?” I asked, with forced humour.

  *

  I surfaced from my meditations as Maysan reached into my thoughts. She was a blur in the mirror that hung on my bedroom wall.

  How much are you paying for the book?

  “Thirteen pieces of silver, a week, for the foreseeable future,” I said, wearily. “A swift deal seemed wise.”

  Given that Corvus seemed insistent on ignoring orders and finding trouble?

  “Yes. When she started a brawl with a Golem, I considered time to be of the essence.” I tried to keep my tone even. “She has many faults, but I was hardly going to let her get herself killed.”

  Your thoughts on her?

  “She...” I tried to be as kind as I could. “She has an awful lot still to learn, if she intends to be worthy of a knight's rank.”

  I agree. She needs a role model to learn from.

  I did not like the shape of that thought. “Ma'am?”

  She failed to report the theft, and in neglecting her duties, left the archive vulnerable. She will not be allowed back to the Court, until she has earned her rank. At least in your world, I know you will look out for her. I don't ask much more than you try to keep her alive. If she will learn from you, let her learn. If she calls your mother a whore, let her learn from her mistakes.

  My heart turned to lead in my chest. “As My Lady wishes.”

  Maysan withdrew, taking the smell of sweet spices and blossom with her. I was left in my apartment, with the sound of the rain.

  The Long Shadow

  Corvus paused and took a step back, as she tried to take in the tower block. It was a vast lump of post war concrete, jutting up from a car park towards the silt coloured sky. She frowned beneath the hood of her tracksuit top, shielding he eye.

  I put a hand on her shoulder, and ushered her into the lobby. We called the elevator, and the scratched, steel, doors opened, revealing a dank little lift, that stank of old urine. The mirrored plates on the walls were carved with graffiti, and the floor was covered in litter.

  “Oh good.” Corvus gagged a little as she shot me a despairing look. “Your world continues to surprise.”

  We stepped into the lift, and I chose the sixteenth floor. “You are not enjoying it much are you?”

  “No.” She wrinkled her nose. “I have yet to fall in love with such delights. I can only assume you have grown accustomed to it, as farmers grow not to notice the smell of their herds...”

  “There are worse places to spend some time,” I assured her.

  The doors of the elevator squeaked open, revealing the flickering lights, and scuffed paint of a corridor.

  “Yes. I can see that. At least my Aunt's holdings are... comfortable.” She stepped out, and turned on her feet. “And I suppose there are some of the food is decadently delicious, but... it is a long way from the bohemian little nook my father described.”

  “Comfortable?” I marched past her down the corridor, making her keep up. “That is the highest praise you can offer the mansion you are staying in?”

  “Oh please!” She caught herself laughing “It is hardly a mansion, is it?”

  We rounded a corner, and I stopped, looking back at her.

  “Corvus, I want to make something absolutely clear, before we begin,” I said, sharply.

  “You will be doing the talking?” She suggested.

  “I will be doing the talking.” I held up a finger. “And you will be making the pot of tea. You know how to make tea, don't you?”

  “I know how to ask the footman to have tea brought to me,” Corvus answered.

  I waved a finger at her.

  “I am joking!” She hurried to keep up with me. “I am joking. Of course, I can make tea.”

  I found the door and knocked.

  The door opened as far as the security chain would allow. A nervous looking woman stared out at me. Her features were dainty and pixie like, with skin like toasted almonds. Her dark hair was tied back into a tail, and her mahogany eyes were rimmed red.

  “Miss Singer?” I asked.

  “Yes.” Her stare was as hard as flint.

  “I am sorry, I know things must be terrible at the moment, but I was hoping we could have a little talk, about your son?” I offered her a sad smile. “I think, perhaps, I may be able to help.”

  “Are you with the Police?” Marcie Singer demanded.

  “No.” I looked her in the eye. “No, nothing like that. I think I know what you saw, on the Overground?”

  My words hit Marcie with more force than I intended. She almost stepped back. “I don't know what you mean.”

  “A tall figure, in a hood and cloak like dust, that nobody else could see?” I offered.

  “Who are you?” Singer demanded again, her voice as hard as steel.

  “We are the people who will believe you,” I said, softly. “We will listen to all the things you have not been able to tell anybody else, and I can promise you, we will believe you. My name is Robert, and this is Corvus.”

  Singer opened the door, and let us in. There was an undertone of hope to her smile. “You have seen it too, haven't you?”

  Her living room was decorated in a neutral earth shade, and some mid-range flat packed furniture. It would have been simple, elegant, and stylish, if not for the jumble of toys left in the wake of a six year old boy. The television sat in one corner, and the telephone was on the table, where she was holding it under a constant vigil.

  “Not exactly.” I sat her down on her couch. “Would you like Corvus to make us some tea?”

  Singer nodded to the kitchen, and Corvus scampered off.

  “How do you know about him?” Singer asked.

  “He calls himself the Kyllan and I heard rumours that he had come to London a few days ago. I am very sorry, I was not able to find any trace of him, until I read a message about your son on a social media page. A good neighbour, asking people to look out
for him, and when I asked some questions, about how he was supposed to have gone missing, it began to match... a certain pattern.”

  “This has happened before?” Singer whispered.

  “A very long time ago,” I assured her. “Please, could you tell me about it?”

  I have never quite learned the art of being a sympathetic listener. I do my best, but I don't have Mum's knack of putting people at their ease. However, given her performance in the Twilight Market, I was not yet sure if Corvus had ever discovered the art of subtlety or diplomacy, and was loathed to let her loose on somebody suffering pain I can't begin to imagine.

  “I don't know what to say.” Singer pinched the top of her nose. “It sounds... ridiculous.” After a moment she sighed, and looked into my eyes. “It wasn't a weird day at all. We were going to see Simon's dad, you know? We took the Overground, and as we were going down this cutting, with a grassy embankment, and there was a figure between the trees. Simon saw him first, and tried to point him out to me. He was gone in a blink. A few seconds later, tens of yards up the track? He was there again. Then again. Then again...”

  “What did he look like?” I asked.

  “You said yourself, he was in a deep hood, and long cloak. It was...” She shivered. “It was like dust and moss. It changed as I watched it, like it was trying to blend in to the shadows. It was the hood that scared me. It was full of darkness and shadows, but somehow I knew it was staring at us. It was like it was staring at me so hard I felt... cold. Scared. You know how people say it feels like somebody walked over your grave?”

  I nodded.

  “It was like that.” She closed her eyes. “I tried to laugh it off, to say it was some kind of student prank, and joked we would see about it on TV sooner or later, but Simon? It shook him. He kept having nightmares about it. He was sure the man was in his room, watching him. He never was. Just shadows in the corner, and bad dreams, I thought. Except, the night he went missing...”

  Corvus set a tray of mugs down, and stirred the tea in a pot. She played mother.