The Shadow's Heart

by K J Taylor

  ‘We need more followers,’ Myfina agreed. ‘We should use Skenfrith to our advantage. You saw what happened there. What the half-breed did was unspeakable. An entire city, destroyed just because we dared to stand up to her. People will listen to that. They’ll be angry. Think of all the people in other cities who lost relatives today.’

  ‘Yes.’ Caedmon’s eyes narrowed. ‘The half-breed won, but she also stabbed herself in the foot. Without the support of the people, she can’t rule forever. And today she showed them her true colours.’

  ‘So we should use it,’ said Myfina. ‘Spread the word. We shouldn’t try to raise open rebellion just yet, though, not until we’re strong enough.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Caedmon nodded to himself as he thought. ‘We’ll send people out. Staying together was our downfall in Skenfrith, so we’ll break up. Go our separate ways. If we do that, we can be everywhere at once. The half-breed won’t know where to look.’

  ‘And Saeddryn?’

  ‘I’ll send her out too. But not just to talk.’ Caedmon gritted his teeth. ‘I’ll send her out to kill. She can help me decide where to strike. We need that half-breed dead. She can’t stay in Malvern forever. Sooner or later she’ll leave again, and when we catch her away from home, she’s dead. I don’t care who does it.’

  ‘I understand why you wanted to do it yourself, before,’ said Myfina. ‘It’s your right.’

  ‘I was stupid,’ Caedmon snapped. ‘I lost us our chance to be rid of her. If I’d let Mo — Saeddryn kill her when she had the chance …’

  Myfina took his hand in both of hers. ‘There’s no point in agonising over what might have been,’ she said gently. ‘Skenfrith would still have been lost.’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not. But you’re right.’ Caedmon let go of her hands. ‘Let’s go and talk to our Shadow That Walks.’

  Saeddryn returned to camp shortly after this, as if she had sensed she was needed. She listened while Caedmon outlined his new plan to the others, and afterwards when he took her aside and gave her her own mission.

  When he had finished speaking, she nodded briefly. ‘Fear tactics. I know what to do. Give me my first target, an’ I’ll leave immediately.’

  ‘You can choose your own,’ said Caedmon. ‘It doesn’t matter who it is, as long as it’s done right. Make them prominent, make them public, make them sudden. I want to see loyal officials killed behind locked doors, Queen-appointed governors falling in front of their offsiders. Even griffins, if you can manage it. I want them to be afraid. I want the Queen’s supporters to know that we’re out there, and that while the half-breed sits on my throne, no-one is safe.’

  Saeddryn smiled grimly. ‘Understood. I’ll go now. Don’t tell the others exactly what I’m doin’. Just a hint is enough.’

  ‘I know.’ Caedmon gave her a quick hug.

  He nearly whispered something to her, nearly let slip some apology, but nothing came out. His mother had raised him to be a doer, not a talker or a weakling, and she would only be irritated if he did something like that.

  Saeddryn returned the hug, but her embrace wasn’t a pleasant one. It was cold and bony. Not a mother’s hug, but a killer’s. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ she told him as she let go. ‘The Night God is with us. Nothing can stand in our way forever.’

  She walked away. Caedmon watched her go, but he lost sight of her almost instantly as she melted away into the gathering darkness. A predator, slipping away to begin the hunt.

  Out of earshot in the shadows, Saeddryn tilted her head and scented the breeze. Her sense of smell had become much stronger, and now it painted pictures of ice and pine trees, and revealed the faint tang of living creatures hiding from the fear her presence put into them. Time to stalk now. Time to kill.

  ‘Arenadd,’ she said, in a voice so low it was barely a whisper.

  Yes?

  ‘Seek.’

  TEN

  TWISTED LOVE

  Laela sat by the fire in her bedroom and stared at the flames, trying to ignore the bruised itching from her infected arm. She had kept the ruined tattoos hidden, and had done her best to drain and dress them herself. They probably wouldn’t kill her, but for now they were a constant irritation.

  But her mind wasn’t really on that now, or anything in the present moment. That afternoon, she had had a private meeting with a couple of her new Council members. They had asked — very carefully — about Skenfrith, and exactly what she had done there.

  ‘Wiped out the enemy,’ Laela had snapped back.

  The councillor who had spoken first had looked hesitant. ‘With respect, my Lady, the normal practice is to discuss important decisions like this more thoroughly with the Council.’

  ‘I didn’t have the time for that,’ Laela had said. ‘We had to take ’em by surprise. Anyway, it worked, so what’s the complaining for?’

  The councillor had looked even more uncomfortable, and had left his friend to answer for him. ‘Understood, my Lady, but we both felt you should know that there is unrest in the city. Skenfrith was necessary, but the people are unhappy. Even those who don’t support the rebels feel that you went too far. Plenty of ordinary people — who were not supporters of Caedmon — were caught up in the massacre.’

  For the first time in a long while, Laela didn’t know what to say. ‘We had to do it,’ she said eventually. ‘Caedmon had to be stopped.’

  ‘But he escaped,’ said the first councillor.

  ‘Well, next time he won’t,’ Laela had snapped back. ‘Now, get lost.’

  She’d dismissed the pair of them, but it had left her feeling uneasy. They were right: plenty of ordinary people had died in Skenfrith. It was hard enough getting griffins to fight as a group; expecting them to know the difference between enemies and innocents was just plain stupid. But her course of action had seemed so clear-cut at the time …

  Laela brooded and scratched her sore arm. How had it come to this? How had she ever gone this far? She had come to Malvern as a nobody; she’d never hurt anyone in her life. She had condemned Arenadd for the massacres he’d committed, and the people he’d murdered. But now …

  ‘What’ve I done?’ she muttered aloud. ‘What’ve I turned into? Gods …’

  A fierce longing gripped her by the heart. In that moment, all she wanted was to see Arenadd again. She wanted him to be there beside her so badly it hurt. Without him there she had no-one to confide in, no-one to help her, no-one to tell her the truth. With Arenadd gone she only had Kullervo left, once he returned, but she couldn’t rely on Kullervo the same way she had on her father. Kullervo was too timid, too eager to please. But she could have talked to Arenadd, and he would have understood.

  Tears wet Laela’s face. She couldn’t bear to stay here, in this room where she had first seen her father’s face.

  With a sudden motion, she stood up and walked out through Skandar’s nest. It was empty — Skandar often went flying at night. Alone, she went onto the balcony and looked up at the stars. They glittered above her, seemingly endless, but the darkness around them was nothing but a void.

  Even here, though, the sense of Arenadd’s presence stayed with her, and it made her want to cry properly — to let herself give in to the sobs locked away in her chest. But she controlled herself. She was a queen. She was Arenadd’s daughter, the scourge of Skenfrith.

  Laela smiled weakly. ‘Funny, ain’t it?’ she whispered to the invisible presence of her father. ‘Not even a year ago, yeh told me I was like you. I wouldn’t listen, but it was the truth, wasn’t it? I can see it now. I really am yer daughter.’ She shivered, and wrapped her arms around herself. ‘I’ve done somethin’ terrible, Arenadd. I won’t ever tell them, but I can see it. I killed my own people in Skenfrith. Didn’t even think about it; just did it. Is that what you would’ve done? I dunno, but it’s what I did. They must hate me now.

  ‘But what else was I gonna do?’ she added, appealing to the sky. ‘What else? Was I just gonna sit here and do nothin’? Wait for Caedmon an’ S
aeddryn to come here an’ kill me? An’ then what? Once he’s on the throne, Caedmon’ll go straight for the South. I know that’s what yeh wanted me to do. Keep the South safe. But I’m startin’ to wonder if it’s even worth it. They’ll never thank me for it.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘They hated me for being a half-breed. Now they’ll hate me because I’m a tyrant too. But it’s so hard … I just wish yeh were here, Arenadd. I …’

  She trailed off, feeling both terrible sadness and vague embarrassment. Was she so lonely now that she’d resorted to talking to herself?

  But as she turned away, she couldn’t stop herself from whispering one last thing — to herself, to the sky, to the feeling she had that someone or something was watching her. ‘Arenadd, I miss you so much.’

  She went back inside after that, angrily wiping her eyes on her sleeve, unable to hear the voice that replied, whispering out of the shadows, inaudible to mortal ears but still real, and full of sadness and regret.

  I miss you too …

  In the end, Prince Akhane elected to bring a band of about twenty people on the journey to Cymria. Some of them were fellow nobles and friends of his, and the rest were servants — none of them slaves, since Akhane judged that would be offensive — guards and other fighters, some of whom were native Maijani, and a pair of priests. Most of Akhane’s friends were griffiners, so it was just as well that they would be making the trip on the prince’s own ship, which had been specially built to accommodate griffins. The crew were a mix of Maijani and Amorani — the former, Akhane claimed, were a race of born sailors.

  Kullervo got on board with Senneck and Inva and the rest of their own escort, and took up residence in a cabin. It was a pokey little thing, but he was more than happy to spend most of his time up on deck, watching the crew at work and mingling with Akhane and his friends. It would be a long trip home, and new friends would make it pass faster.

  Akhane, ever polite, was more than happy to help. ‘This is Rhaki, and his partner Kargh. They have been friends to me and Zekh since childhood. And this is Lady Yuha, a fellow scholar. And this is Lord Vander, and up there is his partner Ymazu.’

  The last man to be introduced was an Amorani in his fifties or sixties, whose hair and neat little moustache were both peppered with grey. His face was shrewd and bright-eyed as he bowed politely to Kullervo.

  ‘It is my pleasure to meet you,’ he said in a measured way that felt slightly familiar, and while he spoke those eyes were fixed on Kullervo’s face, taking in every detail.

  Kullervo had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being summed up. ‘Er, I’m pleased to meet you too, Lord Vander. Are you a scholar as well?’

  ‘Perhaps, these days.’ Vander allowed himself a smile. ‘Ymazu and I were the Emperor’s chief diplomats. We had retired to a quiet life on Maijan, but when Prince Akhane offered us the opportunity to see the great city of Malvern again, we decided that we would enjoy another visit. A diplomat never loses his taste for travel.’

  ‘Did you ever work as a diplomat with King Arenadd?’ Kullervo ventured, remembering Laela’s story about how she had helped make an alliance with Amoran.

  ‘I did,’ said Vander. ‘And I was sad to hear that he had gone. But not surprised, I admit.’

  Kullervo cocked his head like a griffin. ‘Why not?’

  ‘The King was very ill the last time I saw him.’ Vander smoothed his moustache. ‘I travelled back with him from Instabahn, as far as Maijan. He left Amoran unconscious, and did not wake until we were well out to sea. Even after that he was confined to his bunk. When I visited him to say farewell at Maijan, he looked like a man on his deathbed. I think Tara will be a different country without him.’

  ‘It is,’ said Kullervo. For the better, he hoped.

  Vander gave another one of his quiet smiles and excused himself. Kullervo, watching him go, decided that he liked the reserved Amorani. Clearly, he knew a lot more than he would admit to just anyone. Kullervo decided he would make a point of getting to know him better during the voyage.

  Another person he talked to was one of the priests. There were two, but one was more talkative than the other, who merely introduced himself briefly before moving on. The first, however, was more than happy to tell Kullervo more about the Amorani god.

  ‘Xanathus,’ he said. ‘His body is the sun, but it is too bright for us to see. He has many names — in your country, he is Gryphus — but all those names and faces belong to the one god. He is the light of life, which makes the plants grow and the warmth come into our bodies. He is the maker, the Tailor Who Stitched the World, some call him.’

  Kullervo listened patiently. ‘What does he want? What do his followers do?’

  ‘To love life is to serve him,’ said the priest. ‘To love other living creatures, and nourish them. To plant crops and to father children and raise them well, that is the work of Xanathus.’

  ‘Don’t most people do that anyway?’ Kullervo asked.

  ‘That is what he has made us to do,’ said the priest. ‘But it must be done with love, and faith in him, and there are prayers and rituals …’

  There was plenty more talk where that came from, and Kullervo kept listening well after he had lost interest. During his upbringing in the South he had spent a lot of time with priests, and he had heard them say things not much different from this. But there was one difference that he soon noticed. The priests of Gryphus had no qualms about advocating war and persecution of Northerners and other ‘heretics’. This priest, however, described a philosophy of preserving life and never making war except in times of dire need.

  It was an attractive notion, but Kullervo remembered what he had learned about the Amorani Empire and its endless conquests of neighbouring countries, which it universally plundered for treasure and slaves. Talk was all very well, he decided, but the nature of human beings never changed, not deep down at the core where it really mattered.

  Still, it was interesting to hear the priest describe the great temples in the mountains of Amoran, and some of the customs and rituals that went on in them. Kullervo paid close attention and learned much, and before long he was regretting not having gone on to Amoran. But he could do that later. For now he had more important things on his mind. When the war was over, he could go back and see those places for himself. Senneck might like that too, especially once she knew how griffins were worshipped and pampered in most of those temples.

  Meanwhile, Akhane was full of stories about all the distant lands he had visited and the people he had met. He had seen giant serpents in Erebus, he said, and monstrous lions in Eire, and he had seen rain-dances performed by the last of the lost shamans beyond the Dry Mountains. Smiling ruefully, he also talked about some of the rumours and legends he had chased, and the lunatics and liars they had led him to.

  ‘I have filled entire books with them,’ he said. When Kullervo asked, he duly presented one, filled with handwriting that Kullervo thought looked beautifully neat, even if he couldn’t read a word of it.

  Vander too became a friend, even if he wasn’t as open about his life as Akhane. Kullervo kept trying, however, and Vander seemed to find his innocent curiosity amusing, since the quiet little smile returned nearly every time Kullervo spoke to him. He did tell a few stories of his own, mostly about the wars and conflicts he had been involved in over the years, but he did so in a quiet and cautious kind of way, often talking more about the palaces and the wealthy nobles in them than what they had been fighting over or how they had resolved matters. Vander reminded Kullervo of Inva, and one day he went so far as to point that out.

  Vander smiled. ‘A slave is trained from birth to see much and say nothing. And so is a diplomat, for much the same reasons.’

  ‘But you’re not a diplomat any more,’ said Kullervo.

  Vander touched his neck. ‘No more than I am a slave any more. But a man cannot put aside a lifetime’s learning.’

  Kullervo nodded absently, then breathed in sharply when he grasped what Vander had just said.
‘Wait — did you say you were a slave?’

  ‘In my boyhood,’ Vander said calmly. ‘The law in Amoran says that any slave who is chosen by a griffin must be freed at once.’

  ‘Oh.’ Kullervo grinned. ‘That must be why Inva likes you.’

  For the first time, Vander looked genuinely taken aback. ‘What is this?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you knew,’ Kullervo said.

  ‘I do not think that I did,’ said Vander, more restrained than ever.

  ‘I’ve seen her looking at you,’ Kullervo went on guilelessly. ‘Sometimes she smiles too. But she looks down if you look at her. I think she’s too shy to say anything. But I heard Skarok say she’s been grooming herself carefully and putting perfume in her hair. I think that means something.’

  There was no trace of Vander’s little smile left. ‘I see,’ he said slowly.

  ‘Maybe you could talk to her,’ said Kullervo. ‘She never says much, but I think she’s a very lonely woman. She doesn’t have any friends that I know about. You could talk about diplomacy, maybe.’ He grinned nervously.

  For a few moments Vander was unreadable. Kullervo quickly became uncomfortable, and even started to try and find hostility in the diplomat’s mask.

  But then Vander smiled. ‘You are not a man who keeps secrets, are you, Lord Kullervo?’

  Kullervo reddened. ‘Er … well, I’ve never really had to. But some things shouldn’t be kept secret.’

  Vander raised an eyebrow. ‘What things do you think they are, my Lord?’

  ‘Love is one,’ said Kullervo. ‘And sadness. And suffering. If you keep those secret, they’ll only hurt you. Sometimes, it’s better to set them free.’

  For the merest instant, Vander looked a little sad himself. ‘You are wiser than you seem. But I hope for your country’s sake that you are never entrusted with state secrets. They will fall out of your tongue like coins from an open purse.’

  Kullervo laughed. ‘You’d be surprised. I can be very stubborn when I want to be. If I weren’t, I’d still have teeth.’