by Jayne Castel
Without further delay, they left the inn and crossed a muddy yard dotted with large puddles. The storm had spent itself overnight and a grey, murky dawn greeted them; the sun hidden behind a heavy cap of cloud.
Wordlessly, they saddled the horses, their movements deft and swift. Lilia tightened her mare’s girth and tried to still the nervousness in her belly. She didn’t like not knowing what was amiss. It made her imagination run riot. She thought on her conversation with her shadow the night before, of its warning, and wondered if she should share it with her companions.
One look at their taut faces and she decided the conversation could wait. Like her, they were nervous about their proximity to Idriss—The Shade Brotherhood were likely to be pursuing them already.
A short while later, they were riding through the deserted streets of Tallow at a brisk trot. Signs of last night’s storm were everywhere: deep puddles, refuse, and a scattering of bright green leaves and broken twigs from the willows growing alongside the river outside town.
By the town gates, a group of leather-clad men—members of the Tallow Guard—had gathered. They were all heavily armed; bearing spears, swords and axes. Some of the men watched the four horses warily as they clip-clopped across Market Square toward them, the dark outline of the Altar of Umbra rising at their backs.
Ryana drew her gelding up before one of the guards. The man met her eye, frank admiration on his face. Tall, blonde and dressed in hunting leathers and a dark cloak, Ryana cut a striking figure. Like Lilia, she’d changed her clothing in Idriss; discarding her drab scop clothing and fingerless gloves for attire more suited to a huntress. Ignoring the man’s naked interest, she fixed him with a penetrating stare. “Was there trouble last night?”
“Aye—never seen the like before.” The man’s expression clouded. “Dusk Imps and Hiriel scaled the walls.”
“Weren’t the torches lit?” Saul cut in, incredulous.
The guard nodded, his gaze never leaving Ryana’s face. “As well as all the lanterns inside the town—but they paid the lights no mind.”
“Whom did they slay?” Ryana asked, her voice low and urgent.
“Two men who sleep rough in Tallow’s back-alleys were torn to pieces—and a baker who heard a noise outside as he started work in the early hours and went out to investigate met the same end.” The guard paused here, glancing at the other members of the guard milling around him. “That’s what folk are saying. No one who had direct contact with the creatures is alive to speak of it.”
“So no one actually saw the attackers?” Saul asked.
“There were a few sightings from upstairs windows. They were Dusk Imps and Hiriel all right—brutal too.” The man’s face tightened. “We’ll have a watch patrolling the streets tonight.”
The four companions made haste along the Eastern Road for the next two days, pushing their horses as hard as they dared. They needed to widen the gap between them and The Brotherhood, should their pursuers have picked up their trail at Idriss.
The highway wound through league upon league of farmland. It grew gradually hillier—tilled fields now interspersed with thickets of ash and beech and shallow valleys.
They stayed at two hamlets along the way. There had been trouble at both villages, and folk were nervous. Locals spoke of outlying cottages being attacked, and of people being carried off during the night.
They’d arrived at both settlements to find the streets deserted well before dusk. Folk shut themselves away as soon as the light began to fade and didn’t venture out until well after dawn. Meanwhile, the residents had lit up the perimeters of the hamlets like beacons with burning pitch torches.
In daylight, they continued their journey east, and the overcast weather followed them. A cloak of low cloud settled over the Western Cradle, blocking out the sun and making it difficult to see more than a few yards ahead. Their world shrank.
They kept up a brisk canter, riding in pairs, Saul and Ryana out front with Dain and Lilia following close behind. Conversation was stilted although Lilia often saw her two companions up ahead exchange terse words as they discussed the practicalities of their journey.
The tattoo of their horses’ hooves on the open road had a lulling effect on Lilia, despite the urgency of their pace, and her thoughts turned inward. The lack of sun made the verdant landscape seem drab, and she felt her mood lower to suit. Likewise, Dain said little. The endless grey was starting to affect them all.
Two days on from Tallow, Lilia grew tired of churning over her own thoughts. As always, she and Dain rode side-by-side along the road. They reined their horses in close as they passed a travelers’ wagon. Men and women journeying from the capital sat perched upon hard, wooden slats, their expressions pained from days of discomfort. Around them lay a murky landscape draped in wet mist.
“This weather,” Lilia began, breathless from the ride. “Doesn’t it worry you?”
Dain shot a glance at her. “Not really, although I’d admit it’s not much of a summer.”
“This isn’t summer.” She raised a hand from the reins and gestured to the helmet of grey that surrounded them. We haven’t seen the sun since Orin.”
His brow furrowed. “You think it’s unnatural?”
“Aye.” Lilia didn’t mention that her shadow had made her take notice of the strange weather. “What if it’s connected to the attacks?”
“I don’t see how.”
Lilia didn’t see the connection either so she let the matter drop. However, just raising the issue with Dain made her surer that her shadow had spoken the truth. She had more to worry about than the fact The Brotherhood were tracking her. Something was wrong in the world, she felt it in her bones.
Their horses were lathered by the time they reached the village of Hillbrook later that day. The light was starting to fade and Dain’s body ached as if he’d just gone two rounds in The Barnacle. Likewise, he felt his horse’s exhaustion and was sorry for it. They’d need to slacken their pace soon or one of the beasts would go lame.
The first thing that struck Dain at Hillbrook was the isolation of the village—Ryana had told him this was the last settlement before they crossed into the wilds of the Rithmar Highlands, and he believed it. A cluster of shabby timber houses carpeting both sides of a shallow wooded valley greeted them. A battered wooden palisade ringed the village. Pitch torches burned already at intervals along the perimeter fence, casting a warm glow through the gloom. The village garrison were in the process of closing the gates as the four riders cantered toward them.
“Wait!” Saul shouted.
The men, faces pinched and eyes wild, peered out in the gloaming. “You cut it fine,” one of them growled as he pulled the gate back enough to let the four horses file inside. “Once we close the gates no one gets in or out till dawn.”
“A warm welcome,” Dain muttered, catching Ryana’s eye once they were inside.
“From what we’ve seen so far on this journey, they probably have their reasons,” she replied mildly. He watched her cast a look around her. “This place is even grimmer than I remember.”
They rode along a dirt street, lined by mean-faced timber dwellings. Halfway along, the way widened out into a muddy open space, where Hillbrook’s Altar of Umbra pierced the mist. Unlike the way into the village, where they had encountered no one, there appeared to be some commotion in the area ahead.
A shrieking, shouting crowd jostled around the base of the Altar of Umbra.
Dain frowned. “What’s going on?”
He had just spoken when two burly men emerged from a building, dragging a heavyset man clad in leather breeches and a long-sleeved woolen tunic through the mud toward the obelisk. The crowd parted before them.
Dain urged his horse forward, following his companions as they rode closer to the fracas. As he neared the altar, Dain saw that there was someone tied to the base of the obelisk; an older woman with a mane of grey hair and a proud face.
The men tied the struggling prisoner to the
obelisk as well, while the crowd jeered and spat.
Looking on, Dain felt a chill wash over him. He twisted in the saddle and called to a man who was loitering on the edge of the group of villagers.
“What’s happening here?”
“Sacrifice to the Shadows,” the man, a sallow-faced individual with a mouthful of rotting teeth, mumbled. “Every night of late, the servants of The Shadow King come. They climb our fences. They break into our homes, steal some folk away and slay others.”
Beside him, Dain heard Lilia gasp. His attention flicked back to the man and woman tied to the altar. The man was sobbing, while the woman glared out at the crowd, defiance on her face.
Dain looked around him. Where was the village garrison? The guards should put a stop to this. He surveyed the crowd but saw no sign of the men who guarded the town; Dain wagered that they’d deliberately stayed away.
“What have those two done to deserve this?” Lilia demanded, her voice choked.
The man shrugged, a sheepish look flitting across his face. “No one will miss them. He’s a simpleton, and she’s his mother.”
Dain watched Lilia draw herself up in the saddle, as she stared down at the man, eyes glittering. He’d never seen her so affronted, and had to admit anger suited her. Her brown eyes deepened, her pale skin flushed and her cheekbones accentuated. “You can’t leave them outdoors overnight. They’ll die.”
The man leered, revealing a mouthful of black, stumpy teeth. “That’s what we’re hoping—better to let the shadow creatures feast on the weak.”
Lilia’s gaze swept to Dain, her expression pleading. “We can’t let them do this.”
He stared back at her, shocked by her outburst. “This isn’t our business, Lily,” he began. “We shouldn’t interfere.”
“He’s right,” Saul spoke up. “Let’s find an inn and bed down for the night.”
Lilia glared at him. “And leave them out here?”
“Aye—if that’s what’s meant to happen.”
Lilia gave Saul a look of disgust. Then she swung down from her mare, and pushed her way through the crowd. Shocked, Dain watched her go. He’d never thought Lilia had it in her. A heartbeat later, he muttered a curse and leaped down from his own horse, striding after her.
Lilia reached the altar and faced off against the men who’d tied up the woman and her son. “Stop!”
The two men turned to her, their gazes raking over the young woman dressed in travel-stained clothing in front of them. One looked to be the village smithy, he certainly had the breadth of shoulder and brawn for it, while the second individual, short and broad, wore the clothing of someone who worked the fields. The men shared amused glances. “Are you offering to take their place?” one of them asked.
Lilia put her hands on her hips, fury turning her face pale. “You’re no better than beasts if you do this.”
“Shut up, you silly bitch!” A woman shrieked from the sidelines. “This is our home—not yours. We’ll do what we can to keep it safe.”
Dain reached Lilia’s side and put a hand on her arm to warn her from losing her temper completely, but she shook him off. “Barbarians,” she snarled. “Do you really think this will help?”
The smithy took a threatening stride toward her.
Dain drew his axe and stepped forward, shoving Lilia behind him. “Not another step,” he growled.
The smithy spat on the ground. “Offering yourself up too?”
“No, and I’ll happily carve your arms off your shoulders, if you lay a hand on her.”
“Enough.” Ryana swept into the center of the crowd, her face thunderous. “This stops now.”
The two men raised their fists and advanced on her. In response, Ryana made a gathering motion with her right hand, causing the surrounding shadows to swirl around her in a swarm.
The group of villagers drew back, their mouths gaping. One or two of them muttered oaths under their breaths. The smithy and the farmer blanched, and they lowered their fists.
Ryana turned her right palm upward, revealing the night-black star.
“I’m of the Order of Light and Darkness,” she told them, her voice flint-hard. “I serve our king—and if anyone is sacrificed here tonight he will hear of it.”
She turned to the smithy and the farmer, imperious. “Untie these two, and take them home. Human sacrifice was outlawed centuries ago, as you all well know.”
The two men just stared at her, still gaping.
“Do it!”
Movements stiff and jerky, their faces taut with anger and eyes blazing, they complied. Ryana turned to the milling crowd. “Get back to your hovels and lock the doors and shutters tight,” she ordered. “If anything comes scratching at your door tonight, you all deserve it.”
The group of villagers dispersed, although not before casting hate-filled glances at the two females who had ruined their sacrifice. As they sloped off, muttering amongst themselves, Saul sauntered up, leading the four horses behind him. “Making friends?”
Ryana cast him a sour look before turning her attention to Lilia. Dain noted that to her credit, the younger woman stood her ground, raising her chin to meet Ryana’s hard stare. However, she was shaking slightly, high spots of color staining her cheekbones.
“That was foolish,” Ryana growled. “Things could have gone badly for you.”
“I knew you’d look out for me,” Lilia countered, although the fire had gone out of her voice, and there was a slight quaver in it. “And you did.”
“Idiot,” Ryana muttered. She brushed past Lilia and retrieved her horse from Saul. “Next time you dig a hole for yourself, I’ll leave the others to pull you out.”
20
A Sleepless Night in Hillbrook
“Don’t worry, she’ll forgive you … eventually.”
Dain met Lilia’s gaze over the rim of his tankard of ale. They sat in a booth, in the corner of Hillbrook’s only tavern. Saul had gone off to the privy and Ryana was speaking with the establishment’s owner; a short, thickset fellow with a bald head that gleamed in the light of the flickering cressets lining the timber paneled walls.
Lilia stifled a wince. Ryana was the least of her worries. Now that the incident was behind her, she felt shaky and slightly ill. In hindsight, it hadn’t been the cleverest thing she’d ever done; and if the others hadn’t been there to protect her she could have ended up tied to the obelisk overnight.
Left as an offering for the servants of the shadows.
Lilia shuddered, her fingers tightening around her tankard. “The world beyond our isle is so brutal,” she murmured. “I don’t like it much.”
Dain responded with a wry smile. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking the folk of Port Needle wouldn’t act the same as those here, if threatened. When it comes down to it, people are people wherever you go.”
“They are,” Ryana agreed as she slid into the booth next to Dain. “I’ve traveled enough to confirm you’re right.”
Lilia eyed Ryana warily. “So why did you choose to live on Orin, if folk aren’t any better there than in Rithmar?”
“I didn’t end up on your isle seeking friendship,” Ryana replied, lowering her voice as Saul approached their table. “It was as good a place as any to hide.”
“Haven’t they brought us supper yet?”
Saul slid onto the leather seat next to Lilia. The booths were small, barely big enough for four, and as such Saul’s leg brushed against hers. Lilia tried to wriggle away—to put some distance between them without anyone noticing—but there was nowhere to go.
Saul noticed though, and Lilia felt his leg shift so that their thighs now pressed against each other. It was a silent statement that he remembered what had passed between them months earlier, even if she pretended not to.
Thank the Shadows that she hadn’t let Saul into her bed—or this journey would have been humiliating.
No sooner had Saul complained about the absence of supper, when two serving wenches approached the table
bearing plates of roast mutton and boiled carrots and onions. One of them, a pretty girl with curly blonde hair caught Saul’s eye and smiled at him. He gave her a lingering, appreciative look in response.
Lilia stiffened.
Let him stare at serving wenches, I don’t care.
She took a large gulp of ale and met Dain’s eye across the oaken table. He was watching her, his gaze steady. The look was so intense it was difficult to breathe in the smoky, humid air inside the tavern.
He watched her as if they were the only two alive, as if no one else mattered.
Heart thumping, Lilia stared down at her meal and wondered how she would stomach the greasy mutton. She speared a piece of carrot with a knife and forced herself to focus on Ryana, and not the two men at the table.
“What were you speaking to the tavern-owner about?” she asked lightly.
“I was asking of the troubles here,” Ryana replied.
“And?” Saul drawled, leaning back against the upholstered leather.
“The folk here are panicked for good reason. So close to the wilds, the woodlands are filled with shadow creatures, and they’ve started to come out in droves after dark.”
Lilia’s mouth went dry. “You said this is the last settlement before the capital. We’ve got days of open country ahead of us. What will we do at night?”
“Put up lots of torches, light a big fire and hope for the best,” Saul quipped. Lilia glared at him, but Saul shrugged. “Like the rest of you I hadn’t bargained on this.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have the answer either,” Ryana added. Her proud face looked drawn this evening, her eyes hollowed. “If I was of the Light, I’d be more use to you at night. I’d be able to turn firelight into a shield.”
Lilia met her eye. “Can’t you use shadows in the same way?”
Ryana sagged in her seat and shook her head. Lilia watched her. She knew that Ryana’s failure in defending them against the Nightgenga had rattled her, but decided now wasn’t the best time to bring it up. They were all on edge.