by Jayne Castel
Steep wooded slopes rose up either side of the road, forcing the army to narrow and extend at various points, the flanks pressing close. The Highlands surrounded the capital in all directions for many leagues, spreading out from the city like a rumpled blanket and providing a natural barrier from invaders.
Up ahead, Dain could see the king’s banner, hanging limp as it was a windless day. Nathan rode at the front of the main army, although Captain Garick had gone ahead with the bulk of the horsemen to form the vanguard half a league farther on.
Dain wondered how far they’d have to travel before the mountains pulled back. He’d heard that the northern territories of Rithmar were sparsely inhabited and bleak. The northern edge of the Highlands merged into spreading swamps, and after that it rose into rolling, bleak moors. He remembered seeing a map of the area once and recalled there was a vast lake to the north, shaped like a slightly misshapen kidney. Harrowmere—that was its name.
Deep in thought, Dain marched alongside men he didn’t know. There was little in the way of conversation around him—like him, the other soldiers were preparing themselves for what lay ahead, or perhaps thinking of those they’d left behind.
Casting a glance over his shoulder, Dain strained to catch sight of the convoy of wagons in the rearguard. However, the mist was too thick; he couldn’t see farther than a few yards back.
A horn blew up ahead, the mournful sound drifting down the valley, signaling that the army would take a brief rest. Around him, men grunted in relief, some of them chatting amongst themselves for the first time all morning, as they opened their packs and pulled out travel rations. Many sat down at the roadside to eat.
Yet Dain couldn’t rest. He slipped out of the ranks and walked back along the road, threading his way through crowds of soldiers. He’d never seen so many men together in one place. He wasn’t sure how big the army was, but from where he stood, it looked as if they were a thousand strong at least. The rumble of men’s voices echoed off the sides of the valley.
Dain broke into a jog. He needed to get back to the rearguard, before the army moved on. He hadn’t seen Asher since setting out and wondered how the enchanter would manage to find him in this chaos.
I need to find Lilia.
A short while later he’d almost reached the first of the wagons, when the thud of hoof beats behind him made Dain turn. Asher rode up, astride a fine grey stallion, along the muddied verge. “There you are,” he greeted Dain brusquely. “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”
Dain looked up at him, noting the tension on the enchanter’s face. Asher was risking much to help them. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever find me. Are we close?”
Asher nodded. “Follow me.”
The convoy of supply wagons were tightly packed so Asher was forced to dismount and lead his horse through their midst. He led Dain to a wagon covered by a blue tarpaulin. Drawn by two heavy bay horses, the wagon sat in the midst of the convoy. A young man sat up front, eating his noon meal of salted meat and bread. He watched Asher curiously as he approached.
“What do you want?”
Asher reached into a pouch at his waist and extracted a silver talent. He passed the shiny coin up to the lad, who grasped it eagerly, his eyes widening. “What’s that for?”
“You never saw us here,” Asher said gently. “Understand?”
The young man stared down at him a moment before realization dawned, and he nodded.
Asher and Dain walked on, a few steps more. Then the enchanter halted, passed the reins to Dain, and began to untie the edge of the tarpaulin.
Dain leaned close, whispering. “Can you trust him not to say anything?”
“I don’t know,” Asher admitted before favoring him with a half-smile. “Silver usually buys a man’s silence. Besides, like the rest of us, he’s got bigger things to worry about.”
Lilia stretched, pushed back her hood slightly, and raised her face to the day. It wasn’t much of a day—the fog still hung low overhead—but it was a welcome sight after hours trapped inside the wagon.
Relief suffused her. They’d made it out of The Royal City at least. The further north they got, the less likely it was that anyone would care if they discovered stowaways. Already, she could sense the nervousness around her, the anticipation of what lay ahead.
“Better?”
Lilia finished her stretch and glanced across at where Dain leaned against the wagon, watching her. “Aye.” Now that she’d emptied her bladder and stretched out her cramped limbs, she was able to concentrate on other things again.
He stepped close, his hand tracing the line of her jaw. His eyes were deep-blue, the color of a summer’s sky just before sunset. His nearness caused Lilia’s pulse to quicken. She wanted to melt into his arms, to kiss him, but she was aware that they weren’t alone.
Ryana and Asher stood a couple of feet away, next to a grey horse. They weren’t focused on Dain and Lilia—their heads bent close together as they talked in low voices—yet Lilia felt exposed here in the midst of the convoy of wagons. She could hear the rumble of male voices nearby, soldiers conversing while they finished their noon meal.
Fortunately, where they stood, the wagons concealed Lilia and Dain from view. The wagon driver appeared to be turning a blind eye too.
Lilia knew she should worry about being seen, yet the relief to be out of the wagon had made her reckless.
A horn blew once more, its wail stretching down the valley in a lonely call.
Dain cursed under his breath. “So soon.”
Lilia winced. “I suppose the king’s anxious to make up for lost time.”
“I know, but we’ve hardly seen each other.”
Lilia stepped close to him, her hand resting upon the leather breastplate of his armor. The soldier’s attire suited him, accentuating the width of his shoulders. “We’ll see each other after dark. Asher’s going to try and get a tent to himself and smuggle Ryana and me inside.”
Dain nodded, reaching out and cupping her face with his hands. “Till tonight then.”
He leaned in and kissed her, his mouth moving hungrily over hers. Lilia stifled a groan of need, her lips parting under his. Now she’d given in to her attraction to this man, she was greedy for him.
The sound of a throat clearing behind them yanked Lilia back to her surroundings. Breathless, she pulled back from Dain and glanced over his shoulder at where Asher and Ryana waited.
They were both smiling.
“Enough of that.” Asher stepped back, still grinning, and gestured to the wagon. “Time to move on.”
Inside the cramped space, it seemed even darker and more claustrophobic than earlier. Yet Lilia tried to ignore her discomfort. Half the day’s journey was over—she’d get out again after dark. She’d see Dain soon.
The wagon lurched into motion, throwing the two women against each other. Lilia grappled for the edge of a crate and righted herself. Beside her, she heard Ryana shifting around in an attempt to get comfortable.
After a few moments Ryana spoke, her voice wry. “I see much has changed since I was thrown down the Vault.”
“It has,” Lilia admitted, suddenly embarrassed and glad Ryana couldn’t see her face properly in the dim interior. There was a brief pause, before Ryana spoke again, her tone gentler. “I’m happy for you … he’s a good man.”
Lilia felt her cheeks warm. She wasn’t used to having these kind of conversations. She’d always kept herself apart from other women and missed out on the easy camaraderie many shared. “He is,” she admitted, “although it took me too long to see it.”
Ryana laughed. “He hides that soft heart of his well.”
“I think it had more to do with my own blindness,” Lilia murmured.
They lapsed into silence for a short while, and when Ryana spoke once more, her voice was tense. “I’m sorry how I responded to you when I realized you were a shifter … I was callous.”
Lilia huffed. “You reacted better than most people have.”
/> “I’m sorry too, for using you,” Ryana continued. “Desperation gave me tunnel-vision. I wish I hadn’t done that.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered anyway,” Lilia replied with a sigh. “Saul was always going to betray me.”
“I hope you hurt the bastard.” Ryana’s voice turned hard.
“Aye … I savaged his arm. If he hasn’t bled to death, it’ll be infected by now.”
Remembering the threat Saul had made her before leaping out the window, Lilia hoped that Saul of Anthor no longer breathed.
The Rithmar Army camped at the bottom of a wide vale, shortly before nightfall.
There had been no sign of shadow creatures during the day, but as soon as dusk stretched its fingers across the land, the air changed. The odor of hot iron drifted across the encampment, as if there was a smith’s forge nearby. The wooded sides of the vale erupted with chatters, shrieks, and howls.
The cracking of twigs and the rustling of undergrowth reached the edges of the camp where Asher was organizing the first watch.
His gaze narrowed as he looked out into the gloaming at the dark shapes moving in the trees at the top of the rise.
Behind him, the noise of the army making camp was almost deafening; it was chaos with so many men and horses packed in so close. For safety, the troops bunched tightly together. The vanguard, main army, flanks, and rearguard all crammed into one area so that the Enchanters of the Light could form a perimeter around the encampment.
The camp would need protecting on the journey north. Fire and steel weren’t enough—the army needed enchantment. Tomorrow Irana would rally those of the Dark to raise a shadow net around the camp, but tonight it was Asher’s task.
Smoke from cook fires drifted up throughout the camp, merging with the cap of low cloud overhead. Even though it was not yet dark, the enchanters nearby stood next to flaming torches, which had all been driven into the damp earth. All the wards were in place; Asher had set out enchanters around ten yards apart, the furthest distance he’d risk in order to keep the perimeter in place.
Asher stood back, his gaze traveling over the line of robed figures stretching either side of him. It was time to raise the light sphere. They couldn’t wait any longer.
He glanced over at the enchanter nearest to him, a tall dusky-skinned woman. “Ready to go, Helia?”
“Aye,” she replied.
“Right then … lift the sphere.”
She nodded and swept her right hand out before her, as if gathering a net. The burning torch next to her roared high into the darkening sky, creating a shimmering curtain of fire. A moment later the enchanter next to Helia did the same, and then the next, and the next. One by one, the veil of fire lifted around the encampment, sealing all within.
Asher remained until the sphere was completely in place, before he checked the wards once more.
When he strode back along the line a while later, Helia met his eye. “It’s keeping the shadow creatures at bay,” she informed him. Her face was taut with the effort it was taking to hold the sphere in place. “Although, they’re more aggressive than in the south.”
“They will be,” Asher replied. He peered through the sphere, at the dark shapes that boiled around it. “With every league north, we’re getting closer to their master.” He turned his attention back to Helia. “Good work … I’ll return with the others at midnight to take the next watch.”
35
Day’s End
Lilia looked out through her tiny window—a gap in the tarpaulin—her gaze traveling over a landscape of yellowed grass and blackened, stunted trees. It was four days since they’d left the capital, and the lofty peaks of the Rithmar Highlands now lay far to the south. Thankfully, they had also left the stinking, midge-infested marshes behind, although the empty moors that followed were hardly welcoming. The Great Road currently cut a path through rolling downs of wind-seared grass.
“What a depressing place,” she murmured.
Ryana shifted next to her, awakening from a fitful doze. “Aye, the northern territories of Rithmar are known for their bleakness. This was once the domain of The Shadow King; his fortress Dûn Maras lies north of here on the shores of Harrowmere … I imagine we’re drawing close to the lake now.”
Lilia peered through the gap. The wagon had just crested the top of one of the hills, and she caught a glimpse of sparkling water to the northeast.
“That must be it,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”
Ryana gave a soft laugh. “Did your parents not tell you the legend about Harrowmere when you were a child?”
Lilia turned from gazing outside. “No … what of it?”
“The story goes that Harrowmere was formed by the tears of a lonely princess.”
“Really?”
“Aye … beautiful Princess Harrow once lived with her people in the foothills of the Shadefell Mountains. Suitors came from all over Serran, hoping to win her hand, but she showed no interest in any of them. Instead she fell in love with a goatherd … much to her father’s fury. The king would not have his daughter wed a man so lowborn, so he forced the young man to join his army and go off to war far to the south. Harrow waited for her lover’s return, but he never did. When she finally realized he was dead, she wept a lake of tears in grief.”
Lilia turned back to the view. Despite the drab weather and chill breeze, the lake shone like polished steel. She reflected on the story for a moment. There was so much sorrow in the world.
Swiveling around, and leaning her back against the wooden crate behind her, Lilia cast a glance in Ryana’s direction. “We’ve been traveling together for weeks now, but I feel I know so little about you.”
Ryana snorted. “There’s nothing to know.”
“Where are you from?”
“A village called Ridder Vale. It’s in the middle of nowhere … in the Forest of Were.”
“When did you last visit?”
“I’ve not been back there since the day I left for the House of Light and Darkness … not since I was thirteen.”
Lilia tried to imagine what it must feel like, to spend so many years apart from your family. Guilt needled her as she realized how rarely she’d thought about her Ma and Da over the past weeks. They would have heard about her disappearance and would be sick with worry for her. She pushed the remorse aside and focused on Ryana. “And your kin? Do you know how they are? Have you ever sent word?”
Ryana shook her head, her gaze guttering. “I’ve had no contact … with any of them.”
Watching her, Lilia realized that there was more to this tale. However, there was an edge to Ryana’s voice that warned her from asking the enchanter more about her family. Some subjects were best avoided.
Instead, she decided to tell Ryana a little about herself. “I know what it is to grow up in an isolated place,” she said after a pause. “I used to feel so suffocated in Shingle Ford.”
“You said neither of your parents were shifters?” Ryana asked.
“It skipped a generation. My grandmother shifted into a grey squirrel, and her father could change into a boar.” Lilia frowned. “Both of them could control their shifting … but I’ve never been able to.”
“It’s not so different to enchantment then,” Ryana replied. “None of us are born knowing how to wield it.”
“You couldn’t gather the Dark when you joined the Order?”
“Not with any control. Just like you, it responded to strong emotion, but I could never gather the Dark on purpose.”
“Was it hard … learning control?”
Ryana shrugged. “Not really.”
Excitement fluttered up under Lilia’s ribcage. “Can you show me?”
“What … now?”
“Aye.”
Ryana huffed. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. I’ve never helped a shifter before.”
“But you said yourself that enchantment and shifting is similar.”
“Very well then,” the enchanter replied with a sigh
. “I can see you’re going to nag me until I relent.”
“You’re right, I will.”
Ryana moved so that she sat cross-legged before Lilia. “Tell me … what exactly makes you shift?”
“That’s easy,” Lilia replied with a shrug. “I’m either really scared or angry.”
“And how does your body feel right before you shift?”
“Heat builds in my chest and pulses out to my limbs. After that my skin starts to crawl. Once I reach that stage, there’s no going back … that’s when I usually shift.”
Ryana nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “Fear isn’t a useful emotion, not when we’re heading into battle,” she replied. “So I think we’ll work with anger.”
“How exactly?”
“What makes you angry?”
Lilia chewed her lip, thinking on the question. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Have you ever shifted when enraged?”
Lilia nodded, going still.
“Good … recall that incident, and tell me what angered you.”
Lilia closed her eyes, remembering that youth at the pie cart in Port Needle. “Injustice,” she replied. “Cruelty.”
“Stay with that incident, relive it, Lilia … let the anger build within you.”
Lilia did as bid, recalling the young man’s sneering, gaunt face, and the way he’d mocked that old woman. Anger curled up from the pit of her belly, writhing up into her chest.
“Let the anger build,” Ryana urged. “Allow the heat to ignite in the center of your breast bone.”
Lilia’s brow furrowed, and she concentrated hard on letting the anger build to a fiery rage, the one she knew would make her shift. Moments later, she sighed, disappointment flooding through her. “Nothing’s happening.”
“Don’t be so impatient,” Ryana replied, a smile in her voice. “We’ve got hours to kill.”
Shortly before dusk, the army reached a fork in the highway. The Great Road now ran along the western shores of Harrowmere. Dark and still, despite the gusting north wind, the lake was a disquieting sight. It was so wide that Dain could not even see its eastern shore from here. Reeds grew at its pebbly edge, whispering and rippling as the wind breathed through them.
