by Jayne Castel
In the distance he could make out the conical shapes of tents in the heart of the encampment—but a horde of shadow creatures separated him from his destination.
His mind scampered. How are they even here? Who’s controlling them?
“What’s wrong?” A voice whispered in his ear. “Have you pissed your pants?”
After a day’s merciful silence, his shadow had awoken. However, its taunt galvanized him. He’d not prove it right; he’d show his worth to all who depended upon him. Brand squared his shoulders, fixing his gaze on the tips of the tents up ahead, and pressed on.
Halfway through the ranks, he made the mistake of glancing left, meeting the eye of a Nightgenga. It leered, reaching out its strangler’s hands toward him. Brand fought the urge to cringe, sweat now pouring down his back. Behind the Nightgenga one of those tall grey-shrouded figures looked on. Brand peered into its shadowy hood, his pulse accelerating when he saw nothing but a blackness beyond.
They were the longest three furlongs he’d ever walked—worse than the entire journey here. By the time Brand reached the tents he was shaking.
The crowd of shadow creatures closed up behind him, their jabbering, hissing and intermittent shrieks resuming once more. Brand now walked amongst men—tall, broad soldiers with hard faces, clad in leather and chain mail. Many of The Shade Brotherhood Brand passed greeted him; some with brusque nods, others with grins. Yet none tried to stop the young man, or slow his path through their midst.
They all knew why he was here.
The ring of charcoal-colored tents, a black flag bearing two linked red circles fluttering from the top of the largest, loomed before him. A fire pit sat in the clearing before the tents, and men were loading it with chunks of peat. Few trees grew in these parts, and so the men were forced to use other sources of fuel to warm the long, dark nights. Peat stank but it burned hotter and longer than wood.
Two men stood a few feet back from the fire pit, watching its preparation.
The elder of the two was clearly a soldier. He was bald, with a craggy face and a rangy, muscular frame. The man beside him was slightly taller, with dark good looks that marked him a man of Anthor. Like that scheming southern princeling who’d nearly succeeded in stealing the stone, Gael hailed from Mirrar Rock.
The two men had been conversing, but upon spying Brand they abruptly ceased.
His exhaustion, fear and desperation forgotten, Brand hobbled across to them—a grin splitting his tired face. This wasn’t the time to keep them in suspense. They’d all waited too long for this. “I have it!”
Gael smiled, his dark-brown eyes gleaming. “Show us.”
Brand stopped before them and reached under his shirt, pulling the stone free. “Here it is—the second half of The King Breaker.”
The smile froze on Gael’s face. When he spoke his tone was low, accusatory. “I told you not to wear it.”
Brand ignored him. Gael didn’t command him, and Brand didn’t care what the enchanter thought. He hadn’t risked his life for him. Years of planning, of pretense. He’d done it all for the man standing next to Gael.
Trond, Commander of The Shade Brotherhood stepped forward. The older man wore an expression Brand had never seen before, one he’d always hoped to see. On his weather-beaten face Brand saw pride. His shadow had been wrong; he was worth something.
“My son,” the commander rumbled as their gazes met and held. “You’ve done well.”
39
Putting Things Right
Half a day’s ride from the foothills of the Shadefell Mountains, the scouts returned.
Asher, who rode in-between Thrindul and Irana behind the king’s party, peered at the four dark specks on the road ahead, approaching fast. The thunder of galloping hooves rent the air. It was late morning, and the sky was the color of slate from one horizon to the other.
Watching the four horses, lathered and exhausted, draw up at the head of the column, Asher felt a pang of misgiving. He could see from their urgency that the news was not good. Next to him, Thrindul’s gaze was as sharp as that of the hawk perched on his shoulder. The High Enchanter had wanted to send Grim forth, to bring back news from the north, but the king had preferred to deploy scouts instead—making it clear he didn’t trust Thrindul, or his familiar’s word.
“At last,” the High Enchanter muttered. “Some news.”
A horn echoed down the line, calling the army to a halt.
Thrindul urged his horse forward and rode toward the front ranks. Irana cast a pointed look at Asher before the two of them followed the High Enchanter.
They arrived at the head of the main army to find King Nathan interrogating the scouts. The king, clad in leather, a dark fur cloak rippling from his shoulders, rode a heavy bay charger. His face was pale as he stared at the scout closest to him.
“Are you sure of this?
The young man nodded, sweat glistening on his face, his eyes wide. “Aye—saw it myself, milord.”
“And Captain Garick knows?”
“He does, we stopped at the vanguard first.”
King Nathan spat a curse before turning his attention back to the four men upon sweat-slicked horses. “And their numbers?”
“They match ours, milord … possibly more.”
Thrindul urged his horse forward, drawing up next to the king. “How have The Brotherhood managed to gather so many soldiers?”
King Nathan turned to Thrindul. Looking on, Asher noted how pale and shaken he looked. “It’s not just men who wait for us,” he rasped.
Lilia stared at Asher, the meal of oat cakes and salted pork she’d just eaten churning in her belly. “But how?”
Asher shook his head. “Thrindul believes that Valgarth himself is behind it. Once the pieces of The King Breaker started moving, he was able to call his servants to him. That’s why the weather has turned, why we haven’t seen the sun in weeks. The Shadow Army can’t abide sunlight.”
His voice died away and a heavy silence followed. The four of them stood outside the supply wagon. Around them, Lilia could hear the low murmur of voices. The sour smell of fear hung heavy in the air. The news that shadow creatures had amassed at the feet of the Shadefell Mountains would have reached all the troops by now. Tension rippled through the Rithmar army. The men and horses were tired from days of travelling. They weren’t ready to engage with such a host.
Lilia swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “It’s just as well the king has so many enchanters with him.” She attempted a brittle smile and failed. “Iron and steel won’t be enough.”
Asher’s expression hardened. “Aye, but those of us of the Light are weakened by nights of keeping the sphere raised.”
“What’s the king decided?” Dain asked. “Will he press on?”
Asher nodded. “We will advance. At its current pace, the army will reach them by nightfall.”
“Is The Shadow King free?” Ryana spoke up for the first time since Asher had delivered the news.
“We don’t know,” Asher replied. “The scouts said the army still seemed to be gathering. If he’s been freed, he appears to be waiting … for what I don’t know.”
Ryana ran a hand over her face before she glanced at Lilia. “You wanted a chance to help—well now you have it.”
Lilia stared back at her, confused. “What?”
“If we don’t make our move tonight, it’s over.”
Fear fluttered at the base of Lilia’s ribcage. She’d expected to have time to prepare for this, but all of a sudden the end was rushing toward her. “But we don’t even have a plan,” she murmured weakly.
“Well then, we need to make one,” Dain replied. His gaze was fixed upon Ryana. “Out with it, I can see you’ve got an idea.”
Ryana leaned back against the wagon, tilted her face skyward and closed her eyes, as if summoning her strength. “None of you will like this,” she said finally, “but I think it’s the only way.”
“Just tell us,” Lilia replied, her voice sharper
than she’d intended. “You’re making me nervous.”
Ryana lowered her face, her steel-blue gaze meeting Lilia’s. “Someone needs to get into Valgarth’s camp and stop him.”
Asher folded his arms across his chest, regarding her. “And you’re putting your hand up?”
Ryana shifted her attention to Asher. “I am.”
He frowned. “If the three of you go into their camp, you’ll never get out again.”
Ryana’s expression turned pained, and she paused to think a moment. “What if I don’t bring Lilia and Dain with me?” she asked. “Maybe it’s better if I cloak myself in shadows and enter the camp alone, unseen.”
Lilia listened to their exchange, her concern blossoming into panic as Ryana finished speaking. “Asher’s right,” she burst out. “It’s too dangerous. If Valgarth’s waiting, you won’t be able to stop him.”
Ryana’s gaze met hers. “He won’t know I’m there. I can bring him down using the Dark, or seriously damage him at least.”
“If you do that, his servants will be on you in a heartbeat.” Dain was watching Ryana with incredulity. “What are you trying to prove?”
“Nothing,” she snapped. “You all forget that part of the reason we’re here is because of me—because of my stupidity, my poor choices. I need to put things right.”
A tense silence fell in the narrow space between the supply wagons. Around them, the clang of iron and the scrape of blades being sharpened filled the damp air.
“You’re not going alone,” Lilia said. “I’m not staying behind.”
Ryana’s mouth thinned. “Very well … I could really use someone to watch my back. However, you can’t follow me into the camp itself. When this army stops for the day, we’ll slip away, circle around and approach the Shadow Army from the west.”
Asher watched her silently for a few moments. “I should join you—you can’t go in there alone.”
Ryana shook her head. “You’re required here, Asher—the enchanters of the Light need their leader. You can’t abandon them on the eve of battle.”
“So I’ll abandon you instead?”
Ryana stepped forward, reaching out and clasping his shoulder. “I’m free because of you—let me make that count.”
Asher held her gaze, his own clouded, before slowly nodding. “Very well, I’ll get you safely outside the perimeter.”
Ryana smiled back. “Thank you.”
“How much time will we have?” Dain asked.
“Enough time to do what Ryana plans,” Asher replied. “When the army arrives, there will no doubt be a parley. King Nathan and Thrindul will make demands—that’ll give you time. The Shade Brotherhood and their shadow host will be distracted, for a short while at least.”
Dusk was settling over the land in a smoky veil when three cloaked figures crept toward the western edge of the encampment. King Nathan’s troops had made camp a few furlongs back from where the Shadow Army gathered in the Vale of Barrows.
The encampment was much smaller tonight, a tight ring of wagons with a small company of troops to defend it. The bulk of Nathan’s men were readying themselves a furlong distant to the north. They would ride out shortly.
Lilia hurried to keep up with Ryana’s long stride, while Dain brought up the rear.
They didn’t have long. Asher had delayed putting up the light sphere for as long as he could. In a few moments, those few enchanters of the light he could spare would stride out bearing flaming torches, and would raise the veil.
They needed to move fast.
None of them spoke, and they tried to move as quietly as possible; the only sound the gentle scuffs of their boots on the dry ground. They were all armed: Ryana carried her quarterstaff, Dain his sword and fighting daggers, and Lilia her trusty knife. Apart from that they carried little else; only Dain shouldered a small leather pack, containing some provisions and a water skin they would have to share.
Once they cleared the edge of the encampment, making toward the crest of the hill to the west, Ryana spoke. “There shouldn’t be any Rithmar scouts keeping watch out here, as it’s too dangerous to be outside the light sphere,” she murmured. “Even so, be on your guard.”
“What about shadow creatures?” Dain asked. “Won’t the land be crawling with them as soon as the sun goes down?”
Ryana gave him a hard smile. “The fact they’re all amassing in once place works in our favor. Let’s hope they’ll be looking elsewhere, although once we reach our destination the Shadow Army will have their own sentries. We’ll need to be careful.”
Careful. Lilia’s heart started to race. Ryana always had such a cool head under pressure; she wished she were as brave.
You are, she told herself firmly as she followed the others down a scrubby hillside. The camp now lay out of sight behind them. It’s a different kind of courage, that’s all.
Both Ryana and Dain had skills that made bravery all the easier. Lilia couldn’t gather the Dark, or use her fists; she was barely able to wield the knife she carried. Yet she knew she wouldn’t shrink from what lay ahead.
Ryana was going to try and take on The Shadow King single-handed, but Lilia knew that she had to be ready to help, when the time came.
Behind her, she heard a familiar whoosh. The light sphere had just gone up, sealing the camp inside.
They were now on their own.
They reached their destination as the last vestiges of daylight drained from the world. They’d circled west for a spell, away from the road, and then north, before cutting east once they reached the foothills of the great mountain range. As they neared the road once more the three companions halted in the cleft between two rocky hills.
Dain glanced over at Lilia, barely able to make out her features in the enveloping dark. They’d said little during the trek up to the foothills. He wondered how she was bearing up; if her courage was holding.
“We must be close now,” Ryana whispered to them. “From this point on, keep your wits about you.”
She moved on, leading the way up the hillside. Silently, Dain reached out and took Lilia’s hand. Her fingers were cool, but they curled around his in a way that reassured him. No, she hadn’t lost her nerve.
A chill wind whistled down from the grey peaks above them and the mountains cast a shadow over the foothills, turning the grey dusk charcoal. By the time they climbed the last hill before the wide valley leading into the mountains, the darkness was impenetrable. They were now travelling blind.
Dain climbed the slope, trusting that Ryana’s sense of direction was better than his. There was a sharp, almost wintry bite to the air this evening. The damp smell of ice drifted down from the peaks above. He breathed it in, noting the pungent odor of peat smoke that grew stronger as they walked.
Half way up the hill, Ryana spoke, her voice a low hiss. “Get down … I think we’re almost there.”
On their bellies, the three of them crawled up the stone-strewn incline. Tiny, sharp rocks dug into Dain’s palms and knees, as well as the odd prickle from the clumps of low, thorny shrubs that carpeted the slope. He ignored the discomfort, and peeked over the edge of the rise.
His breathing stilled when he saw what lay beyond.
Crawling, skulking, loping shapes carpeted the bottom of the vale, illuminated by the flickering flames of pitch torches. Some were tall and muscular, while others were small and sinewy. Some walked on all fours, while others were bipedal like men. Among them rose black tattered standards that flapped in the wind. The standards bore strange marks inked in blood-red: two linked circles. Tendrils of mist drifted amongst the writhing, shifting mass, making the Shadow Army appear a single living entity.
Dain suppressed a shudder. Memories of that night on the Eastern Road, when he’d sat and watched a pack of shadow creatures attack The Brotherhood’s encampment, plagued him. He remembered their howling savagery, their utter lack of mercy.
Smoke rose up from a fire pit in the center of the camp, surrounded by a ring of tents. Agai
nst the licking orange flames of the fire, Dain could see the dark outlines of men moving around.
“Those tents,” Ryana whispered from next to him. It appeared she’d spotted them the same moment he had. “That’s where I’m going.”
40
Cloaked
Lilia and Dain said nothing as Ryana edged back down the hill.
Tearing her gaze from the vale below, Lilia peered down the slope. She could just make out the silhouette of Ryana’s tall form against the darkness. She watched her, catching a glimmer of movement as Ryana gathered the Dark, muttering a string of words under her breath.
Lilia felt the air churn around her, and then something whispered by, brushing like cobwebs against her face. The shadows were answering Ryana’s call, rushing to her.
A moment later, the woman’s silhouette winked out of sight.
“Ryana?” Lilia whispered. “Are you still there?”
“Yes,” Ryana replied. Her voice was close, barely more than a few feet distant, yet Lilia couldn’t see her.
“I don’t like this,” Dain murmured from next to Lilia. “You can’t go in there alone.”
“You don’t have to like it.” There was wry amusement in Ryana’s voice as she answered. “The plan hasn’t changed.”
“Aye, but now we’ve seen the size of that army, it feels like a cracked one. There must be another way.”
“There isn’t.”
“Then send me in there instead.”
Lilia sucked in her breath. “Shadows, Dain—no!”
“You can’t go,” Ryana whispered. “Without a shadow cloak, they’d rip you to pieces in a heartbeat. Only I can do this.” There was a faint crunch of boots on gravel as Ryana moved past them, cresting the ridge of the hill. “We’re wasting time,” she said. “Stay here, and if I don’t come back, return to the camp.”
