Journey of Shadows (The Palâdnith Chronicles Book 1)

by Sam J. Charlton

  Content, Eni leaned back against the cave wall and stretched his legs in front of him. The darkness inside the cave was impenetrable. He could hear Irwyn shifting position and giving the odd snort. Avalon spoke to the donkey sometimes, her voice a low whisper.

  She was an odd girl, Eni decided. He wondered in what circumstances a parent or a husband would allow her to travel across Palâdnith with only a donkey for company. Still, without her help he would still be climbing the foothills, dehydrated and starving. She had shared her food with a stranger, and a grumpy one at that. He would not have been so generous. Once again, Eni was humbled by the kindness of strangers.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Travellers on the Spine Road

  They trekked deep into the mountains. The Spine Road led them on a tortuous, steep climb. The way became progressively narrower and more difficult to travel, while the air grew colder and drier. Below, the undulating bed of red tussock-lands spread south, eventually merging with the hazy horizon. Civilisation lay that way but they were travelling further and further from it – into the wilderness where no one would come after them if they failed to re-emerge.

  Val hunched down in his cloak as he rode, trailing behind Captain Tobin and Lady Cirinna. The sound of their voices as they discussed the events of the night before, were the only sounds on this lonely road. As if sensing its rider’s mood, the roan plodded forward in a lacklustre manner.

  On the first night on the Spine Road, the companions camped by the roadside, huddled around a fire. A cold wind sprang up, howling down the passes and rock faces like a lonely spirit. Their backs to the wind, the travellers dined on the lean carcasses of three rabbits Tobin had caught and roasted on a spit.

  Val noted that since her heroic acts last night, Lord Kaur’s daughter had lost much of her aura of helplessness. She sat straighter and no longer appeared detached from her surroundings. This eve, she sat close to the flickering fire. Its light played across her face as she occasionally glanced out into the darkness. Last night's memory was too raw to allow any of them to relax. Even though she was obviously hungry after a day's travel, Lady Cirinna picked delicately at her rabbit carcass, while Val and Tobin gnawed at theirs.

  Wiping his greasy hands on his cloak and throwing the rabbit bones into the fire, Tobin turned his attention to the others. Val felt the captain's assessing stare bore into him but he refused to meet his gaze. Eventually, Tobin wearied of staring Val down and addressed him directly.

  “If you're a Sentorân then I'm a harlet,” Tobin sneered. “Let me ask you again – why does that fiend hunt you?”

  Val did not reply. The remnants of the rabbit turned to ash in his mouth and he tossed the carcass into the fire.

  “Captain, what was it that attacked us last night?” Lady Cirinna interrupted, drawing the captain’s focus away from Val.

  Tobin shrugged, his heavy brow creased in thought.

  “No idea,” he admitted before turning his attention back to Val, “I’m still waiting Falkyn.”

  “I thought you weren’t interested in knowing anything about me?”

  Val could not help remind Tobin of his words back in the Red Tussock. The captain leaned towards him threateningly.

  “Answer me!”

  “There’s nothing to tell. I have lived a quiet, solitary life. I grew up the eldest son of the Marshal of Barrowthorne in Central Omagen. My two younger brothers and I had a privileged childhood, but none of us possess powers beyond the ordinary.”

  “What about your parents?” Lady Cirinna asked.

  Val frowned. He usually avoided thinking about Hath and Belythna Falkyn and had a strange reluctance to do so now.

  “I don't see why you need to know about my parents.”

  “Answer the question,” Tobin growled, “before I make you.”

  A hot tide of anger suddenly washed over Val. When he replied, Val addressed Lady Cirinna rather than Tobin.

  “My mother disappeared when I was very young so I know little of her. My father never remarried. After my mother’s disappearance, I saw little of him. He had no time for his sons and was always away hunting, whoring or ensuring his land was secure and taxes collected. He is one of the realmlord's favourite marshals. He has devoted his life to keeping his corner of the world under tight control. As soon as my brothers and I were old enough we left. I know not of the others, but I have never been back since. I don’t even know if my father still lives.”

  “Your mother disappeared?” Lady Cirinna pressed. “No trace of her was ever found?”

  “My father never spoke of it. All I know is she wandered off into the wilderness one eve, while my father was away on a hunting trip, and disappeared.”

  “You must know something of her history?” Tobin insisted.

  Val shook his head. “Nothing – and I think your line of questioning has reached its end. You won't find the answers with my family.”

  Tobin glowered at Val and would have pushed further if Lady Cirinna had not intervened.

  “Well, since we're no closer to discovering the truth, I suggest we rest. The mountains do not welcome our presence here. It’s better if we quieten our voices.”

  Tobin's face darkened and his mouth pursed. He did not take kindly to being told what to do, especially by a woman. Nonetheless, he heeded her words and held his tongue. Lady Cirinna had alerted them to the lonely cry of the wind. Val had never heard wind make such a sound. There were times when he thought he heard voices and screams through the howling. He wished they could have found shelter in a cave, or at least against some boulders. They were too exposed here on the face of the mountain. Out there in the darkness, hopefully still licking his wounds, lurked Val’s hunter.

  “The Malwagen inhabit these mountains,” he told the others. “Are we going to be safe out here?”

  Tobin frowned, as if Val was openly criticising his decision to make camp on the exposed mountainside.

  “There’s supposed to be a small colony somewhere in the High Dragon Spines but they haven’t been seen for years,” the captain replied.

  “Malwagen?” Lady Cirinna’s brow furrowed. “I thought they were just a myth.”

  “No, I’m afraid not,” Val answered, remembering the book about magic he had picked up the day before his departure – he had gleaned a few interesting facts from it. “Although they have little to do with the world of men, there are numerous historical records about the Malwagen over the centuries. The main colony is in the Rock and Pillar Range – the seat of the Malwagen King. Besides these mountains, there is also supposed to be another good-sized settlement in the Starwalden Alps.”

  Lady Cirinna glanced across at Tobin, her frown deepening.

  “Captain?”

  “My Lady,” Tobin’s mouth twisted. “There are few safe places on the Spine Road. It’s better to sleep out here, where we can see our enemies approaching, than to hide away in some cave like cowards.”

  Tobin’s cold gaze raked over Val then.

  “Such places could end up being an entrance to a Malwagen tunnel, or worse.”

  Tobin let his words hang in the air, signalling that the evening’s conversation had concluded. Lady Cirinna turned her back on both her companions and curled into a ball under her cloak, while Val wrapped himself in his own cloak and lay on his side next to the fire. Tobin took the first watch.

  The wind whipped around Val in invisible tongues of ice, snipping and tugging at his clothes and hair. The ground was hard and stony. Jagged rocks dug into his flesh and Val wondered if he would ever be able to sleep in such a place.

  It would be a long, cold night.

  Val awoke in the gray light of dawn to find mist wreathing around their campsite. The fire had long since died, as had the wind. The silence was unnerving.

  Tobin was huddled, snoring, under his cloak while Lady Cirinna sat staring blearily into the shadows. She had taken the last watch, after Val’s shift. He had not wanted to wake her from a deep sleep, but it had meant he w
as able to finally get some rest.

  Val stood up and stretched his cold, stiff limbs. The three horses stamped their feet and tossed their heads, demanding to be freed from their hobbles. There was little feed for them up here. What grass there was had been burnt to stubble by wind and ice, and Tobin was rationing the oats. What the horses needed was hay to keep them warm but there was none to be found up in the High Dragon Spines. As such, the horses' sides were hollowed and their eyes glassy with hunger this morning. Stroking his roan's furry neck, Val felt a pang of guilt. He hoped the horses would not suffer too greatly before they reached the other-side of the Dragon Spines.

  Once Tobin awoke, the companions packed up and continued on their way. The climb was steep and the Spine Road, if it could be called a road, was crumbling and rocky. The horses gingerly picked their way up, their ears flattened back and their heads low. Eventually, they came across patches of snow on the road. During the winter, the Spine Road was impassable; carpeted under a crust of snow for three months of the year. They had arrived just after the spring thaw but the weather in the mountains was unpredictable at best and most travellers never attempted to cross the High Dragon Spines until mid-summer. The road's highest point was the Spine Pass. Val wondered how much longer they would have to travel before reaching it.

  This morning, dank mist shrouded the mountain. It prevented sunlight from warming the three weary travellers. It was impossible to know what time of day it was or how long they had been riding.

  Val slumped in the saddle and tried to prevent his mind from wandering. There were so many things that he would have preferred not to think about. It might have been a bit dull at times, but Val had liked his life before this trip. Now, he had been catapulted into a nightmare of events that would have tested even the bravest of men. All he wanted was to be back in his library surrounded by his books, safe from the rest of the world.

  Val was so immersed in his introspection that he lost all sense of where he was, or what the road ahead held. After a while he looked up from his brooding and felt a jolt of alarm.

  He was alone.

  Before this journey had deteriorated into a flight from mortal danger, Val would have delighted at being rid of his companions. However, here on a desolate road surrounded by mist, the realisation he was alone frightened him. He pulled his horse to an abrupt halt and stood up on his stirrups, peering into the fog.

  “Tobin!” he shouted. “Lady Cirinna!”

  His voice disappeared into the mist and did not carry as he had expected. He called his companions' names again, his voice now shrill. His cries were met with silence.

  Val urged his horse on, causing the roan to give a grunt of protest at being hurried along the rough path. He shouted his companions' names a few more times but stopped when his voice caught with panic.

  Was it his imagination, or was the mist swirling closer?

  Was that whispering he could hear?

  Val’s skin prickled. He was struck by a strong intuition he was no longer alone.

  Someone, or something, was watching him.

  Val kicked the roan forward. The poor beast snorted, tossed its head, and doggedly obeyed. It broke into a stumbling canter. Under normal circumstances, Val would have felt cruel for sending the horse careening blindly forward, but now his only thought was to distance himself from this place and rejoin the others.

  They had travelled only a few yards further along the road when the roan stumbled.

  The horse fell to its knees, catapulting Val through the air.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bruin’s Guests

  The sound of a key grating in the lock brought Seth out of a fitful doze. He groaned – his stomach was throbbing in hunger and his body ached from the cold and damp. Seth glanced over at his cell-mate. Nevis was awake. She sat with her back against the wall, staring at the occupants of the adjacent cell.

  Behind a row of iron bars, which separated the two sets of prisoners, sat the two Esquill. Edessa and Lethian were also awake. Like Seth and Nevis, they both looked a bit worse for wear. They had pinched faces and their fine emerald gowns were dusty and torn.

  Seth had lost all count of the long hours – it felt like days – they had been locked up here. The past and the future had both faded to oblivion. It was a claustrophobic cell with a ceiling so low that they all had to bend double when standing. Seth had never liked enclosed spaces. At first, he had felt as if the ceiling was closing in on him. He could only bend double and wait for the panic to pass. As the hours slid by, the sensation had subsided, to be replaced by the gnawing fear that the Malwagen had left them here to die. Water dripped in through a small tap in the wall, collecting on a clay saucer but no food had been brought to them. The privy was nothing more than a deep narrow fissure in the far corner of the cell; although with no food they rarely used it.

  The four of them had long since stopped speaking; although there had been plenty of heated words when the Esquill discovered Seth and Nevis in the next cell. Seth’s ears still stung from Edessa’s accusations.

  Fools! Why did you go into that valley? You’ve brought doom upon us all.

  It appeared that the Esquill had tracked Seth and Nevis through the Rock and Pillars and followed them into the valley. They never had a chance to catch up with their quarry, for shortly after entering the valley, the Malwagen attacked them. The Esquill had attempted to fight their way free, only to find their sorcerer fire failed them in their need. The Valley of the Tors – for that was the place they had stumbled into – had stripped them of their powers.

  After the Malwagen had surrounded Seth and Nevis, the sprites begun to pinch and prod them. Seth’s skin still crawled at the memory of their cold, clawing fingers. Nevis had attempted to cast a protection spell but, like the Esquill, she discovered that she had lost her powers. The sprites had moved so quickly that Seth had not been able to defend himself. For the second time in as many days, someone clubbed him on the back of the head. He had woken a long time later, with a pounding headache, in this suffocating cave.

  At the sound of the key in the door, Seth struggled to sit up. His head spun with the effort and he breathed in deeply to steady himself. He watched the door swing inwards and raised his hands to protect his eyes when torchlight flooded into the cell.

  A slender figure with leathery, membraned wings stood in the doorway with a halo of light behind him. As Seth’s eyes adjusted, he was able to witness properly for the first time, a member of the mythical Malwagen.

  Tall and lithe with long, finely muscled limbs, this individual made humans appear cumbersome and heavy in comparison. He was a young male with aquiline features, a haughty expression, and flowing hair the colour of moonlight. He was dressed in form-fitting leather trousers and a waistcoat. Supple boots covered his feet and muscular calves.

  “The king will see you now.”

  For all his beauty, this creature’s voice was chilling. He spoke their tongue with a low, sing-song, lilt.

  Obedient, for hunger and cold had rendered them docile, Seth and Nevis staggered out into a low corridor. Nevis appeared unsteady on her feet, and Seth put his hand out to stop her from collapsing against the wall.

  “Are you well?” he whispered.

  She nodded and gave him a weak smile. “Just hungry.”

  The Malwagen then opened the door to the Esquill’s cell. Moments later, Edessa and Lethian emerged.

  They were indeed inside an underground prison for the corridor, like the cell, was carved out of the rock. Stalactites hung down from the ceiling and Seth had to bend low to avoid smacking his head on one. The corridor sloped sharply upwards and the air grew gradually fresher as they ascended. At the top was a steep set of steps that led to the surface.

  Seth stepped out into a lofty hallway and straightened up to his full height for the first time in days. A high, vaulted ceiling rose above him and rows of white marble colonnades stretched to his right and left.

  The surroundings were so beauti
ful that Seth could only stand and gape. It made the confines of Larnoth castle, or indeed Osforth Tower, appear depressing tombs. Sunlight filtered in from high windows and pooled like molten gold on polished marble tiles. The air was warm and soft with the faint perfume of honey-suckle.

  “Incredible.” Nevis whispered, mesmerised.

  “Follow me.”

  The Malwagen set off down the hallway and his four captives mutely obeyed. Seth and Nevis trailed behind the Esquill, gazing around as they walked. Outside, beyond the high windows, Seth caught glimpses of blue sky.

  “How long have we been here?” he whispered to Nevis.

  “I know not,” she murmured. “Time seems to have lost any meaning here. The seasons of the world do not appear to touch it.”

  In fact, Seth had noted that they had neither suffered from heat nor cold inside their cave cell – and the temperature inside the hallway was pleasant; far warmer than the crisp spring weather outside.

  The Malwagen led them down a colonnaded hall and up a set of marble steps. Here, he knocked on heavy oak doors and waited. Moments later, the doors drew apart and the Malwagen led the way into a vast banquet hall.

  Feasting Malwagen filled the room.

  The noise was deafening. There were at least a hundred of them sitting elbow-to-elbow at long banquet tables. Young, old, male and female – all of them dined together. They ate with voracious, animal hunger and gulped wine from pewter goblets as if it were water. Platters of roast pigeon and rabbit, steaming tureens of stew and plates of breads studded with seeds and nuts covered every table. The Malwagen skewered their food with sharp daggers, as if they were hunting it.