Ruled by Shadows (Light and Darkness Book 1)

by Jayne Castel

  Captain Garick of the King’s Guard raised an eyebrow and regarded Dain wearily. “I don’t have time for this.”

  Dain met his eye. He knew how it looked. They must think him some deranged yokel—marching in here carrying a wood-axe and demanding to join the men heading north tomorrow morning. Still, he’d managed to find a way into the barracks and tracked down the Captain of the King’s Guard. He couldn’t let Garick turn him down.

  “I know how to fight.”

  The captain eyed him, skeptical. “You can wield a sword?”

  Dain hesitated a moment before replying. “Aye.”

  “Send him on his way, Captain.” One of the guards spoke up. Heavy-set with unruly dark hair, the soldier was sharpening his sword with a whetstone a few feet away. “I’ll do it, if you like.”

  The captain scratched at the short blond beard that covered his jaw. “We need all the men at arms we can get,” he mused, his gaze flicking to the guard who’d spoken. “Balt—bring two practice swords from the armory and let’s see what he can do.”

  The soldier stopped sharpening his blade and glanced up, his heavy features creasing into a scowl. “What?”

  “You heard me—hurry up.”

  Dain watched the man go off grumbling. Meanwhile, the captain grinned at him. Garick was in his early thirties, big and blond with an affable smile. “Balt will sort you out.”

  Dain gave him a tight smile. That brute he’d just sent off to the armory was three times Dain’s size—but then he’d fought bigger men back at The Barnacle and won. Only that had been with his fists. He was grateful now of the afternoons he’d spent sparring at sword-play with Ardan back in Port Needle.

  Balt returned with two wooden swords. Around them, men cast curious looks as they moved about the barracks, readying themselves for tomorrow’s early start.

  “Make this quick,” Captain Garick ordered, passing Dain his weapon. “First man to yield loses.”

  They cleared a space for them in the center of the yard. Balt began to circle Dain, still scowling. Dain copied the soldier’s stance—feet apart at shoulder width, posture straight, and body relaxed. He held the sword with both hands—elbows bent and arms close to the body—in front of him and toward his opponent’s throat.

  The soldier came at him suddenly, swooping in with a quick, vicious cut. He moved fast for such a big man. However, Dain was quicker. He blocked the wooden blade and deftly side-stepped away as Balt attacked again.

  The clack of blades meeting echoed across the yard, and the sound of industry around them ceased. Dain sensed his opponent’s impatience, his anger that Dain was proving harder to beat than expected; an annoying mosquito that darted just out of reach.

  Dain kept a strong defense, managing to get in a few strikes of his own as he got used to Balt’s fighting style. Soon, they were both sweating and Balt was glaring at him. Dain grinned back.

  “Annoying little shit,” he growled. “Grin at me like that again, and I’ll smash your teeth down your throat.”

  Dain’s grin widened. Suddenly, he was back in The Barnacle, facing down a huge sailor who’d just realized he’d met his match. Wildness flared within him. It was as if he stepped out of his own body. He felt a complete absence of fear—the sensation was exhilarating, and dangerous. Still, he knew that Balt was the better swordsman. Dain could play with him a while longer, but in the end Balt would win.

  “What’s wrong?” he taunted. “Am I embarrassing you?”

  Balt snarled at him and swung at his head with the sword. That was his mistake. Dain ducked and brought his own sword round low. The wooden blade slammed into the backs of the soldier’s ankles.

  The big man howled, staggered and lunged toward him, but Dain was ready. He ducked under Balt’s guard and brought up his fist in an uppercut, punching him hard in the jaw.

  The soldier reeled back, lost his footing and sprawled. Taking his chance, Dain kicked away the sword and pointed his at Balt’s throat. “Do you yield?”

  Balt glowered up at him, his eyes tearing with pain as he clutched his jaw.

  “Do you yield?”

  The soldier nodded.

  Dain stepped back and glanced at Captain Garick. The blond man was watching him intently, his gaze narrowed. “That was a dirty move.”

  Dain shrugged. “You didn’t say it had to be a fair fight.”

  The captain raised an eyebrow and sauntered over to him.

  “Where did you learn to use your fists?”

  Dain held his gaze. “Does it matter?”

  The captain’s mouth quirked. “I suppose not. You can handle yourself—that’s all that counts.”

  Dain smiled back at him. “So I can join you?”

  The captain watched him for a moment longer before nodding. “My men will kit you out and give you a sword.” Garick shifted his attention to Balt who had struggled to his feet, still clutching his jaw. “Go to the infirmary and get that seen to.”

  35

  Stowaways

  Night’s dark curtain slid over the Royal City of Rithmar, bringing yet another grey, cold day to a close. Wood smoke laced the cool air, and fires burned bright along the city walls. A mist snaked in, rising up from the river below. Somewhere in the darkness, feral howls echoed down the night-cloaked valley.

  Lilia stood in her chamber, looking out over the glowing lower town, and shuddered at the eerie cries. Over the past few days she’d been safe from the shadow creatures that prowled the night. With everything that had happened, she’d almost forgotten them … almost.

  Her thoughts shifted from the dangers outside the city walls to those within it.

  I hope Dain hasn’t got himself into trouble.

  Their time together that morning had been far too short. Nonetheless, every moment of it was etched on her memory. Their coupling had been a revelation. For the first time she understood what other women whispered about—why folk lost their wits over lust. It was like being taken by an enchantment. Even now, she ached for him, the memory of their last kiss before parting outside the door to the House of Healing still burned upon her lips.

  A soft knock at her door made Lilia start. A moment later, Asher’s voice reached her. “Lilia—it’s time to go. Are you ready?”

  She was; she’d been ready for hours.

  Dressed for travelling, with her woolen cloak about her shoulders, a leather pack on her back, she had been unable to sit still since well before dusk. The sound of Asher’s voice brought relief, and a flood of nervousness.

  This was real.

  She slipped out of her room to find Asher waiting for her in the hallway. Dressed as usual, in a short, smoke-colored robe, with leggings and high boots, his white-blond hair flowing over his shoulders, he cut a striking figure. He looked tired though, the lines of his handsome face strained.

  His gaze travelled over her, taking in her clothing and pack. “Ready?”

  She nodded. “Let’s go.”

  She followed him down the network of deserted corridors back to the stairwell.

  “Where’s everyone?” she whispered.

  “At supper,” he answered. “It’ll take a bit longer tonight as Thrindul will be giving instructions for the days ahead.”

  “Won’t you be missed?”

  Asher cast her a wry look over his shoulder. “Thrindul knows I’ve got a lot to prepare for tomorrow.”

  They padded down to the first floor and made their way toward the stairwell that lay between the library and the storerooms. They were only a few yards away from the stairs when Asher suddenly stopped short. He ducked into an alcove, yanking Lilia in with him. She was just about to protest at his rough treatment when the scuff of footsteps on stone made her freeze.

  A few feet away, a figure—one of the girls who worked in the kitchen—emerged from the stairwell, and hurried past. She was small and blonde, and wore a grubby apron over a plain homespun dress. She carried a wooden tray under one arm.

  Lilia held her breath, willing
the girl not to look left. If she did, she would see them for sure. Fortunately, the kitchen-hand appeared to be in a hurry this eve, for she didn’t cast a gaze left or right, and disappeared from sight.

  Asher exhaled sharply, before he released Lilia. “I thought they brought Ryana supper earlier than this—they must be running late tonight.”

  Heart pounding, Lilia stepped out of the alcove and followed him to the stairwell. Then, without another word between them, they descended into the Vault. It was as Lilia had expected: cold, damp and poorly lit. She knew her friend had only been locked up in here a couple of days but pitied her anyway; such a place would sap you of the will to live in no time at all.

  Ryana was asleep, curled up under her cloak on the damp stone ledge, when they reached her cell. A piece of hard bread and cheese sat just inside the door, next to a cup of what smelled like broth. It looked like the girl had just shoved the items through the bars and run.

  “Ryana,” Lilia whispered. “Wake up!”

  The figure under the cloak stirred and a pale face peeked out. “Lilia,” she croaked. “What are you doing down here?”

  “Rescuing you.”

  Ryana sat up, blinking. Then her gaze flicked to Asher. “You are?”

  Asher cleared his throat. “Looks like it.”

  Lilia glanced up at the man standing at her side. He was watching Ryana, his expression shuttered.

  “How are you going to get her out?” Lilia asked him. “Can you gather the Light to melt the bars?”

  His gaze flicked to her, and he shook his head. “These bars are felonite, not iron—neither the Light nor the Dark can bend them.” He produced a ring of keys from inside his robe. “Luckily I know where Thrindul keeps his keys. We’ll get her out the old-fashioned way.”

  Asher selected a key and slipped it into the lock. The clunk of it releasing sounded obscenely loud in the breathless silence of the Vault. Meanwhile, Ryana had risen to her feet and scooped up the bread and cheese, stuffing it inside a pocket in her cloak.

  “What’s the plan?” she asked. Her voice had a slight rasp to it, as if she had been crying, and her tone was flat. Lilia could see the Vault had started to affect her already.

  “It’ll take too long to explain,” Asher replied, throwing the door open so Ryana could exit. “You’ll just have to trust us.”

  “Where’s Dain?”

  “He’s joined the King’s Guard,” Lilia replied, her belly twisting nervously as she said these words. “He thinks he’ll be more help to us that way.”

  Ryana stopped, her gaze spearing Lilia. “How would that help us?”

  A few feet away, Asher made an impatient sound. “Come on, both of you. We need to move. I can’t stay away for long—I’ll be missed.”

  “Lilia?” Ryana asked, ignoring him. “What are you up to?”

  Lilia swallowed, and cast a nervous glance in Asher’s direction. “She doesn’t know about the stone, does she?”

  He shook his head.

  Ryana put her hands on her hips, her gaze narrowing. “What about the stone? I thought Saul failed …”

  “Ryana,” Asher hissed. “There isn’t time—Lilia will explain everything to you later.”

  “No.” Ryana stared both of them down. “She’ll explain now.”

  A thick, dank mist curled through the streets of the upper city, obscuring the towering palace above. The glow of torchlight illuminated the fog in places, but in the darker recesses of the capital, where pitch torches and oil lamps did not burn, the mist swallowed everything.

  Asher, Ryana and Lilia slipped out of the House of Light and Darkness and turned right up The King’s Way.

  Despite the darkness and the mist, sounds of industry echoed around them: the shouts of men drifting down from the barracks above, the rumble of wagon wheels, and the clang and hiss of the smith’s forge. Lilia imagined few would sleep tonight as they pushed to ready the army for the dawn.

  Folk thronged the streets. Soldiers carried supplies and weapons down the hill to where the bulk of the King’s Guard were now rallying. Crowds milled under the orange glow of street lamps, their voices laced with panic as they discussed the army’s departure. With a warlord to the south and the threat of an ancient evil being unleashed to the north, there was plenty to worry them.

  Head down, cloak pulled close, Lilia marched up the hill, hurrying to keep up with Asher and Ryana’s longer strides.

  Asher led them up to a great, sloping square at the foot of the palace gates. This morning, when Lilia had followed the others up to see the king, this square had been an empty expanse of cobbles—now it teemed with wagons, horses and men.

  The mist was their ally here, for it snaked amongst the crowd and hung low over the tops of the wagons, making it easy to slip through their midst unseen. Nevertheless, the three of them kept their hoods up, hiding their faces from view.

  Asher crossed the square, to where a line of supply wagons sat, ready to be shackled up to horses. Servants were still filling the wagons nearest the gates, loading them up with sacks of grain, wheels of cheese, salted meat, and barrels of wine—which would be watered down when rationed out to the men. However, the wagons at the head of the line had already been filled and were ready for departure.

  “Ryana,” Asher murmured, as they drew near to a wagon covered by a blue tarpaulin. “A bit more mist right now would be helpful.”

  Ryana didn’t answer, but a moment later, Lilia saw a pale hand emerge from the woman’s cloak as she surreptitiously gathered the Dark. Lilia heard the faint whisper of the shadows awaking around them and then the fog drew in, shrouding them.

  The muttering of men’s voices just beyond, echoed through the mist. “Bollocks—can’t see a foot in front of my face.”

  “Hurry,” Ryana whispered. “It’ll not last long.”

  Asher led them round the back of the wagon, and deftly unlaced one of the ties. “I checked this one earlier,” he whispered, pulling back the edge to reveal a narrow space between two stacks of wooden crates. Straw covered the wagon’s wooden floor. “Sorry, it’s a bit cramped, but it’s the best I could do at short notice.”

  Lilia turned and threw her arms around him, giving Asher a quick, hard hug. “Thank you—I’ll never forget this.”

  She felt his body stiffen, as if he was unused to being embraced, before he gave her a hug back. When he spoke, his voice was gruff. “Go on, get in.”

  Releasing him, Lilia scrambled up onto the wagon and climbed to the back so that her companion would have space.

  Ryana turned to Asher, her face still shadowed by her hood. “Thank you.”

  He made an impatient noise. “Save your thanks for later, if we all live through this—hurry up, climb in.”

  Ryana ducked her head before complying. She climbed up and folded her long legs in front of her before turning to him. “You’re not going to just leave us in here, are you?”

  “Dain or I will bring you food and let you out when the army stops at noon,” he replied. “I’ll do my best to get you out after dark—if I have my own tent, you can sleep there at night.”

  Lilia threw him a grateful smile; like Ryana the thought of being trapped in here for the entire journey made panic rise. She hadn’t given much thought to this part of her plan.

  “Rest,” Asher told them gently. “While you can.”

  With that, he drew the tarpaulin closed.

  Lilia listened to the muffled sound of him retying it, before she heard him move away from the wagon, leaving her and Ryana inside.

  There were gaps in the tarpaulin, which allowed the faint glow of torchlight and damp air to enter. Lilia was grateful for it; despite her newfound resolve she would never be fond of the darkness.

  The two women sat in silence for a while, each trying to get comfortable in their new, cramped lodgings. Lilia was hesitant to make conversation with Ryana, as her reaction back in the Vault hadn’t been what Lilia had expected. She’d thought Ryana would be grateful and eag
er to help—instead she’d been angry.

  Incensed that the stone had been stolen.

  Incredulous that Lilia was going after it.

  Lilia thought it best to let the matter lie between them; to give Ryana a chance to come to terms with what had happened. Feeling her stomach growl, she reached into her pack for some food.

  “Do you want something to eat?” she asked. “I managed to get some bread, cheese, apples and treacle cake, which keeps well.”

  “I’ve some food of my own,” Ryana replied, her voice clipped. “Thank you.”

  Lilia swallowed a sigh. In such a cramped space, she didn’t look forward to enduring more of Ryana’s wintry anger.

  Silence fell once more and Lilia ate her supper, listening to the rumble of industry in the square outside. After the day’s excitement she felt exhausted, and knew she wouldn’t have any trouble sleeping tonight.

  “This is madness.” Ryana eventually spoke. Unlike earlier, her voice was subdued, resigned. “You’re getting into something that’s too big for you—too big for us.”

  Lilia listened before brushing crumbs off her knees. She was too tired to dispute the point, especially since Ryana was most likely right.

  “I know it’s a lot to ask,” Lilia said finally, “and if you don’t want to be part of this, I’ll understand.” She turned, straining to make out the lines of Ryana’s face in the darkness. “You can go now—slip out of the city. Everyone’s distracted, they won’t see you leave.”

  Ryana huffed. “And go where? I’m tired of running.”

  “Then it looks like you’re with us.”

  Only silence answered her.

  King Nathan’s army moved out with the dawn. The wagon lurched forward, jolting Lilia out of a deep, surprisingly restful sleep. A heartbeat later, the trill of horns echoed across the city—calling the king’s army to war.

  Goose-bumps prickled Lilia’s skin. If the fact they were heading into danger hadn’t been clear to her before, it certainly was now. The horns were loud, echoing off the surrounding stone walls, the mountain behind them and the steep sides of the valley below. There wasn’t one soul in The Royal City of Rithmar who wouldn’t have heard it.