The Shadow's heir trs-1

by K J Taylor

  Laela, seeing them at last, felt her breath catch in her throat. No.

  The Northerners were tall and long-limbed-lightly built, but sinewy. Their hair was black as coal, and they had pale skin, and when one of them turned toward her Laela saw his eyes-glittering black, impassive.

  Oh, Gryphus, she thought, suddenly trembling.

  One of the Northerners lifted up a box. “What’s in this?”

  “Melon seeds, sir,” said the driver.

  The Northerner grunted and prised the box open. Laela saw his fingers, long, elegant fingers. . his face, sharp-featured and cunning. .

  Without thinking, she ran a hand over her own face. Was that what she looked like? Was she one of them? A darkwoman?

  But she was. She knew she was. Everything about them matched her own looks, everything but the eyes. .

  “We’ll take it,” said the leader, his sharp voice breaking into her thoughts. “Ye can bring it in through the gate-only ye, mind. The rest can stay here. We don’t need no bloody Southerners stinkin’ up the place.”

  “Yes, sir,” the driver nodded, and climbed back onto his seat.

  The Northerners seemed to find something very amusing about this, and they sniggered among themselves as the cart moved forward again.

  Laela darted forward. “Hey!”

  One of the Northerners turned sharply. “What d’ye want, girl?”

  Laela faced him. “I’m goin’ through, too.”

  He planted a hand on her chest and shoved her backward so hard she nearly fell over. “Ye’re goin’ nowhere, Southerner. We’re only lettin’ this one through under sufferance. An’ we don’t buy whores.”

  Laela felt ice-cold rage burning in her chest. “Yeh’ll let me through, Northerner,” she said. “I’ve come ’ere because I want t’go into the North.”

  The Northerner laughed at that-a rough, cruel laugh. “Ye, go North? That’s a nice ’un. Listen t’this, lads-we got a Southerner wantin’ to come into the King’s lands!”

  “I can pay yeh-” Laela began.

  The Northerner had had his fun. “Sod off, Southerner,” he said.

  Laela ran after him. “I ain’t no bloody Southerner, understand?” she roared. “I’m one of you, damn it!”

  The man turned. “Look-”

  She reached up to the hood she had kept in place for weeks and tore it off. The long, jet-black hair she hated tumbled free in greasy curls around her face, and she glared defiantly at the Northerners.

  Everyone there started in shock.

  “There,” Laela said loudly. “Yeh see that?” She held up a hand. “See these, yeh bastard? I’m a Northerner, an’ I want t’go home.”

  The leader of the Northerners pushed past his comrades to look at her. His black eyes narrowed. “Ye ain’t no Northerner. Look at them eyes. Ye’re a Night-cursed half-breed, ain’t ye?”

  “Me father was a Northerner,” Laela said steadily.

  “But not yer mother,” the man finished. “Go away, girl. We don’t need yer Southern blood on our soil.”

  Laela took a deep breath-this was her last chance. “Fine, so I’m a half-breed. But I’m a half-breed what’s carryin’ five hundred gold oblong.”

  The commander stopped at that. “Five hundred-don’t try an’ play games, half-blood, or I’ll carve yer throat out.”

  Laela swung her bundle down off her shoulders and pulled out the bag of money. She opened it and pulled out a single oblong, holding it so it flashed in the light. “I’ll give it to yeh,” she said. “If yeh let me through.”

  The man fingered the hilt of the wicked-looking sickle in his belt. “An’ what’s t’stop me takin’ it anyway, girl?”

  Laela reached behind her back and freed her sword. “This is,” she snarled, and pointed it directly at his throat.

  The man stared at her. Then he glanced at his companions, who were looking on, unreadable.

  Then, suddenly, he burst out laughing. “Hahahah! Hark at that half-breed, would ye? Thinks she’s gonna walk straight through here with her trusty sword an’ her bag of oblong.”

  “I’ll walk through with the sword,” said Laela. “The oblong’re yours.”

  The commander became serious. “What’s yer name, girl?”

  She lifted her chin. “Laela Redguard of Sturrick.”

  “An’ why are ye tryin’ t’go North, Laela Redguard of Sturrick?”

  “’Cause. .” Laela hesitated. “’Cause once all Northerners. . once darkmen like you din’t have no place to call home. Yeh were all slaves, in the North or anywhere else, an’ nobody thought yeh were anythin’ but worthless. Now yeh’ve shown the world yeh ain’t that, an’ yeh’ve got Southerners callin’ you ‘sir.’ Well, I ain’t no Southerner, an’ I ain’t no Northerner, an’ I got no home an’ no respect neither. But I thought if I went North an’ found my father’s people, then maybe I’d find somewhere, ’cause you people’d understand. Or maybe I’m wrong,” she added more softly.

  The commander watched her in silence while she spoke. When she had finished, he looked her up and down and then turned away.

  “Right,” he said to his companions, as if nothing had happened. “Let’s get goin’. Ye, run back an’ tell ’em t’open the gate. Ye there-Southerner-get them ox movin’. I want that cart inside before the Night God wakes. C’mon, hurry it up!”

  The men sprang into action. Laela, for her part, stayed where she was, still holding the sword and the bag of money. Nobody went near her, and the commander, busy ordering his men around, paid her no more attention.

  Slowly, laboriously, the gate rose on its chains. When it was high enough and the signal had been given, the cart moved forward again.

  Laela followed it. Nobody tried to stop her.

  They passed through the gateway and into a big open area with curving stone walls on two sides and another gate in front. There the cart came to a stop, and a group of Northerners-including some women-began to unload its contents while the commander argued with the driver over prices.

  Laela stood to one side, expecting to be attacked at any moment. Nobody paid her any attention.

  Finally, when the cart was all but empty and the driver had collected his money, the gate opened again, and the oxen did a clumsy turn and began to walk back out the way they had come. Laela watched, not knowing if she should stay or follow.

  “Where d’ye think yer goin’, girl?” said the commander’s voice from behind her.

  Laela turned and silently offered him the bag of money.

  He ignored it and ushered her toward the other gate. It stayed closed, but there was another, far smaller door set into the stonework beside it. The commander opened it.

  “Go,” he said, gesturing to the landscape on the other side.

  Laela tried to put the bag into his hands. “Here,” she said. “Payment, like I promised.”

  He pushed it back toward her. “Keep it,” he said. “I get paid plenty.”

  Laela looked suspiciously at him. “Why are yeh lettin’ me through then, if yeh ain’t takin’ the money?”

  He straightened up. “The North’s a home for warriors, girl, not traders. I dunno if ye’ll find a home there, but ye’ll need that money. An’ maybe ye’ve got Southern blood in ye, but ye’ve acted like a darkwoman, an’ that’s enough for me.”

  Very slowly, Laela refastened the string around the neck of the bag and stowed it away again. “Thanks.”

  The commander smiled very slightly at her. “Go on,” he said. “An’ good luck, Laela.”

  Laela glanced at him and stepped through the door. Into the North.

  3

  Malvern

  She travelled toward Malvern though she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because it was the nearest city, or perhaps because it was the seat of the King. She didn’t have a plan, and Malvern seemed like the best place to go, so that was where she went.

  Travelling in the North was far more difficult than it had been in the South. The road to Malvern was wide
and well-marked, but there was virtually nobody else on it. Nobody, therefore, to beg or purchase a ride from. Nobody to trade with. Nobody to tell her if she was going in the right direction.

  Under the circumstances, she did the only thing she could: She kept doggedly following the road, hoping to find someone or something that could help her.

  Eventually, with her food running low, she came across what looked like abandoned farmland. Crops were growing wild, and she spent some time picking whatever looked edible before she moved on.

  Finally, after nearly a solid week of walking, she came across her first village.

  She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting a Northern village to look like, but now she saw one, she felt vaguely disappointed to discover it was barely any different from any farming community in the South.

  But the people were different.

  Laela walked through the main street, heart pounding, waiting for someone to single her out.

  Nobody did. She garnered a few curious stares, but nobody shouted at her, nobody came up to accost her. There were no jeers or insults.

  Laela felt all her anxiety drain away. Thank Gryphus, she had been right. She could blend in with these people.

  Her confidence soaring, she approached a farmer busy unloading a cart.

  “What d’ye want?” he asked-impatient but not hostile.

  “I’m tryin’ t’get to Malvern,” she said, careful not to look him in the eye. “Could yeh give me directions?”

  The farmer looked curiously at her. “I ain’t heard an accent like that before-where’re ye from?”

  “Nowhere yeh’d know,” said Laela. “But I want t’get to Malvern. Just tell me if I’m goin’ the right way.”

  “Well, the main road leadin’ out of here goes straight there,” said the farmer. “Just keep followin’ it an’ ye’ll be at Malvern’s gates in the end.”

  “How far is it?” said Laela. “I’m on foot.”

  “On foot!” the farmer repeated. “Ye gods. Ye’ll be lucky to make it there in two months, girl.”

  Her heart sank. “D’yeh know how I could get there faster, then?”

  The farmer scratched his nose. “If ye see anyone goin’ in that direction, ye could try an’ hitch a lift, or ye could buy a horse if ye had the money. . it’s playin’ with fire, takin’ horses into Malvern, mind.”

  “Why?” said Laela.

  “The place is swarmin’ with griffins, ain’t it?” said the farmer. “An’ we all know how much they like horses.”

  Laela hadn’t heard of this. “Er. .”

  “Griffins hate horses,” the farmer told her. “Mostly they kill the things on sight. Ye know, I heard this old story once how there was unicorns in Cymria once, but the griffins wiped ’em out.”

  “Oh,” said Laela. “I never knew that. Can’t ride, anyway.”

  “Well, I’ll tell ye what,” said the farmer. “Tomorrow I’m headin’ off on a jaunt northward meself. I might be willin’ to give ye a ride on the cart if ye can pay.”

  “I can,” Laela said promptly. “An’ I’ll pay yeh extra t’let me sleep in yer barn.”

  “How much?” said the farmer.

  “Ten oblong for the ride, an’ ten more for the barn,” she said.

  “Done,” said the farmer. “My name’s Mawrth, by the way.”

  “Laela,” she said.

  She handed over the money-keeping ten oblong back in case he decided to change his mind the next day.

  “Thankye kindly,” said Mawrth. “I’ll give ye some food, too.”

  Laela smiled. “Thanks.”

  “Well, it ain’t every day I meet a lady as attractive as yerself,” said Mawrth. “No need t’look so surprised-I mean it! Ye don’t need t’be so shy, girl.”

  Laela, keeping her eyes on the ground, blushed. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “Can yeh show me where the barn is?”

  Her new friend obliged, and she settled down into the straw very gratefully. It was good to have something close to a proper bed again.

  She slept, and dreamt of her father. He was trying to tell her something, but there was a scream in the air that made his voice impossible to hear.

  Mawrth was as good as his word. The next day, his cart rattled out of the village, and Laela found herself riding on the driver’s seat rather than on the back, which was piled high with cabbages, while her host, apparently oblivious to her nervousness, made cheerful conversation.

  “. . an’ they say that in Malvern, the King himself comes t’celebrate the Wolf Moon every month. I heard once the priests tried t’conduct a funeral for a friend of his without tellin’ him, an’ he showed up halfway through, punched the High Priestess in the face, an’ then finished the rites himself.”

  Laela wanted to look him in the face, but forced herself not to. “Have yeh ever seen the King?”

  “Once,” said Mawrth. “Not up close, mind. I was there when he announced that he was lettin’ traders come in from Amoran.”

  “What was it like?” said Laela. “What was he like?”

  Mawrth paused to wipe his nose on the back of his sleeve. “He looked ordinary, mostly. Young, but old. Wore a black robe, like a slave would. It’s said he never wears anythin’ else. An’ he had the Mighty Skandar with him, of course.”

  “The Mighty. . you mean the griffin?”

  “Aye. The dark griffin. ‘Darkheart,’ some call him. By the moon, but that was a sight t’scare any man. I’ve seen griffins. Not up close, but I’ve seen ’em. But the Mighty Skandar is the biggest I ever saw in my life. They say he’s killed more people than any griffin in the world, an’ that his magic is so powerful, it could kill a whole army in one go. They say,” he added darkly, “they say he eats people. Enemies of the King.”

  Laela shivered. “People’re scared of him. The King, too.”

  “’Course they are,” said Mawrth. “Ye’d have t’be an idiot not t’be. But they protect us, Laela. See? They might be scary t’some, but without them, we’d be lost. It’s thanks t’them we’re free, an’ it’s thanks t’them we stay free, too. The Southerners outnumber us, but they’d never dare invade again. They’re too scared to, after what Skandar an’ the King did to their friends here all them years ago. An’ it’s a damn good thing, too.”

  Laela frowned to herself. It was odd to hear the King, who in the South was always spoken of with fear and hatred, referred to as a heroic protector. But, she supposed, it only made sense, after all. .

  She travelled with Mawrth for nearly a week, and by the end of it she had come to like him. It was almost sad to say goodbye.

  “Good luck, Laela,” he said as he pocketed her money. “I hope ye find the new home ye’re lookin’ for.”

  She couldn’t stop herself from looking him in the face at last. “Thanks for everythin’, Mawrth. Yeh were a good friend.”

  Mawrth nodded and smiled. “It was my pleasure.”

  Laela walked away from his cart. He hadn’t shown any sign of noticing her blue eyes. Maybe he just hadn’t seen them. But then, who noticed the colour of someone’s eyes?

  That part of her journey didn’t just bring her much closer to Malvern-it also gave her even more confidence.

  And it showed her that her belief had been correct: Here in the North, she could blend in. Here, people treated her like an ordinary person-some of them were even friendly. Here she could make a new life-she knew it.

  Her belief was confirmed over the next few weeks as a combination of money and the kindness of strangers made her journey quicker and easier. In one of the larger towns she passed through, she bought a new set of clothes-made in the thicker, warmer Northern manner. She even went so far as to enjoy a drink or two in a tavern, and aside from the usual drunken leering, no-one molested her.

  By the time Malvern’s walls came in sight, she had all but lost her fear. In fact, she had come to love the North. She had barely been there any time at all, but it already felt like home. Even her misery over her father had begun
to leave her. He would be happy to know that she was safe, and that thought cheered her up.

  And then, at last. . Malvern.

  She chose to go on foot for the last leg of the journey, wanting to see the famed city for the first time on her own. This was an experience she wanted all to herself.

  It was bigger, far bigger, than she had expected. At first it looked like a black blob, squatting on the horizon, but as she drew nearer and nearer, she began to get an idea of how enormous it really was.

  The city had walls around it, as she’d expected. They were enormous, built from stone, and she could see guards patrolling along its top-tiny from that height. But beyond the wall were the five towers of the royal Eyrie, rearing into the sky.

  They looked like ordinary griffiner towers, but. . huge. Laela could see the openings in their sides and the banners flying from the tops. The towers varied in size-the one in the centre was the thickest and tallest. She could see what looked like bridges connecting them to each other.

  The city gates were open, and travellers were passing in and out of them apparently unimpeded. Laela strode through, unnoticed.

  So this was the big city.

  She wandered through the streets with no particular destination in mind, staring in wonder at everything she saw. In most ways it was no different from the smaller towns she had already seen. . but so full, and so busy! The streets were simply packed-people were everywhere, walking in all directions. She had never seen so many people in one place. All of them, of course, were Northerners, and for the first time in her life, Laela felt like she was just a face in the crowd. Everywhere she looked were people with black hair. Wonderful, ordinary black hair. Long fingers, angular features, a tall and long-limbed build. . the features that had once singled her out, made her an outsider wherever she went. . here they were normal.

  Exultation filled her.

  Like one in a dream, she wandered the streets, going wherever she pleased. She found the marketplace and spent a few oblong on trinkets before her empty stomach brought her back to the present. She bought an apple and a few pastries from a stall and ate them as she walked along. But the gathering darkness quickly reminded her of her original plan. Find a job, and somewhere to stay, and quickly.