Ruled by Shadows (Light and Darkness Book 1)

by Jayne Castel

  Saul’s face was a mask of schooled boredom. “My father and his neighbors have rarely seen eye to eye,” he replied. “It’s not a surprise to me that relations between him and King Aron have deteriorated.”

  Across the room Ryana sat up and leaned forward. “So you had no idea that an invasion was imminent?”

  Saul held her gaze. “My father’s politics don’t interest me.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  Saul smiled. “Believe what you want—I couldn’t care less.”

  Ryana’s face hardened. “So you don’t care that Serran is at war?”

  Again, another smile. “Evidently not.”

  A row may have erupted then, for Ryana’s face went white and pinched, and her mouth thinned. However, the inn-keeper chose that moment to knock on the door. A moment later his voice rumbled through the thick oak. “I’ve brought your supper.”

  Hrolf entered, with his son—a lad of around ten years—behind him. They carried in platters of food and drink.

  “Good eve,” Hrolf grunted. He set the platters down on the table. “Supper will cost you two bronze talents.”

  Wordlessly, Saul climbed to his feet in a fluid movement, and dug into the purse at his belt.

  He handed the inn-keeper the bronze talents, as well as another of silver.

  Hrolf’s eyes widened, and he shot Saul a questioning look.

  Saul smiled. “If anyone comes here, asking after me or my friends, you’ve never seen us.”

  Hrolf held eye contact for a few moments before he nodded.

  When the inn-keeper and his son had left the room, Ryana leaped to her feet. “Why did you do that?”

  Saul gave her a dismissive look before helping himself to some bread and cheese. “Just ensuring Hrolf keeps his mouth shut.”

  “All you’ve done is made him suspicious. What makes you think he’ll not sell you to the first person who comes knocking?”

  Saul snorted. “He won’t—he knows what’s good for him.”

  Ryana made a choking sound, as if forcing back her anger. “That might be so but, in future, consult us before you make lordly gestures.”

  In response, Saul gave Ryana an infuriating smile before turning his back on her and crossing to his sleeping pallet. Ryana glared at his back and then helped herself to food off the table. Her movements were sharp and jerky, a sign of the anger she was only just managing to leash.

  Lilia and Dain both got to their feet and served themselves some supper. Outside the open window, the sky had gone the color of a bruise and a chill seeped in. Lilia went over to the window and closed the wooden shutters, bolting them shut.

  “It’s cold for this time of year, isn’t it?” she observed.

  None of the others answered. Either her companions hadn’t heard her, or they were too preoccupied with their own thoughts to care.

  The evening passed slowly, in contrast to the urgency of the last two days. It felt odd, almost as if time stood still for the night.

  Lilia sat on her pallet, back against the damp stone wall, and mulled over the events that had brought her to the mainland. Ever since that morning in the yard outside The Grey Anchor, things had happened so fast she’d barely had time to dwell on them.

  In an instant, her life had been uprooted. The King Breaker lay like a lump of ice against her skin, a constant reminder of why she was here. Since fleeing Port Needle, her shadow had been mercifully silent. Apart from her trips to the privy, the others never left her alone for a moment. Despite that she wasn’t sure about her choice of travelling companions, Lilia was grateful they were with her nonetheless.

  I’m not capable of doing this on my own.

  Just the thought her companions might abandon her caused Lilia to break out in a cold sweat. She looked up from her introspection, her gaze sweeping around the room. Dain and Saul were both stretched out, dozing, on their pallets, whereas Ryana was sitting up, her back against the wall. The enchanter stared out into space, her gaze inward.

  “Ryana …”

  The woman blinked and glanced Lilia’s way. “What?”

  “This silence, it’s getting to me.”

  A wry smile twisted Ryana’s lips. “I was enjoying it.”

  “I’m used to keeping busy,” Lilia replied quietly. “The evenings at The Grey Anchor are the busiest time.”

  Ryana shrugged. “Things will be different now—your only purpose is to keep that stone safe till we reach the capital.”

  Lilia watched her a moment. Ryana was an enigma. She had liked the light-hearted scop with the independent spirit she had known back on Orin—but she wasn’t sure about this woman. Ryana had a watchfulness she didn’t trust. Plus, she had a temper and bitterness that bubbled just under the surface. Nevertheless, they were stuck with each other for the moment, and the enchanter’s abilities could prove useful if The Brotherhood caught up with them again.

  The thought of those men, dark silhouettes clad in leather against the skyline as they closed the gap, made her pulse quicken.

  She licked her lips, which suddenly felt dry. She was tired of feeling scared all the time. It was different now though—in the past her fears had been nameless, nebulous. These days she had a real reason to be frightened.

  “Will your Order be able to help me?” she asked, finally.

  Ryana nodded. “They will keep you, and the stone, in safe-keeping.”

  “They didn’t do such a good job last time.” Across the room, Saul had woken from his dozing, and had rolled onto his side. He was now observing Ryana coolly. “They let one of their own steal the last piece of The King Breaker.”

  Lilia tensed—thank the Shadows he didn’t know the rest of the story. Not that knowing it made her feel any better. If anything, it was just another reason not to trust Ryana.

  However, she didn’t want Ryana and Saul to start bickering again; her nerves were on edge as it was. She would never be able to sleep at this rate. Lilia ignored Saul’s barb and focused on the enchanter.

  “Could you sing for us, Ryana?” she asked.

  Ryana glanced at her, irritated. “The only songs I have in mind to sing tonight are grim ones.”

  “It matters not,” Lilia assured her. Ryana’s voice had a soothing quality; Lilia didn’t care what subject she chose to sing about. “Any song will do.”

  Ryana’s mouth pursed, and she cast a sharp look across the room at Saul. “Very well.” She reached down and retrieved a small harp from her leather pack. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Further along from Ryana, Dain stirred, rolled over and yawned. He peered across at Lilia, his light brown hair rumpled, and was about to speak when Ryana began to pluck at her harp.

  Long, sad notes echoed through the room, transporting Lilia back to The Grey Anchor and those nights she had sat by the hearth after work listening to Ryana. Her tense shoulders relaxed slightly in response.

  Then Ryana began to sing.

  The dark years are upon us

  Valgarth rules

  Smoke in the Shadefells

  Fields of cairns.

  Gone are the old gods

  We worship the black altar.

  The dark years are upon us

  Valgarth rules

  United under one cruel king

  An army of shadows.

  Gone are the old ways

  We toil for our new lord.

  The dark years are upon us

  Valgarth rules

  Dominated, doomed

  Driven like oxen.

  Gone is hope, gone is the light

  His shadow obscures the sun.

  It was a mournful song, one that spoke of utter loss of hope—and it chilled Lilia’s blood. The song was old, crafted at a time when The Shadow King had ruled Serran. Although Lilia knew the story of the dark enchanter who had seized power all those years ago, and his reign of terror, she had never felt it till this moment. Until now those dark years had only ever been a story, safely buried in the pa
st.

  For the first time Lilia sensed what it felt like to lose your freedom, to lose hope. The stone around her neck was responsible for locking The Shadow King away in his mountain prison—yet it was also part of the key that could set him free.

  I can’t let that happen.

  A hollow silence followed once Ryana’s voice had died away. Dain looked troubled and even Saul wasn’t smiling.

  Saul cleared his throat. “You weren’t lying—I’ve never heard anything so depressing.”

  Ryana and Saul’s gazes met and held.

  “It’s a reminder,” Ryana said quietly. “What happened in the past, can come to pass again.”

  Saul gave her a lopsided grin. “Why don’t you sing us a bawdy tavern tune instead?”

  Ryana shook her head and tucked away her harp into her pack. “I’m not in the mood.”

  17

  The Encounter

  A misty dawn rose over Idriss as four figures wearing packs made their way down the snaking stairs of the upper town. They had risen early, before the first glimmer of dawn illuminated the eastern sky, and had left The Sailor’s Rest under the cover of darkness.

  Lilia walked between Ryana and Dain. She was on edge this morning. Ryana’s song had left her out-of-sorts, and she had barely slept during the night. Instead, she had lain staring up into the darkness, worrying about what lay ahead.

  Lilia did not like the foggy gloom this morning. She was not fond of venturing outdoors before the sun was up, and even less keen to do so with tendrils of mist snaking through the streets like some ghostly kraken.

  However, she knew they had to leave this early—before The Brotherhood found them.

  Lilia pulled her cloak close around her, glad of its warmth. Although she felt odd wearing them, her new boots were snug and gripped the worn stone steps as she descended them. Her leggings allowed her to stride out as her skirts never had.

  They descended the levels, the soles of their boots scraping on stone, until they reached the claustrophobic streets of The Tangle. Here, Saul led them north, through a network of fetid alleyways. The lamps were guttering, and some of them had already gone out. The encircling mist blocked out the rising sun. The fine hair on the back of Lilia’s arms prickled. She would be relieved when they had left the slums behind.

  Dain appeared at her shoulder. “Are you alright, Lily?” he asked quietly.

  Lilia nodded, although it was a lie. In truth, her skin was bathed with sweat, and her heart fluttered like a trapped bird against her ribs. Of course, Dain had seen her reaction yesterday in The Tangle; he knew she didn’t like this place.

  It was cold and damp in the slums. Shabby stone buildings made of stained, pitted stone reared overhead, and a milky mist trailed through the streets at knee-height.

  “I’ve never liked the darkness,” she whispered back. “It reminds me of—”

  “Quiet!” Saul’s voice cut through the mist. “No talking until we’re clear of the city.”

  Dain and Lilia exchanged looks but heeded him. He had a point; the slightest sound carried in these narrow stone alleys.

  They entered a slightly wider street, littered with refuse and festooned with washing lines. A row of guttering lanterns, consuming their last dregs of oil, illuminated the way, casting long shadows across the cobbles.

  Lilia’s amulet started to burn ice-cold against her skin.

  Stifling a gasp, she reached under her shirt and clasped it. Occasionally, The King Breaker did that—going so cold that it burned her. It seemed to do so whenever she was on edge, or afraid.

  They were half-way up the street when Lilia saw Saul pull up short, the movement so sudden that Ryana nearly walked into his back.

  The hiss of Saul’s warning a moment later, made her freeze mid-step. “Stop.”

  A heartbeat passed. Lilia peered up ahead. Fog snaked down the street but she could see nothing.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  “Quiet.” Saul growled. “There’s something watching me.”

  Lilia stopped breathing. Her instinct to turn tail and run so strong that she had to clench her fists by her sides to prevent herself. A few steps ahead, Ryana had gone still.

  The first indication that they were not alone on that street was the strong odor that floated toward her—feral and musky. Then she heard the rasp of labored breathing.

  The mist cleared and all of them saw what had stopped Saul in his tracks.

  From a distance it resembled a naked man. Yet the moment your eyes adjusted you knew it wasn’t—there was a wrongness about the form, even from afar. Emaciated and bent double with long lank hair hanging over its face, the stranger stood there in the center of the street blocking their path.

  It was still, unnervingly so.

  Then it slowly raised its face; the hanks of greasy hair parting to reveal a hard, wolf-like stare. That predatory gaze fixed upon Saul. Although the body was that of a man’s, the face reminded Lilia of a lizard: pale with small, flattened features.

  A wave of animal musk hit Lilia like a wall. She choked back a gag.

  The years rolled away, and she was back at Shingle Ford, tied to a tree, and alone in the woods as something in the darkness stalked her. The same odor had surrounded her that evening.

  “Back up.” Saul murmured to his companions, although he kept his gaze fixed firmly upon the naked figure standing just a few feet away. Slowly, he drew one of his knives. “We’ll take another route.”

  No sooner had he spoken when it lunged for him.

  It moved fast, quicker than a man ever could. One moment it had been watching Saul, the next it leaped for his throat.

  Saul had no time to raise his blade, no time to react. His knife spun from his hand, clattering to the cobbles. He fell on his back, atop the pack he carried, and his attacker landed on top of him. Its hands locked around his throat.

  Ryana rushed forward, gathering the Dark as she went. Her cries, in the same harsh tongue Lilia had heard at the pier in Wellwash, echoed across the street. The shadows scuttled toward the enchanter.

  Ryana’s hands moved furiously as she gathered the shadows to her, whipping them into a chattering twister. A moment later, she launched her whirlwind of darkness at where Saul and his attacker wrestled on the ground.

  But the column of shadows merely ricocheted off the two struggling figures.

  Lilia watched as the twister bounced back and splintered against the walls. The shadows fled, wailing into the dark corners of the street. Ryana cursed.

  Lilia staggered and collided with Dain. She felt his hand clamp around her upper arm, drawing her away.

  The sound of Saul’s choking drew Lilia’s gaze once more to where he twisted and bucked under his attacker’s iron grip. He was moments away from dying.

  Dain released Lilia’s arm.

  She watched him step around her, drawing his axe as he went. Dain didn’t hesitate, although his face was drawn and pale in the silvery dawn light. He closed the gap and lifted his axe high above his head before bringing it down on the back of the attacker’s neck.

  The meaty thud and crunch of iron slicing through flesh and bone followed.

  The attacker grunted and fell, flailing, off its victim. Dain brought the axe down once more—and dark blood splattered over his face.

  Saul rolled away, gasping and choking for breath, while the gangly, pale figure slumped to the ground, its head rolling across the cobbles. A lake of blood spread out from its twitching, headless corpse.

  Dain stared down at it. Then he reached up and wiped the blood from his face, before lowering his hand to examine it. “It bleeds,” he murmured, surprised.

  Lilia approached. Her heart was hammering so loudly she felt as if it would leap from her chest. “Dain, are you hurt?”

  Dain looked at her, his face all taut angles in the dying lantern light, before he shook his head. His gaze shifted to Ryana. The enchanter’s face was drawn, her eyes dark. “Was that a Nightgenga?”

/>   Ryana nodded before bending down and helping Saul to his feet. “I’ve never heard of them venturing into towns before.”

  “Well this one did,” Saul rasped, rubbing his injured neck. His blood-splattered face was ashen, his gaze glassy.

  Lilia’s gaze darted around, peering into the deep shadows. “Will there be others?”

  “From what I’ve heard, Nightgengas don’t usually hunt in packs,” Ryana answered as she too surveyed their surroundings. “Although I’d rather not wait around to find out.”

  They wanted to flee Idriss without a backward glance, but there was a stop they had to make first.

  The sun was rising in the east, bleeding over the edge of Mount Velar, when they reached the city’s northern outskirts. The look of Idriss changed here. Gone were the narrow streets and the tall, dark buildings of stone. Instead timbered buildings lined unpaved streets and thatched or sod roofs replaced dark tiles.

  The horse dealer’s where Saul and Ryana had done their business the day before, was a low-slung complex of timbered buildings centered around a straw-strewn stableyard.

  The proprietor was waiting for them. A heavyset man with a thick red beard and close-cropped hair of the same color, he gave the group a speculative look as they approached. “I thought you’d be here at first light?” he greeted them. “I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.”

  “We were delayed,” Ryana replied.

  The horse trader nodded. His gaze swept her companions before resting on Saul, taking in his bruised, swollen neck and subdued expression. The man frowned but refrained from making any comment.

  He led them into the stables where four horses were saddled and ready to go. They were all stocky cobs: two bays, a grey and a chestnut. None of them looked fast; instead these horses were bred for endurance.

  Saul paid the man, while the others led the horses out of their stalls. Lilia took the grey mare, while Ryana sprang up onto the back of the chestnut gelding. Dain and Saul rode the two remaining horses.

  Bidding the horse trader good day, they set off. On horseback, travelling at a brisk trot, they soon left the outskirts of Idriss behind.