Ruled by Shadows (Light and Darkness Book 1)

by Jayne Castel

  “And The Brotherhood?” Dain spoke up, breaking the heavy silence at the table. “Can you use the Dark to learn if they’re following us?”

  Ryana shook her head once more. “My abilities don’t work that way. I can only wield sources of darkness and shade close to hand, and I can cast charms around me—nothing more.”

  The enchanter’s tone was sorry, but Dain brushed her apology aside. “I was just trying to find out what weapons we have,” he replied. “Your skills have already saved us once, and they’re likely too again.”

  Screams woke Lilia from a fitful sleep that night.

  She sat up, heart pounding, eyes wide in the darkness, while outside the tavern wails and screeches split the night.

  A few feet away, Dain cursed as he too awoke. On the other side of the drafty room she heard the rustle of movement—the screams had also roused Saul and Ryana.

  The tavern was the only establishment in Hillbrook that let out rooms to travelers, just a handful of bare rooms with cold wooden floors. The owner had bolted the doors tight that night after closing, and warned all the guests to lock themselves in their chambers, just in case intruders forced themselves into the tavern through another entrance. At the time, Lilia had thought him over-cautious; hours later she did not.

  A sharp wail of terror echoed down the night-shrouded valley outside, and Lilia started to sweat.

  She now understood the villagers’ fear. Earlier, she had thought them merely ignorant and witless—but listening to the commotion outside she finally realized what had pushed them to give the mother and her simple son as sacrifice. Terror could do that to you.

  “Why now?” she gasped, clutching at the rough blankets bunched up under her chin. “They’ve kept away from us for centuries.”

  “Something has shifted out of balance,” Ryana replied, her voice hoarse with sleep. “Something has made them bold.”

  “What has the power to do that?” Saul asked.

  “I wish I knew,” Ryana replied, “although I can’t help think that you finding the missing piece of The King Breaker could be the catalyst for all of this.”

  “So it’s my fault?” Saul countered.

  “Possibly.”

  Lilia sensed the escalating tension between Saul and Ryana—now wasn’t the time for fighting. “My shadow spoke to me in Tallow,” she spoke up. “It told me that something was wrong … that the unseasonal weather is a sign.”

  There was a moment’s silence while her companions digested this news.

  “What else did this shadow of yours say?” Ryana demanded.

  “Little—only that it has sensed something amiss.”

  “Should you even be listening to it?” Dain asked. “From what you’ve told me, it’s not to be trusted.”

  “You’re probably right, but—”

  A deep, throaty growl sounded in the street below.

  Lilia shuddered; her heart now thundering so loudly she wondered if the servant of the shadows could hear it, could smell her terror.

  “What should we do?” she whispered. She thought then of their four horses stabled below—would they still be there come morning?

  “Nothing,” Ryana murmured back, a low voice in the smothering dark. “We have no choice but to sit this out. The world will return to normal with the dawn.”

  The world did indeed right itself with the rising of the sun. However, Hillbrook bore the signs of an attack in the watery grey light that filtered through the low cloud shrouding the village.

  After a hasty breakfast, the four companions retrieved their horses from the stables out back and made their way to the eastern gate. The horses were nervous this morning: prancing and snorting, jumping at shadows. It had been a long night for them all. Lilia had been relieved to find their mounts stabled where they had left them, on edge but unharmed.

  On the way out of Hillbrook, Lilia spied signs of trouble: doors ripped off hinges, pools of congealing blood on the street, and an unnatural stillness as those who had survived the attacks still cowered indoors. Axes, scythes and hoes scattered the street—men had tried to fight their attackers off out here, and had lost.

  Lilia shared a glance with Dain, noting that his face was drawn from lack of sleep, his skin pale as he took in his surroundings.

  The eastern gates were still closed when they reached them, and none of the village garrison came forward to open them. Saul and Dain dismounted and, together, unbarred the heavy oaken and iron gates, before pushing them open just far enough for their horses to pass through.

  Then, they were on their way.

  They rode up the hill, toward the line of trees carpeting the land to the east. At the top of the hill, Lilia glanced back over her shoulder at the village below.

  Hillbrook lay in shadow; a huddle of wooden buildings and flimsy dwellings that had not been built to withstand nightly attacks. Mist curled amongst the thatched roofs, rising up from the stream that trickled through the valley. Despite her fears for herself, Lilia found herself worrying what would happen to the folk here. She was not sorry she had stopped them from sacrificing those two last night, yet dread lay heavy in her breast when she thought of these people having to face the same terror night after night.

  The night had left all four of them out of sorts. Few words passed between them as they cantered in single file—Ryana out front and Saul rear-guard—following the Eastern Road over forest-clad hills and rocky valleys. They rode fast, despite their intention to let the horses travel at a slower pace today. Now that they were entering the wilds, and would find no shelter, speed was even more important than earlier.

  Lilia’s mare made a valiant effort; she was a hardy beast and Lilia marveled at her stamina. Even so, they rested the horses often, for Ryana warned them that the way would soon become harder-going as they entered the Highlands.

  Mid-morning they reached the banks of a wide river spanned by a stone bridge.

  “This is the River Brightwater,” Ryana informed them, drawing her horse to a halt and swinging down from the saddle, “we’ll water the horses here.”

  Lilia dismounted and led her horse down to the water’s edge. They stood at the bottom of a steep wooded valley. The river flowed swiftly here. No wonder folk had built the bridge; it was not safe to try and cross by any other means.

  Hills clad in beech wood rose up to the east, reminding Lilia of her father’s maps. She remembered that this river formed the natural boundary between the Western Cradle and the Highlands of Rithmar.

  As soon as they had rested and watered their horses, they remounted and set off once more, crossing the magnificent Brightwater Bridge. Built on sturdy stone pillars, the bridge formed an elegant arch from one grassy bank to the next.

  Beyond the bridge they climbed the steep hill and entered a dense forest of ash, beech and hazel. An impenetrable blackthorn and bramble undergrowth grew either side of the road, hemming them in. They met few travelers that day. Most of the traffic they had encountered so far on the journey had been merchants and farmers travelling between the towns and villages of the Western Cradle. They had passed two transport wagons coming from the capital so far, but on this stretch the road was eerily silent.

  Lilia wondered if the nightly events had kept travelers at home.

  Where we should be, she thought grimly.

  By the time dusk settled over the foothills of the Rithmar Highlands, they had traveled many leagues into the wilds.

  They camped a couple of furlongs back from the road, in a tiny clearing. Saul had hacked away the bramble here, leaving just enough space for the shelter they would need to build.

  Dain helped Saul roll out the hide they had brought, over the saplings and branches to build their tent. Meanwhile, Lilia and Ryana set up a circle of torches around the tent and the makeshift railing where they’d tied up their horses. The two women placed the torches close together so that nothing could slip between them.

  “Do shadow creatures truly fear fire?” Lilia asked as she wra
pped some tallow-soaked cloth they’d brought with them around the top of a paling she’d stuck into the ground.

  “They used to,” Ryana replied. “Once, just the sight of torches glowing on the outskirts of settlements was enough to warn them off—these days they grow bold.”

  Lilia’s belly twisted. “Will these torches be enough?”

  Ryana met her eye. “They’d better be.”

  By the time the light faded, all of them were safely inside the tent, seated around a hearth. They had no meat to roast over the embers tonight, for there had been no time to hunt during the day. Still the heat warmed their aching limbs and would hopefully keep the servants of the shadows beyond those hide walls at bay overnight.

  They had brought in a stack of wood for the fire that would last till dawn.

  Lilia passed around stale bread rolls and some salted pork and they all ate in silence, too exhausted to bother with conversation. Saul took the first watch, while his companions lay out their cloaks and bedded down around the hearth. They would all take turns at watch tonight.

  Although she had barely slept the night before, Lilia lay awake for a while, staring up at the stained hide wall of the tent above her, and watching the way the flickering flames of the fire cast dancing shadows across it. Beyond the tent, she heard one of the horses snort and shift position, its hoof snapping a twig.

  Lilia inhaled deeply, willing herself to relax. Outside, the darkness would be coming to life. She just hoped their barricade of flaming torches would be enough to keep them safe.

  She hadn’t expected to be able to sleep—not with danger breathing down her neck—but exhaustion eventually pulled Lilia into its clutches and she fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

  Until she awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of the horses squealing.

  21

  Flight in the Dark

  Disoriented, Lilia sat up, jolted out of a heavy, exhausted sleep.

  Torn awake two nights in a row. Her heart would give out if she continued to be woken like this.

  However, the sight of Saul and Ryana’s faces made any other thought flee her startled mind. Their expressions were taut, their eyes huge.

  “They’ve broken through the perimeter,” Ryana hissed, reaching for her staff with one hand, while she lit a branch from the fire with the other. “Grab what you can—we’re going to have to run.”

  Lilia did as she was told, shucking on her cloak and shouldering her pack.

  The horses squealed once more—the fear in that sound causing Lilia’s blood to chill. Grunts followed the screaming, then the thunder of hoof-beats.

  The intruders were coming for them.

  “We’re trapped in here,” Saul growled, drawing two knives in one smooth movement. “It’ll be too easy for them.”

  “Only if we let it.” Dain crouched next to Lilia, cloak and pack on, axe at the ready.

  Saul’s gaze gleamed and he nodded.

  Dain glanced at Lilia. “Draw your knife—and remember what I said, hold it low and only strike when your attacker is close.

  Clumsily, Lilia obeyed. She remembered his instructions, and was grateful for them. However, she was shaking so much right now she doubted she’d be able to use the knife.

  A heartbeat later, she spied dark shapes looming beyond the walls of the tent.

  Terror caused her breathing to choke.

  The obscene sound of ripping hide cut through the night.

  Saul had sliced open the side of their shelter. The hole gaped wide. Damp, cold air rushed in, causing the fire behind them to gutter.

  Ryana thrust her flaming torch forward and leaped out into the darkness. Saul followed at her heels. Lilia felt Dain’s hand fasten around hers before he towed her out after him.

  They had barely taken a step outside when Lilia saw what hunted them.

  Thick woodland pressed in; the trees dark shapes against the deeper black of night. The horses were gone, and the flaming torches had been knocked to the ground.

  Three slender figures clad in mist crept toward the ruined tent.

  The Hiriel—for Lilia had heard enough folktales about them to know who they were—glowed like starlight in the darkness.

  Lilia stared, momentarily stunned.

  The Hiriel were otherworldly. Willowy with elongated hands and feet, they moved with lithe grace. Although bipedal, the sprites crept forward using their hands to guide them. Their forms appeared to be made of milk, bleeding into the air around them as if it was water, curling and drifting behind them like ghostly veils. Atop their heads, each Hiriel bore a pair of slender antlers. Their eyes were twin pinpricks of white light on blank, featureless faces.

  Lilia’s limbs trembled, and she cowered against Dain.

  Saul and Ryana stepped up, providing a barrier between the Hiriel and Lilia. With a start, she realized they were protecting her, as they’d promised.

  “Stay back!” Ryana’s voice cut through the night. She thrust out her guttering torch toward them.

  The Hiriel ignored her command, silently stealing closer. All the while the milky substance that bled from their bodies snapped and billowed around them.

  The odor of hot iron—unnatural in the midst of woodland—wafted toward Lilia.

  Hissing a curse, Ryana threw aside the flaming torch. Lilia caught a flash of pale flesh as the enchanter swept her hand wide about her, gathering the Dark.

  The Hiriel saw her action and drew themselves up tall. Then they charged toward her—their long arms stretched out and elongated fingers curved in claws.

  A tide of writhing blackness—Ryana’s allies—collided with the Hiriel.

  Chilling wails, the rage of beings not used to being challenged, rent the misty air.

  “Run!” Ryana ordered. “Up the hill—now!”

  Dain hesitated. “What about you?”

  “I’ll be right behind you—run!”

  All three of them obeyed her.

  They turned and sprinted across the clearing, diving through the outer perimeter of torches and into the cloak of darkness beyond. Lilia clung to Dain’s hand; he was her lifeline, her only hope of survival.

  Her breath rasped in her throat, her heart pounded in her ears, and fear gave her feet wings. Likewise, Dain ran as if The Shadow King himself pursued them, just two paces behind Saul who led them up the thickly wooded hillside.

  Lilia heard cracking branches and the sound of running feet behind her. True to her word, Ryana was following.

  Branches snagged at them, raking against their exposed faces and clawing at their cloaks and packs, intent on slowing their pace up the hill. The way grew stepper, studded with rocks that jutted out of the damp soil and slammed into their toes and shins.

  Fear made Lilia oblivious to the pain. The darkness pressed close; the low cloud blocking out the moon and the stars. They fled, blind in the dark, working their way by feel up the steepening slope.

  They reached the top of the hill, and the trees drew back. A dank breeze feathered their faces as they stumbled around. The dark shapes of boulders, deeper black than the surrounding night, loomed through the murk.

  “There’s space under this one,” Saul panted. “Quick—inside.”

  Lilia and Dain followed him under the lip of a great boulder at the crest of the hill. Moments later, Ryana dove under it, squeezing in tight next to them.

  “They’ll find us here,” Lilia gasped. “There’s no way to block the entrance.”

  “There is,” Ryana grunted. Her back was pressed against Lilia as she turned to face the darkness, her right hand sweeping before her. Guttural words echoed through the night.

  Peering over Ryana’s shoulder, Lilia’s bowels cramped at the sight of three shadowy forms flitting toward them, their misty cloaks billowing around them like tattered lace. Their pale gazes speared her and Lilia knew a moment of absolute terror.

  It’s me they want.

  The sound of stone grating against stone drew her gaze from the approaching
Hiriel. The shadow creatures were just a few yards away when another boulder—much smaller than the one they were hiding under—rolled in front of the entrance to their hiding place.

  The boulder came to rest, a wall of impenetrable black, with a dull thud, sealing them inside.

  Time passed.

  Their hiding place was dark and airless. After a while, Lilia started to feel as if the surrounding rock was closing in on her. Squeezed in between Dain and Ryana, there was no room to move, or to stretch out her limbs. She was also acutely aware of the feel of Dain’s body against her back, as they were spooned together in the cramped space.

  Beyond their prison of stone, there was silence; no sign the Hiriel were lurking outside, or had gathered more of their number. She strained her ears, listening for them, but could hear nothing but the rasping of her own and her companions’ breathing, and the steady thump of her own heart.

  “The air in here,” Saul finally broke the smothering silence. “It grows thin … I can’t breathe.”

  He was right, each breath was becoming an effort. If they remained trapped in here much longer they would suffocate.

  With a grunt, Ryana muttered a few words in the enchanter’s tongue, shifting against Lilia as she moved her hands. Heavy scraping sounded and the rock door shifted slightly, letting in a draft of damp, cold air.

  Lilia inhaled deeply, gasping great breaths of it. Now that there was a tiny gap above them, sounds of the night beyond intruded. Howls, cackles and far off screams echoed through the darkness.

  Lilia shuddered. As confining as their hiding place was, she had no wish to leave it until daylight bathed the world once more.

  Stiff, bleary-eyed and chilled, the four figures crawled out from under the boulder shortly after dawn.

  Lilia straightened up, her gaze taking in the top of the hill she had clambered up in the dark. A maze of boulders of varying sizes studded the top and behind them rose the ruins of an ancient stone watch tower. Mossy and made of crumbling damp stone, it resembled a giant crown. In the dark, none of them had even realized it was there.