by Jayne Castel
“Aye,” Dain replied, his face grim. “You wouldn’t want him set loose on the world again.”
“But it happened so long ago.” Lilia reached up and found herself gripping the stone tight through her blouse, its rounded edge digging into her palm.
She suppressed a shudder. Despite the presence of an Altar of Umbra in each settlement across the land, and the offerings folk left for the servants of the shadows at Winter Blood, it was easy to believe that the story of The Shadow King was a myth. The creatures that had once marched with him, shifters and shadow creatures, had disappeared. Shifters had been hunted to near extinction, and shadow creatures now lived in hiding, deep in woods and mountain valleys. They mostly shunned the brightly-lit towns and villages of Serran.
Valgarth wasn’t part of the world that Lilia had been born into.
“Surely he couldn’t survive five-hundred years locked under the mountains,” Lilia whispered.
“His prison has rendered him immortal,” Ryana reminded them, her voice subdued. “He’ll still be there, waiting.”
12
Running with the Dawn
They left the tavern with the first blush of dawn.
Lilia followed the others outdoors. A crisp breeze feathered her face, a brisk northerly. The sky was indigo, that unique shade between night and daybreak, before the sun lightened the sky. Night had barely slipped away.
Lilia, Dain, and Ryana followed Saul through the slumbering village and up a steep, rock-studded hill. Reaching the top, Lilia stopped and looked back. To the east, the sky was starting to turn gold. She looked down at the shadowed, slumbering valley of Moss Hollow below. The houses, still cloaked in darkness, appeared huddled together, as if for protection. There was no sign of life, no lights in their windows, or smoke drifting skyward from their roofs. Lilia’s gaze traveled south.
It was then that she noticed a faint glow coming from the direction of Woody End. She stared at it, not sure what she was looking at, before she realized the light was coming from the flickering flames of many torches held aloft.
“Wait,” she called out to the others, her voice traveling farther than she had anticipated in the quiet of the early dawn. “To the south … look.”
Saul whipped round, scowling, and came striding back toward her. He looked annoyed, but when he saw the light in the distance, his expression changed. Saul swore and glanced over to where Dain and Ryana stood, their faces wary.
“They’ve found us sooner than I thought,” Saul growled. With that, he whirled, his leather cloak billowing out behind him. “Run!”
Lilia fled along the ridge next to Dain. Saul led the way with Ryana bringing up the rear. Saul took them down the other side toward a wide valley still partly clad in darkness. Lilia stumbled her way down the hill, slipping on the grass, which was wet with dew.
Ahead of them, Saul ran fast, his long legs eating up the ground. It was a struggle not to be left behind. They climbed one more hill before dipping down into another valley, this one rock-studded with a brook trickling through its center. The next hill was higher than those they had already climbed, and at the top Saul paused a moment. Breathing hard, he turned and cast his gaze back the way they’d come.
“They run like wolves,” he rasped. “At this rate we won’t reach the boat.”
“Then we need to move faster,” Ryana panted. “If they get their hands on the other part of The King Breaker, we’re all finished.” Her face was flushed from exertion.
Lilia chanced a look back and instantly regretted it. A dark cluster of figures, their outlines illuminated by pitch torches, spilled over the edge of a hill. There were more of them than she had realized, and although they were still three valleys back, they were gaining fast.
The four of them resumed their flight, fear giving their feet wings. Sweat coursed down Lilia’s face, neck, and back. Yet she did not look over her shoulder again.
They crested another hill, and Lilia spied the rooftops of a village up ahead and the rippling waters of the sea. Although she had never visited it, Lilia knew this must be Wellwash, the fishing settlement where Saul’s boat awaited.
They flew down the hillside, picking up speed as they descended. Behind her, Lilia heard a faint rumble like the thunder of an approaching storm. Her blood chilled when the baying of hounds cut through the dawn.
Terror gripped her by the throat. They’ll catch us.
Heat washed over her then, a warning of what was to come. Shoving back the fear, Lilia focused on what lay before her. She couldn’t let terror get hold, or she’d shift for sure.
A patchwork of fields filled with kale and turnips covered the lower slopes. They ran down the narrow track between the vegetable patches, their feet beating out a tattoo on the hard-packed earth, their breathing now coming in ragged gasps.
They fled through the village. The cobbled streets were still deserted at this hour; even the fishermen had not yet ventured from their homes to begin their day’s work. On the other side of the village, a rickety wood pier stretched out a thin finger into the glittering sea.
A battered assortment of fishing vessels bobbed against the quay, the stiff breeze causing them to nudge the wooden dock. Saul flew along the wharf, leaping over coils of oiled rope and wooden crayfish crates. Peering ahead, Lilia saw he was making for a small sloop tied up at the far end. Sleek, with its single mast piercing the lightening sky, the craft appeared out of place amongst the peeling, salt-scrubbed fishing boats.
A sob of relief rose in Lilia’s throat—never had a sight been so welcome.
Saul leaped onboard and started untying the rope that kept the sloop moored to the pier.
Ryana halted and turned to look back the way they had come. “Get onboard,” she ordered Dain and Lilia.
Not needing further encouragement, they leaped over the edge of the sloop and scrambled out of Saul’s way.
Lilia looked at where Ryana stood, her posture proud, her face fierce. She was staring back at where the thundering of booted feet, the caterwauling of hunting dogs, approached.
“Do something!” Saul shouted at her.
Ryana tore off her gloves and tucked them away. Then she ducked her head, murmuring words under her breath. Lilia watched as she swept her right hand before her, summoning her power.
East, toward the mainland, Lilia could see the sun slipping over the edge of the horizon. Its light slid like molten honey across the sea. However, Wellwash still lay in shadow, a headland to the east preventing the sunlight from reaching it for a few moments more.
Lilia watched the dark patches around the enchanter, the shadows that surrounded her, dance to life. The sight caused Lilia’s breathing to stop for a moment. She’d never seen the darkness dance.
She craned her neck up, following the line of the jetty back to the village. Her breathing hitched when she saw the first of the men and their muscular hounds reach the docks. There were a handful of them up front, their cloaks flapping. Some of them had drawn short fighting knives, the blades gleaming dully in the half-light.
“Ryana, hurry!” Lilia gasped. It was almost too late.
The shadows skittered toward Ryana like scuttling insects, forming a chattering swarm about her as she whipped them up into a frenzy. She then thrust her hands forward. Her boiling shadows rose up to form a wall and surged down the pier to intersect The Brotherhood.
Meanwhile, Saul had released the sloop from the dock, and he and Dain were untying the mainsail and the jib from the mast. The boat started to drift away from the jetty. Howls erupted farther down the wharf; Ryana’s clawing wall of shadows had met the first of their pursuers.
“Jump!” Lilia shouted at Ryana.
She did as bid—but barely made it. Lilia caught hold of her hand as she landed, only just preventing her from toppling backward off the stern into the water.
The sloop drifted farther away from the edge of the dock, although not fast enough for Lilia’s liking. They were moving with agonizing slowness. She c
rouched on the stern next to Ryana, her gaze riveted on the wooden pier. The howls grew louder, and the thumps and crashes of a struggle ensued.
“It’s just a diversion,” Ryana informed her grimly. “My shadows won’t hold them for long.”
Lilia glanced at her, heart hammering. She hoped that wasn’t the case.
Warmth rose in her chest once more, filtering out across her shoulders. She clenched her jaw. No … not now.
Once the sloop had cleared the dock, it slowly turned to face the wind. At this point, Saul and Dain frantically worked to hoist the sails: first the mainsail, and then the jib.
The brisk breeze caught in the mainsail making it flap, before Saul started to trim it. Moments later the sail billowed, and they sailed west, beam reach.
At that moment The Shade Brotherhood broke through the wall of shadow and surged up the pier.
Lilia watched them pound up to where the sloop had been moored just a short while earlier but—thanks to Ryana—they were too late.
The sloop was now at least ten yards away and gaining speed.
Their irate shouts drifted out across the water. A couple of men drew long bows and shot flaming arrows at their quarry.
“Get to the bow,” Saul shouted as one of the arrows whistled past Lilia’s shoulder and embedded in the deck. He stamped out the flames with a booted foot, ducking as another shot past him.
Lilia and Ryana obeyed. They huddled at the bow, watching more arrows rain down from the sky. Most of them fell, hissing, into the sea. Their luck held as none of the arrows hit the sails, or Saul and Dain, who did their best to steer the sloop out into the open sea.
Soon, Wellwash’s rickety jetty shrank to the size of a toothpick in the distance. Lilia could still see the seething crowd gathered there. For a few moments she worried that they would simply commandeer one of the fishing skiffs or barges that lined the pier. However, none of the craft appeared swift enough to catch this one.
Eventually, satisfied they were safe for the moment, Lilia tore her gaze from the shore and sank back against the railing, weak with relief.
Saul sailed them west, and then south around the edge of Orin. The wind grew stronger, sending a salty spindrift over them, while the sky lightened and morning spread over the green hills of the isle to the east.
Lilia watched Saul navigate the boat. He hadn’t glanced her way since leaving the pier, his handsome face stern with concentration.
Dain assisted Saul. Even so, there was no warmth on Dain’s face when he spoke to Saul or took orders from him. The two men barely tolerated each other, but their common need to be safely away from Orin had united them for the moment.
Lilia and Ryana kept out of the way. The pitching of the sloop, as it rode each swell, was starting to make Lilia feel queasy. To distract herself, she turned her attention upon Ryana. The woman was staring at the passing headland, a distant look on her face.
“What you did back there …” she began hesitantly, “it was incredible.”
Ryana turned her steel-blue gaze on Lilia and gave her a thin smile. “I haven’t gathered the Dark in a while,” she admitted. “I was a bit rusty.”
Lilia studied her face. “You saved us.”
Ryana’s smile widened. “It was pretty exciting, eh?”
Lilia grimaced. “That’s one way of describing it.”
The sloop bucked as it rode a large swell, and both women clung onto the rail to prevent being tossed overboard into the sea. The wind whipped a tendril of hair across Lilia’s face, stinging her eyes.
“Enjoying yourselves?”
Lilia glanced up to see Dain, his face flushed from exertion and the stinging wind, sit down next to her.
“Aye,” Ryana replied, “and letting the men get on with their work.”
Dain pulled a face. “Saul has everything under control. He doesn’t need my help.”
Indeed, Saul didn’t appear to be having any trouble steering the sloop southeast. The emerald green Isle of Orin was drawing back toward the northern horizon. She turned her gaze away from the receding headland and caught Dain watching her.
“Are you well?” he asked. “It was a close thing back there.”
Lilia shook her head and managed a wan smile. “Well enough, if this boat can just keep still.”
She leaned against the railing and tried to give herself up to the sloop’s pitch and roll. The nausea got worse when she tried to fight it. Ryana and Dain had both fallen silent, each lost in their own thoughts.
They were now out in the open sea, with no land visible in any direction. Suddenly, her world, which had once been so tiny, felt limitless. There was nothing but glistening swells of water and a vast sky.
Lilia remembered how she used to steal into her father’s study and gaze at the maps of Serran on the wall. He had detailed maps of all the four kingdoms: Rithmar, Thûn, Anthor, and Farras—even one of the barren wastes north of the Shadefell Mountains. She’d imagined great adventures: traveling through the highlands of Rithmar, sailing on the vast lakes of Thûn, visiting the glittering cities of Anthor, and trekking into the steamy rainforests of Farras.
She was going to see some of the places she’d always dreamed of, including Idriss—the busy port city that lay just across The Wash.
Lilia’s belly fluttered with anxiety. This wasn’t how she’d imagined visiting the mainland: on the run with nothing but the clothes on her back.
Her gaze shifted from the watery horizon to where Saul trimmed the main sail. His back was to her for a moment, so she was able to study him unobserved.
She hated to admit it, but he was as devastatingly attractive as he’d been the day they met at The Grey Anchor—only now she knew the truth of things. She couldn’t trust him.
Sensing her stare, Saul turned. His gaze met hers and held for a few moments, then he flashed her a smile. Lilia tore her gaze away, cursing herself for the heat that rose in her cheeks. He might be a liar, but he was a handsome one.
13
Across the Wash
Lilia’s first glimpse of Idriss was of a great, flat-topped, purple mountain looming over a wide bay. Even at this distance, she could see that the mountain dwarfed all other landmarks around it. The city had been etched into the sheer, rocky slopes: multiple tiers linked by zig-zagging stairways. Two edifices crowned the extinct volcano: a long crenelated fortress of dark basalt on the northern edge of the top tier, and a great tower at the southern end.
The sight of the city caused Lilia to gape. She was so entranced by it that she didn’t notice Saul step up next to her at the bow. “Mount Velar is quite a sight, isn’t it?” he commented. Lilia nodded; the volcanic cone made the mountains of her island look like hillocks.
“What are those two buildings?” she asked, forgetting her earlier resolve to be wary of him.
“That’s the Great Library of Idriss to the north and the Tower of the Over-Lord to the south,” he replied.
“Spent some time in Idriss, have you?” Dain asked from behind them. Lilia turned to see him watching them closely.
Saul flashed a grin over his shoulder at Dain. “Aye … the dicing is good here.”
“Why does a princeling need to dice?” Dain asked. “Surely your father gives you an allowance.”
Saul laughed. “He does, but where’s the fun in that? I enjoying parting fools from their coin.”
They sailed into port across a busy harbor. Ferry barges and fishing boats crossed the wide Bay of Idriss, their sails snapping in the breeze. The day had started off as windy but clear, however, as noon approached the sky had turned overcast and the spring wind had a chill to it.
Dain recognized the old ferry that passed by on their way in. It was the one traveling to the Isle of Orin—The Sea Horse—the old, weather-beaten barge he had seen countless times sliding into the docks at Port Needle.
The sight of it reminded him of all he’d left behind. He’d not shown it in front of the others, but the fact he’d run out on his parents witho
ut even a word bothered him. He’d always felt a responsibility toward The Grey Anchor, which was why he’d not joined the Port Guard. Yet here he was leagues from home. His mother would be frantic, his father furious.
I’ll explain it all to them when I get home, he promised himself. However, the promise sounded hollow. He had no idea where this journey would lead him, or when he’d return to Port Needle.
A massive wooden pier thrust out from the docks into the harbor. The odor of tarred rope, fish, and brine wafted out to greet the sloop, accompanied by the cry of gulls and the shouts of men working on the docks.
Saul guided the sloop into port and moored her at the end of a jetty for pleasure boats. The vessel bumped as the stern nudged gently against the pier, and the four of them disembarked.
While they waited for Saul to tie up the boat, his companions stood looking around at the industry of Idriss’s docks. Men heaved crates, coiled ropes, and wheeled supplies up gang planks into the waiting merchant vessels. The vibrancy of this place made Dain’s skin prickle. He’d waited his whole life to cross The Wash and see the mainland. His first impressions of Idriss didn’t disappoint.
Dain’s gaze then flicked to Lilia. She was glancing around, her dark eyes huge as she took in her surroundings.
He’d never have let her come here on her own. Not with Saul and Ryana as companions. He couldn’t stand Saul, and although he’d always liked Ryana, he was now wary of her. She’d been open with them about her past, but in doing so had made him doubt her character. All the years she’d visited the inn, she’d been wearing a mask. Who was to say she wasn’t still wearing one?
Saul joined them, hoisting a pack onto his shoulder, his gaze resting upon Lilia’s face. “Where to now?” he asked.
The question irritated Dain. He saw what Saul was doing, pretending to defer to Lilia when all he wanted was the stone about her neck.
