by Jayne Castel
Lilia gave him a pained look before closing her fingers around the dagger’s bone handle. Hesitantly, she lifted her arm and stretched it before her, waving the blade at him.
Across the forge, the smith chortled. Lilia’s face flushed, but Dain said nothing. Instead, he stepped forward and easily caught her wrist.
“When you hold a knife like that, you make it easy for me to grab your arm,” he explained. “You have no reach with a dagger.” He kept his fingers fastened around her wrist and pushed her hand down so it was level with his belly, before pushing her arm back against her torso. “Keep the blade low and close to your body. If someone attacks you, let them get close before you stab upward.”
Dain moved forward, guiding her hand so that the tip of the blade touched just below his rib cage. They stood close now, so close he could smell the warm sweetness of her skin and the faint perfume of rosemary and sea-salt from her hair. She was around a hand-span shorter than him and so had to raise her chin only slightly to meet his gaze. Her eyes were the color of Farras mahogany, her full lips slightly parted.
His breathing quickened. If she hadn’t had a dagger pointed at his guts, he could have leaned down and kissed her.
She’d probably stab me, he told himself as he released her wrist, although Saul would likely get away with it.
The thought sobered him. “Does that help?” he asked, his voice curter than he’d intended.
Lilia watched him a moment longer before giving a hesitant nod. “Aye, thank you, Dain.” With that she bent down and slid the blade under her belt.
Out in Merchants’ Alley once more, Dain cast a look around the milling crowd. He didn’t like the way a few of the passersby looked at him and Lilia. Folk were showing too much interest in them. He remembered Saul’s warning about The Brotherhood and decided they’d lingered here long enough. The thought of Lilia kissing Saul had soured his mood.
“We’d better return to the inn,” he said tersely. “It’ll be getting dark soon.”
Lilia climbed up the steps toward the fourth tier of Idriss. It was definitely easier scaling these steps without being hampered by long skirts. Dain climbed at her side.
“Thank the shadows we’re leaving tomorrow,” she gasped. “These stairs will be the end of me.”
Dain glanced at her before smiling. “You’d get used to them after a while.”
Lilia shook her head, adamant. “No, I wouldn’t.”
They reached the fourth tier and stopped to regain their breath. Bent double, Lilia took in large gulps of air and waited for the thundering of her heart to settle. Eventually, she straightened up, enjoying the cool breeze on her heated face, and leaned against the rough stone wall that ran along the edge of the tier. She looked down, her gaze sweeping across the jumble of dark roofs to the Bay of Idriss. The light had almost faded, the last glow of the sun—still hidden behind a mantle of cloud—sliding toward the edge of the sea.
Then she spied a familiar but unwelcome sight. The dark bulk of a galleon rode the incoming tide just beyond the docks.
15
The Dark Years
UPSTAIRS IN THE damp, drafty room that overlooked the city and the Bay of Idriss, the four travelers sat down on their respective sleeping pallets and waited for their meal of bread, cheese, salted pork, and a jug of ale to arrive.
Lilia shifted uncomfortably on her pallet, aware that Saul's gaze kept straying to her. She glanced his way to see him watching her under lowered lids. His expression was appreciative.
“I see you’ve adopted a new look?” he murmured.
She nodded, her cheeks warming under his scrutiny. “Aye … skirts aren’t practical for riding.”
She was aware then of Dain’s stare. His gaze flicked between her and Saul. Their argument earlier had already made it clear that he disliked Saul. Yet the look on his face now revealed it went deeper than that.
Uncomfortable, Lilia’s attention shifted to the pallet opposite, where Ryana lay. She had stretched out on her back, her long legs crossed over at the ankles with her hands behind her head. The enchanter looked drained and pale, and was quieter than usual.
“Ryana, how was your trip to get supplies?” Lilia asked, hoping to draw attention away from her.
Ryana looked up, her gaze narrowing slightly. “It went well enough,” she replied. “Saul has secured four fast horses for tomorrow. We have everything we need for the journey … and your friend here knows how to strike a good bargain.”
Lilia glanced at Saul to find him grinning. "I told you. Just because I’m a prince, doesn’t mean I don't know the value of coin. That sloop was a fine craft, and I wasn't going to let her go for less than she was worth.”
Ryana gave Saul a withering look: one that made Lilia wonder if the two of them had argued this afternoon. The pair of them weren’t friends, but there was a tension between them there hadn’t been earlier. Both Saul and Ryana had said very little since returning to the inn.
Ryana broke the tense silence, turning her attention back to Lilia. “It’s good you’ve been kitted out in more practical clothes,” she said with a tight smile. “And you’ve got a weapon too?”
“I thought it best the bearer of The King Breaker was armed on this journey.” Dain spoke up. "Lilia needs to be able to defend herself.”
“She's got the three of us to look after her, hasn't she?” Saul drawled.
“Aye,” Dain replied. “But who's going to protect her from you, if Ryana and I aren’t around?”
Saul laughed, although to Lilia it sounded forced. She saw the look that passed between the two men; at this rate it was only a matter of time before an argument erupted.
It was time to change the subject.
Lilia caught Dain’s eye. “I heard what the tailor said to you,” she said quietly, “about Veldoras being under attack.”
“Aye,” Dain replied, his gaze flicking back to Saul. “You must be pleased.”
Lilia’s heart sank. She’d hoped to diffuse the tension in the room, but Dain wasn’t finished with Saul yet it seemed.
Saul’s face was a mask of schooled boredom. “Delighted.”
“So what’s next for your father? Rithmar?”
Saul shrugged, his gaze hooded. “As if I’d tell you.”
Across the room Ryana sat up and leaned forward. “So he has plans beyond taking Thûn then?”
Saul held her gaze and smirked. “Maybe … maybe not.”
Ryana’s face hardened. She opened her mouth to question him further, but the inn-keeper chose that moment to knock on the door. A moment later his voice rumbled through the thick oak. “I’ve brought your supper.”
Hrolf entered, with his son—a lad of around ten years—behind him. They carried in platters of food and drink.
“Good eve,” Hrolf grunted. He set the platters down on the table. “Supper will cost you two bronze talents.”
Wordlessly, Saul climbed to his feet in a fluid movement and dug into the purse at his belt.
He handed the inn-keeper the bronze talents, as well as another of silver.
Hrolf’s eyes widened, and he shot Saul a questioning look.
Saul smiled. “If anyone comes here, asking after me or my friends … you’ve never seen us.”
Hrolf held eye contact for a few moments before nodding.
When the inn-keeper and his son had left the room, Ryana’s mouth thinned. “Why did you do that?”
Saul gave her a dismissive look before helping himself to some bread and cheese. “Just ensuring Hrolf keeps his mouth shut.”
“All you’ve done is made him suspicious. What makes you think he’ll not sell you to the first person who comes knocking?”
Saul snorted. “He won’t … he knows what’s good for him.”
Ryana made a choking sound, as if forcing back her anger. “That might be so but, in future, consult us before you make lordly gestures.”
In response, Saul gave Ryana an infuriating smile before turning his back on her and
crossing to his sleeping pallet. Ryana glared at his back before rising to her feet. She then helped herself to food off the table. Her movements were sharp and jerky, a sign of the anger she was only just managing to leash.
Lilia and Dain both got to their feet and served themselves some supper. Outside the open window, the sky had gone the color of a bruise and a chill seeped in. Lilia went over to the window and closed the wooden shutters, bolting them shut.
“It’s cold for this time of year, isn’t it?” she observed.
None of the others answered. Either her companions hadn’t heard her, or they were too preoccupied with their own thoughts to care.
The evening passed slowly, in contrast to the urgency of the last two days. It felt odd, almost as if time stood still for the night.
Lilia sat on her pallet, her back against the damp stone wall, and mulled over the events that had brought her to the mainland. Ever since that morning in the yard outside The Grey Anchor, things had happened so fast she’d barely had time to dwell on them.
In an instant her life had been uprooted. The King Breaker lay like a lump of ice against her skin, a constant reminder of why she was here.
Lilia looked up from her introspection, her gaze sweeping around the room. Dain and Saul were both stretched out, dozing, on their pallets, whereas Ryana was sitting up, her back against the wall. The enchanter stared out into space, her gaze inward.
“Ryana …”
The woman blinked and glanced Lilia’s way. “What?”
“This silence … it’s getting to me.”
A wry smile twisted Ryana’s lips. “I was enjoying it.”
“I’m used to keeping busy,” Lilia replied quietly. “The evenings at The Grey Anchor are the busiest time.”
Ryana shrugged. “Things will be different now … your only purpose is to keep that stone safe till we reach the capital.”
Lilia watched her a moment. Ryana was an enigma. She’d liked the light-hearted scop with the independent spirit she had known back on Orin—but she wasn’t sure about this woman. Ryana had a watchfulness she didn’t trust. Plus, she had a temper and bitterness that bubbled just under the surface. Nevertheless, they were stuck with each other for the moment, and the enchanter’s abilities could prove useful if The Brotherhood caught up with them again.
The thought of those men, dark silhouettes clad in leather against the skyline as they closed the gap, made her pulse quicken. “Will your Order be able to help me?” she asked, finally.
Ryana nodded. “They’ll keep you, and the stone, safe.”
“They didn’t do such a good job last time.” Across the room, Saul had woken from his dozing and rolled onto his side. He was now observing Ryana coolly. “They let one of their own steal the other piece of The King Breaker.”
Lilia tensed—readying herself for another argument. She didn’t want Ryana and Saul to start bickering again; her nerves were on edge as it was. She would never be able to sleep at this rate. Lilia ignored Saul’s barb and focused on the enchanter.
“Could you sing for us, Ryana?” she asked.
Ryana glanced at her, irritated. “The only songs I have in mind to sing tonight are grim ones.”
“It matters not,” Lilia assured her. Ryana’s voice had a soothing quality. “Any song will do.”
Except one about shifters.
Ryana’s mouth pursed, and she cast a sharp look across the room at Saul. “Very well.” She reached down and retrieved a small harp from her leather pack. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Farther along from Ryana, Dain stirred, rolled over, and yawned. He peered across at Lilia, his light brown hair rumpled, and was about to speak when Ryana began to pluck at her harp.
Long, sad notes echoed through the room, transporting Lilia back to The Grey Anchor and those nights she had sat by the hearth after work, listening to Ryana. Her tense shoulders relaxed slightly in response.
Then Ryana began to sing.
The dark years are upon us
Valgarth rules
Smoke in the Shadefells
Fields of cairns.
Gone are the old gods
We worship the black altar.
The dark years are upon us
Valgarth rules
United under one cruel king
An army of shadows.
Gone are the old ways
We toil for our new lord.
The dark years are upon us
Valgarth rules
Dominated, doomed
Driven like oxen.
Gone is hope, gone is the light
His shadow obscures the sun.
It was a mournful song, one that spoke of utter loss of hope—and it chilled Lilia’s blood. The song was old, crafted at a time when The Shadow King had ruled Serran. Although Lilia knew the story of the dark enchanter who had seized power all those years ago, and his reign of terror, she had never felt it till this moment. Until now those dark years had only ever been a story, safely buried in the past.
For the first time Lilia sensed what it felt like to lose your freedom, to lose hope. The stone around her neck was responsible for locking The Shadow King away in his mountain prison—yet it could also set him free.
I can’t let that happen.
A hollow silence followed once Ryana’s voice had died away. Dain looked troubled and even Saul wasn’t smiling.
Saul cleared his throat. “You weren’t lying … I’ve never heard anything so depressing.”
Ryana and Saul’s gazes met and held.
“It’s a reminder,” Ryana replied. “What happened in the past, can come to pass again.”
Saul gave her a lopsided grin. “Why don’t you sing us a bawdy tavern tune instead?”
Ryana shook her head and tucked away her harp into her pack. “I’m not in the mood.”
16
The Encounter
A misty dawn rose over Idriss as four figures wearing packs made their way down the snaking stairs of the upper town. They had risen early, before the first glimmer of dawn illuminated the eastern sky, and had left The Sailor’s Rest under the cover of darkness.
Lilia didn’t like the foggy gloom this morning. Being out and about before dawn made her nervous. Tendrils of mist snaked through the streets like some ghostly kraken, reminding her that beyond the well-lit streets of this city shadow creatures lurked. However, this early start was necessary. They had to leave now—before The Brotherhood found them.
Lilia walked between Ryana and Dain. She was on edge this morning. Ryana’s song had left her out-of-sorts, and she had barely slept during the night. Instead, she had lain staring up into the darkness.
Lilia pulled her cloak close around her, glad of its warmth. Although she felt odd wearing them, her new boots were snug and gripped the worn stone steps as she descended them. Her leggings allowed her to stride out as her skirts never had.
They descended the levels, the soles of their boots scraping on stone, until they reached the claustrophobic streets of The Tangle. Here, Saul led them north, through a network of fetid alleyways. The lamps were guttering, and some of them had already gone out. The encircling mist blocked out the rising sun. The fine hair on the back of Lilia’s arms prickled. It was cold and damp in the slums. Shabby stone buildings made of stained, pitted stone reared overhead, and a milky mist trailed through the streets at knee-height.
Dain appeared at her shoulder. “Are you alright, Lily?” he asked quietly.
Lilia nodded, forcing a brittle smile. “I will be once the sun burns this mist away,” she whispered back.
“Quiet,” Saul interrupted them. “No talking until we’re clear of the city.”
Dain and Lilia exchanged looks but heeded him. He had a point; the slightest sound carried in these narrow stone alleys.
They entered a slightly wider street, littered with refuse and festooned with washing lines. A row of guttering lanterns, consuming their last dregs of oil, illuminated the way, casting long sha
dows across the cobbles.
Lilia’s amulet started to burn ice-cold against her skin.
Stifling a gasp, she reached under her shirt and clasped it.
They were half-way up the street when Saul pulled up short, the movement so sudden that Ryana nearly walked into his back.
The hiss of Saul’s warning a moment later made Lilia freeze mid-step. “Stop.”
A heartbeat passed. Lilia peered up ahead. Fog snaked down the street, but she could see nothing.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“There’s something watching me,” Saul murmured.
Lilia stopped breathing. A few steps ahead, Ryana had gone still.
The first indication that they were not alone on that street was the odor that floated toward her—the odd tang of hot iron, as if a smithy was already hard at work nearby. Then she heard the rasp of labored breathing.
The mist cleared and all of them saw what had stopped Saul in his tracks.
From a distance it resembled a naked man. Yet the moment your eyes adjusted you knew it wasn’t—there was a wrongness about the form, even from afar. Emaciated and bent double with long lank hair hanging over its face, the stranger stood there in the center of the street blocking their path.
It was still, unnervingly so.
Then it slowly raised its face, the hanks of greasy hair parting to reveal a hard, wolf-like stare. That predatory gaze fixed upon Saul. Although the body was that of a man, the face reminded Lilia of a lizard: pale with small, flattened features.
A wave of animal musk hit Lilia like a wall. She choked back a gag.
“Back up.” Saul whispered to his companions, although he kept his gaze fixed firmly upon the naked figure standing just a few feet away. Slowly, he drew one of his knives. “We’ll take another route.”
No sooner had he spoken when it lunged for him.
It moved fast, quicker than a man ever could. One moment it had been watching Saul, the next it leaped for his throat.