by Shannah Jay
When the lord and lady were away, no one cared what she did or where she went as long as she was present for the morning and evening meals.
She walked slowly up the rocky hillside behind the house, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her shoulders and the gentle breeze in her hair. This was her favourite place.
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The garden walls ended at the cliff edge. No need for Lord Beffris to set guards or build walls up here.
The single path led only to the flattened peak of land that jutted out over the valley.
Other folk stayed away from this rocky outcrop, but Shayla didn’t care what they said. Ghosts couldn’t be half as bad as Lady Alvyna in a rage or Lord Beffris’s quiet malice. Anyway, she’d been coming here for years and never seen a ghost. The only sounds she’d ever heard up here were perfectly natural ones, the wind blowing, an insect humming or birds singing.
She went to stand on the big black rock near the top. She loved the way the clouds and sun were mirrored in its shiny surface, the way it always felt warm to the touch.
She whistled and within a few minutes the dog arrived and came bounding up to her, grinning and wagging her plumy golden tail. Shayla put her arms round Hallie’s neck and buried her face in the soft fur. ‘Oh, I’ve missed you these past few days. But I couldn’t get out to see you because they were here.’
A rough tongue licked her nose then the dog raised her head and began to howl—loud, unearthly shrieks that hurt the ears. Shayla winced and tried to pull away, but couldn’t.
As the sounds grew louder they beat into a wild rhythm which twisted around her like a net of sound.
She was unable to move a muscle and yet she wasn’t afraid. How could anything bad happen to her with Hallie beside her?
Black cloud piled upon black cloud until the sky grew as dark as midnight. Thunder rolled across the hills, lightning stabbed down towards the valley and the ground shook beneath her. Shayla cried out in shock as she felt herself slipping then falling down and down.
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3 RONAN
Ronan scowled at his elder brother. ‘Do it yourself! It’s your responsibility to clean your armour. You’re not a knight yet and I’m not your squire.’
Garrill smiled, not a nice smile. ‘You will do it, brat! Because if you don’t, I’ll make you very, very sorry.’
Ronan drew in a deep breath and debated whether to defy Garrill. No, not yet. Not till he was older.
Although he was the taller of the two now, he was very thin and had grown so much lately he seemed not to know his own body, couldn’t even walk without tripping let alone fight someone. At fourteen, he had a boy’s muscles still, with no real strength in them.
Garrill, on the other hand, was seventeen and almost a man, strongly built and an expert at making trouble for others. You didn’t cross him if you could help it. The servants were absolutely terrified of him and Ronan took great care not to anger his brother. After all, what was the point in starting a battle you couldn’t hope to win?
So he shut his mouth on a protest, bent his head and picked up the breastplate that had been tossed at his feet.
Garrill sniggered. ‘Make sure it’s well polished, you crawling louse. If I find one speck of rust on that steel, I’ll beat you till you can’t sit down.’
By taking a very deep breath, Ronan managed not to answer back. He watched his brother stride off with that confident air he always envied. No wonder Garrill was confident. He was their parents’
favourite. He had all the love and attention from them and even during their rare stays at the castle, they barely spoke to their younger son.
Although Lord Nezrim had laid claim to this new shadow world just before Ronan was born, he and his wife spent most of their time at the royal palace in Azaray, favourites of King Sevris.
When people assembled in the hall for the mid-day meal, Ronan was late. As he came hurrying in, Nezrim scowled at him. ‘Can you not even manage to be punctual, you dolt? I swear you get uglier each time I see you.’
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Ronan couldn’t help flushing at this greeting, delivered loudly enough for everyone to hear.
‘You look as untidy as a bear,’ his lady mother grumbled. ‘Go to your room. I can’t bear to see you looking like that.’ She turned to smile at Garrill and say something in a tinkly, laughing voice.
Ronan swung round and left the hall, trying not to let anyone see how much this treatment hurt. What had he done wrong now? He couldn’t think of anything.
In the corridor outside he bumped into Tevis, the swordmaster. ‘I’ve been sent out of her sight again.’
Anger at the injustice still throbbed through him.
‘Then you can come and eat your meal peacefully with me in the guard house,’ Tevis said with one of his quiet smiles. ‘It’ll be deserted at this hour.’
They turned and walked across the castle yard together.
‘Why do they treat me like this?’ Ronan asked for the hundredth time.
‘Because they know no better.’ Tevis laid a hand on the lad’s shoulder. ‘It won’t go on for ever, I promise you. When you’re old enough, things will change.’
‘You always say that, but I don’t think I can bear much more of this treatment. I’d do better to run away.’
Tevis sighed. ‘You’d do better to stay. Nezrim only comes here occasionally to check this new land he’s claimed. He’ll go back to the palace in Azaray soon, frittering away his time in attendance on the King.’
‘Sevris the Cruel,’ Ronan muttered. Even here they’d heard of the king’s vicious behaviour and greed for gold.
Tevis nodded. ‘He is, indeed, a cruel man. Not worthy to be king.’
Ronan followed Tevis into the empty guard room, served himself with a platter of lukewarm stew and a hunk of rough bread from the remains of the guards’ meal, and followed his mentor into a smaller chamber where they wouldn’t be noticed. ‘What are the other worlds like?’ he asked wistfully as he began to eat. ‘You never tell me about them. You only talk about Azaray.’
‘Because it’s the oldest in this ring of worlds, the heart of everything. It’s there that your future lies, lad, not here or on one of the other new worlds.’
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‘Not if my family is living in Azaray, it doesn’t. They keep me too well guarded here.’ He ate another mouthful then sighed. ‘I don’t know why people want to be kings. It seems to me some men are wicked and greedy, and just want to boss others about. I’d never want to be a king.’
‘This talk is foolish,’ Tevis said severely. ‘Let us discuss swordplay instead. That has more practical use for you and you have a natural aptitude for weapons. Once you grow into your height, we’ll get you a man’s sword.’
Ronan ate the last of the stew. ‘You’re risking your life teaching me. We both know that. Why do you do it? If it becomes known, my father will have you killed for disobeying his strict orders.’
‘I do it because I have a passion for justice and a fondness for you, lad. Two excellent reasons.’
‘That still doesn’t explain anything.’
‘All will become clear to you one day.’
Ronan sighed and let Tevis lead the conversation back to fighting. He found the discussion of strategy interesting, as always, and soon forgot his misery in discussing old battles and how exactly they’d been won.
He left before the change of guards because he still had to finish burnishing Garrill’s breastplate. As he walked to the arms workshop, he wondered once again why his parents had forbidden him even to touch a sword. It wasn’t true that a younger son didn’t need to know how to fight. Sometimes older sons were killed and then younger ones inherited.
His parents hadn’t given him much education, either, but Tevis and Nella had introduced him to the castle library and encouraged him to educate himself. He now knew far more than Garrill about the history of Azaray, which h
e found fascinating.
Until Sevris became king following the murder of his brother Ronan, the royal family had ruled wisely and done well for their people. In those days they’d had a magic sword to guide them.
No one knew what had happened to that sword, which had vanished when Ronan died.
Rumour said that Pavros had destroyed the sword, which seemed the most likely explanation. He was the most powerful wizard who had ever lived and even Nezrim spoke respectfully of him.
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When Ronan had the breastplate gleaming brightly, he heard a noise at the castle gates and glanced out of the window. A royal messenger from Azaray was just riding in, clad in the dark green and gold livery.
What now? he wondered. His parents and brother had only arrived here two days ago. What message could possibly be so urgent that someone would ride a poor horse to exhaustion to get here?
Within minutes, servants began scurrying about and Garrill came seeking his breastplate. He snatched it up without a word of thanks.
‘What’s happening?’
‘We’ve had a message from the king. We’re to leave today.’ He looked scornfully at Ronan. ‘Not you, of course. You’re too stupid ever to go to Azaray. You’d only embarrass the family. So you can stay here with the other thick-brained country bumpkins.’
An hour later the family left without a word of farewell. Ronan watched them go from the narrow window slit of his chilly bedchamber in the west tower. At least now the castle would be peaceful for a while.
***
When the last sound of hooves had faded away into the distance, Ronan decided to get a breath of fresh air. He ran quickly down the twisting stone staircase and left the castle through the small servants’ gate at the rear. Making his way up the rocky hillside, he went to sit in his favourite place on the big black rock.
He clasped his arms round his knees, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his shoulders and the knowledge that no one was going to shout at him for a while.
Within a few minutes the dog arrived, as she sometimes did. He didn’t know where she lived, was just happy to see her. She came up to him, grinning and wagging her tail as usual. He put his arms round her neck and buried his face in the soft red-gold fur.
He’d called her Hallie, because it seemed the right name, somehow, but he’d never dared take her back to the castle. If he had done, Garrill would have poisoned her, as he had once poisoned a kitten Ronan had made a pet of.
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As he touched Hallie this time, though, she stiffened and began to howl like a soul in torment. Before he could open his mouth to ask what was wrong, there was a wrenching, tearing feeling and the world turned black around him. He cried out in fear and clung to the dog.
Thunder crashed through the sudden darkness and lightning stabbed across the valley. Ronan felt his senses whirling, but was comforted by a lick on his cheek. Suddenly he began to fall, tumbling head over heels into a gaping hole where no hole should have been.
Although he fought against whatever power had seized him, trying desperately to hold on to his senses, it was to no avail. He was whirled round and round till he could feel consciousness slipping away.
His last thought was to wonder if he had somehow stumbled over the cliff and was crashing down to his death. Then the darkness swallowed him up.
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4 THREE IN ONE
Kerril knew nothing more until he awoke, head spinning. He groaned and flung out one arm, touching something furry and warm. Thinking it was the dog, he opened his eyes, then gasped in shock to find himself holding someone’s hair. A stranger’s hair. A girl’s hair!
He pulled his hand back and sat up in a hurry. She was lying by his side, her eyes closed, her long auburn hair tumbled around her, and she was breathing slowly and deeply as if she was asleep.
Beyond her lay another figure, a boy. He, too, had auburn hair and he looked so like Kerril it was like looking in a mirror, though the other boy was bigger than him.
Kerril’s eyes flickered back to the girl. He didn’t want to admit it, but she, too, resembled him. For a moment, fear ran through him. Had a wizard captured him? Where was he? Who were these two?
The girl opened her eyes suddenly, sucked in her breath in surprise at the sight of him and sat up with a jerk. That disturbed the bigger boy and he muttered something in his sleep, then yawned and began to rub his eyes.
‘Who are you? Where are we?’ the girl asked, staring around with wide frightened eyes as if she expected to see demons creeping up on them.
‘I don’t know where we are. I’m Kerril. Who are you?’
‘Shayla. And who’s he?’ She indicated the other boy.
‘I thought he was with you.’
She shook her head, looked from one to the other and scowled. ‘He must be with you. He looks just like you.’
‘Well, I can’t help that. Anyway, he looks like you, too.’
At that moment, the other boy opened his eyes fully, stared at his companions and yelped in shock.
‘Who are you? What have you done to me?’
When he looked around, he let out another exclamation. ‘And where have you brought me?’
That made Kerril stare round more carefully. They were all on the big black rock, which was comforting, but when he looked down into the valley, he saw it wasn’t his valley. This one contained a THE MAGIC SWORD Shannah Jay 18
pretty little village around which lay meadows carpeted with flowers of every shape, size and hue.
Butterflies hovered and swooped everywhere, giant butterflies, even more colourful than the flowers, and birds were flying to and fro among the trees.
He had always laughed at the servants’ tales of the ghosts, demons and spirits who were supposed to haunt the black rock, but now—well, he had to admit that something was very wrong with the world—if this was still the world he knew.
‘It looks like my rock,’ Shayla said, ‘but that’s not my valley.’
‘It’s not my valley either, but it’s beautiful,’ the other boy said. ‘I’m Ronan.’
‘Perhaps this is just a dream,’ Kerril said.
‘It doesn’t feel like a dream.’ Shayla looked at each of them. ‘And you look very real to me.’
There was a sound behind them and they all turned round quickly.
Hallie was standing there on the raised ground beyond the black rock, only she looked much larger than usual.
‘She’s different,’ Kerril whispered, ‘taller and—well, almost human.’
‘Humans aren’t covered in fur,’ Shayla said thoughtfully.
‘Stay close together,’ Ronan said. ‘This might be a trick.’ He stood his ground, listening carefully, trying to make sense of what was happening.
Hallie spoke in a voice that seemed to echo slightly. ‘This isn’t a trick and you’re quite safe here.
You’re in the True Vale, and you’re seeing me as I really am. It was safer for me to appear to you before as a dog. I apologise for that deception.’
‘How can you be sure we’re safe?’ Ronan asked.
‘Those who follow the path of evil can’t enter the True Vale but they’ll soon notice you’ve gone and start searching for you.’
She looked from one to the other. ‘Let me explain a little: you three are triplets, brothers and sister, born on the same day from the same mother.’
Ronan opened his mouth to protest that this wasn’t possible, then closed it again. Listen first, act later, Tevis always said.
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‘Your mother died bearing you,’ Hallie went on, ‘and a few months later you were stolen from your cradles one dark night by the men who had just murdered your father.’ She paused to let her words sink in. ‘These men placed you in the shadow worlds.’
Shayla let out a soft cry of pain.
Again it was Ronan who spoke, seeming to take the lead instinctively
. ‘Who were our parents?’
‘The former King and Queen of Azaray.’
‘That’s not possible!’ Kerril gasped.
‘It’s the simple truth,’ Hallie insisted.
Ronan looked at his brother and sister thoughtfully, then turned back to her. ‘Who killed the King of Azaray?’
‘The man who now holds the throne. Your uncle.’
‘King Sevris?’ Shayla whispered.
Hallie nodded. ‘He now rules Azaray, but you, Ronan, as elder son, should be king there, not him.’
King of Azaray! Ronan couldn’t believe this. Perhaps he was dreaming, after all.
‘It’s the simple truth,’ Hallie insisted in the same quiet voice.
‘But it can’t be!’ Kerril exclaimed. ‘I’m just a serving lad, not a prince.’
Shayla poked him in the side and hissed, ‘Shh! Let Hallie tell us the rest.’
‘Sevris had help in seizing the throne, mainly from Pavros, a wizard whom your father had banished from the kingdom. But other ambitious men helped too, like those who’ve guarded you three until now.’
‘Couldn’t your people have saved us?’ Ronan asked.
‘Time runs differently here in the True Vale and we sometimes lose touch with what is happening in your ring of worlds. We knew nothing of what was planned until the sword screamed for our help. We hadn’t realized Pavros was strong enough to overcome the magic of the sword, so we were, to our great sorrow, too late to save your father’s life. But we did manage to save you three.’
‘We’re very grateful,’ Shayla said. ‘How did you manage that?’
‘Pavros was weakened by casting such a mighty spell and by a long struggle with the magic sword. We were able to plant the idea in his mind that you three might be useful to him one day, that he might even THE MAGIC SWORD Shannah Jay 20
want to set one of you on the throne instead of Sevris—for no one can trust your uncle, not even a wizard.