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Heavy snow fell as Marcellus crossed the Bilrost Bridge. Although the bridge spanned nearly seventy paces across, it was thick with steady traffic that forced him to move at the pace of the masses that traveled in and out of the island. Besides an icy and almost certainly fatal swim across the choppy Bay of Lions, it was the only way to enter Avalloc, the fabled island housing the Shining City of Kaerleon.
The Bilrost was a remnant from the Age of Enlightenment when the Aelon still dwelt alongside men. It appeared as if constructed from a single unit of pure frosted glass, connected only at the ends where the bridge met the opposite landmasses. There was not a single ridge to disturb a foot or wagon wheel, and despite appearing to be slick as ice, it provided sure footing.
Nyori was wrapped in silence as she rode beside him. Her head swiveled as she took in the sight of Avalloc for the first time. Keeping her thoughts inward, she didn't voice what surely had to be wondrous to her. She had been subdued ever since an unfortunate incident on the road from Feroch when a band of marauders ambushed them. It wasn't the first time they had encountered raiding parties on the long trek back. The roads were thick with bandits taking advantage of Leodia's disarray. Nyori didn't understand that every situation couldn't be negotiated peacefully. Marcellus knew better, but somehow her soundless disapproval irritated him like an itch he couldn't scratch.
He should have heeded her warning to avoid the main road, but he had not wanted to slow down. Because of his stubbornness, men had to die. The Shama had amazing powers of perception, something he had not truly believed until she had proven herself right time and again. She had other abilities as well. What had happened in the wild...
~*~
HIS EYES SNAPPED OPEN. Light flooded his vision, and something terrible howled around him. He shielded his eyes. It took seconds to realize a massive storm rumbled all around, yet the rain didn't touch him. Lightning struck everywhere rapidly, tearing the brush and small trees apart in sizzling pieces.
Nyori stood in the midst of it all, bathed golden in the light of her upraised staff. Tiny Glyphs patterned her arms and hands, shimmering tattoos that blazed from her skin. Her face was tilted upward, her eyes closed, her face lustrous. Her hair and clothes flailed in the wind, but she didn't appear to notice. The storm raged around them, but Nyori stood undaunted as if the gale were hers to command.
Fire writhed across Marcellus' chest. He stared disbelievingly at the runes that blazed across his skin as if painted by the lightning...
~*~
MARCELLUS GAVE NYORI a sidelong glance. The cryptic characters had quickly faded from his skin and disappeared. He still wasn't sure what she had done or if much of what he'd seen had been a fever dream right before awakening. But he had been different since that moment. He rarely felt tired, and when he moved against the bandits, it was as if he sensed the storm inside of him. He flowed like the wind, faster than he ever had in his life. He felt alive as though for the first time.
Nyori hadn't explained anything except that she'd restored him to full health. When he tried to press the issue, she told him that she was forbidden to reveal the secrets of the Sha.
There wasn't much he could say to that.
A pair of Jaferians rode beside them, thick headdresses covering their heads and shoulders. Tasseled cloaks made of sheep's wool draped over their robes, and each had the customary curved scimitar strapped to their saddles. The nearest one rode a testy Barbar, who stretched out to nip at Marcellus' horse. The rider jerked the reins in time and murmured an apology.
Marcellus nodded and rode on. In his mind, he saw Shadowdancer once again, body pierced with arrows, struggling to rise...
No. I won't think of that right now. All that matters is getting home.
They passed merchant wagons from Byrthon and Jafeh, lords and ladies in their carriages from Feroch and Akaya, a train of soldiers on foot in from their patrol, and a crowd of Norlanders who roared and shouted loud enough to be heard over everything else.
Marcellus rode without notice, his face lost under his wide hood. His concentration only slipped once while passing a gleaming carriage. The entire coach was lacquered in white, even the wheels that whirred silently on the road. The windows were reflective, burnished like mirrors. A hunched, dwarfish man in a tall-brimmed hat and black livery held the reins at the seat in front of the carriage.
Marcellus stared for but a moment before he resumed his trance as the end of the bridge drew near.
Nyori did not speak, seemingly absorbed in observing the crowds. He doubted she had ever seen such a mass before. He could not help the swell of admiration that suddenly bloomed. He'd set a pace that would have wearied even the most experienced rider, yet she had not complained.
Nyori needed to rest more than he did. It took reminders from her that neither she nor the horses could match his pace. They had spent nights in the open when no town was nearby, under trees in freezing rain and snow with only a small fire and each other for warmth, huddling under the blankets. Fully clothed of course, but any other time those nights would have been distracting had his every thought not been on the journey home. He didn't know if she felt any similar discomfort. Probably not. She was from the Steppes, after all. Her people lived a different way of life.
He didn't understand why she insisted so strongly on accompanying him. It would have probably been safer with the Mandru. All she told him was that she needed to go with him to Kaerleon. She said that everything that happened to them centered around that city. When he persisted with questions, she simply told him that it was the 'certainty of knowing,' apparently another gift of the Sha that he wasn't meant to understand.
Once off the bridge, the traffic continued onward to Kingsgate, the large trade town that greeted visitors to the island. Far in the distance, he saw the towering spires of the Shining City jut against the horizon like mountain peaks. Even then, his heart was tugged toward the city he loved all his life, the city he had sworn to die protecting. There was where all the answers to his burning questions lay.
But something more important was in another location. Without hesitation, he turned off the road and plowed through the snow in the direction of Royan.
Even blanketed in white, the surrounding forest and hills were as familiar as his own face. He passed by tall spruce trees he had seen as a boy as they rode on a path where elk crossed. To his left, the snow-capped peaks of the Cannias Mountains stood strong against the white sky.
"This is where you grew up, milord?"
He was almost startled by Nyori's voice. The shadow of her wide, fur-trimmed hood almost smothered her face, but she did not seem as upset as formerly.
"These are the fields and lands owned by folk I had grown up with." He looked around. "Everything looks the same as when I left." For some reason, that gave fuel to the sputtering, flickering spark of hope in his chest.
"Nyori, I apologize for not going immediately to the Palace. But as you know, my family has not seen me in months, and what they have heard has more than likely been terrible rumors. I sent a bird from Letega, but there is no telling if it arrived. I must go to them first."
"I understand, Sir Admorran."
He turned to her. "What's wrong?"
Her face was upraised; snowflakes drifted on her brow. "What do you mean?"
"You've never called me 'Sir' before. The formality is unsettling."
Her shoulders hunched, and she suddenly appeared almost shy. "When we met in the mountains or anytime afterward ... you never told me who you are."
"I told you my name."
"You didn't tell me who you are. Divia's light! You are not just any knight—you are the knight. The Champion of Kaerleon..." She shook her head. "So many stories. There are so many tales of the things you've done, even among my people."
Marcellus shook his head dismissively. "The title or stories mean little to me. Right now, all I want to be is Marcellus the husband and father."
She looked at him with a small smile on her face. "I understand. It's just ... did you truly slay a dragon?"
Marcellus shrugged. "I cannot remember."
She swatted his arm. "You can't remember?"
"It's hard to explain. Perhaps I will share the story with you one day."
She tilted her chin high with a teasing smile. "Well, I suppose this means that I can truly boast."
"Of having met the Champion of Kaerleon?" He raised a wry eyebrow.
"No, of defeating the Champion of Kaerleon. I had you at my mercy in the Dragonspine, remember?"
Despite his anxious mood, Marcellus laughed.
They rode in silence for a while. The snow seemed thicker, as though the weather sought to forestall them. Marcellus tried to prepare himself for what lay ahead. His mind flickered between hope and despair so often that the conflict became maddening.
Finally, he spoke. "Shama, I have seen that you possess remarkable foresight into matters. If there is something I should know about what lies ahead, tell me now. Please."
He was not sure, but she seemed to pause before answering.
"What lies ahead is ... clouded." She lifted a hand as if she could touch the invisible barrier. "The more we approached Leodia, the darker the haze became. I can sense nothing of what may come. But I will be alert to whatever I can decipher, Marcellus. Do not worry."
The sky had darkened, and the wind's bite had much sharper teeth when they arrived at his holdings. They passed the cottages of the folk who worked the land. Their chimneys funneled smoke, and candles winked in some of the windows.
His heart pounded as they approached his manor, the welcome sight of white stone and blue-tiled roofing. The Silver Horn banner unfurled in the wind.
Something tickled his cheek. The tears ran unchecked for the first time in so long. The flag still flew. His House still stood, which meant his family had to be all right.
They had to be.
The horse was too slow. He leaped off its back and began a stumbling trot toward his home, where the warmth awaited him. Where the love awaited him. Nyori said something, but he could not hear her. The snow blew in his face, sought to blind him, the wind pushed against his advance. He laughed at their feeble efforts. If Stygan himself emerged from the ground in all his ebony glory, Marcellus would tear the Dreadlord to pieces.
The manor drew closer. Marcellus felt the weariness lift from his shoulders and sweep away in the wind. His feet were feathers, his arms were wings; he no longer felt the ground under his feet. He sailed like a child through a meadow, unhindered by the snowdrifts.
The heavy iron gates were unlocked. He pushed through easily and strode down the familiar granite-paved path. The blushing light in the windows beckoned; the smell of the chimney smoke perfumed the air.
A large man draped in a heavy grayish cloak walked slowly in front of them, toting a large bundle of firewood in his arms as if they were twigs. He turned, hunched in uncertainty. His beard was generously sprinkled with gray, but he dismissed the indication of age with his powerful stature.
"Who are you?" The man's deep voice was suspicious. "It is too late to come begging. Come back tomorrow."
Marcellus recognized the baldheaded, dark-brown face of the groundskeeper. Dradyn was an experienced soldier in his past, coming into the service of Lucretius late in his career. Marcellus took him in when he was retired, and the man worked for him ever since.
"It is I, Dradyn."
Dradyn jerked in recognition and immediately fell to one knee. "Lord Admorran! Long have we waited for this day! We had feared you were—"
Marcellus nodded hastily, pulling the man up. "My wife, Dradyn—my daughter. Are they all right? Are they safe?"
"We had heard so many different rumors—"
"Dradyn—my family! Are they all right?"
Dradyn nodded. "Yes, milord, they are safe. But—"
"Where, Dradyn, where are they now?"
"Why, here, milord. I have to—"
Marcellus let out the breath he hadn't realized he held. His knees almost failed him, but he managed to steady himself. "Take me to them."
"Yes, milord. But if I may—"
"Now, man. Whatever it is, can it not wait?"
Dradyn bowed his head. "Forgive me, milord. I know you are anxious to see them, and you need warmth and rest. But I must stress that we speak on the morrow. It is a matter of life and death."
Nyori had caught up at that moment. The look on her face indicated that she heard Dradyn's cryptic words. The burly groundskeeper eyed her questioningly.
"This is the Shama Nyori. She is under my escort."
Dradyn took the news as though Marcellus regularly arrived with a strange woman in tow. He quickly led them past the stone arch and into the front doors.
They passed the sitting room and went down the hall into the Great Room where Dradyn practically forced him to sit in one of the chairs. "I will bring your family right away. Lady Nyori, you may come with me." He bowed away quickly, leading Nyori to the guest rooms. She threw one anxious look over her shoulder, and then they were gone.
Marcellus heard Dradyn down the hall, clapping his hands loudly. "Awaken, everyone!" His voice reverberated along the walls. "Our lord has returned!"
Doors opened. He heard the feet of maidservants running to and fro. Lily peeked in the room and, putting her hands over her mouth with a gasp, quickly ducked back out.
Marcellus stood and paced like a caged wolf, surprised to be so nervous. When he turned, he caught his reflection in the mirror.
It was not the face he remembered. His hair and beard were disheveled and wet, his face lined with weariness and the endurance of pain. The pale scar on his cheek looked as if he'd had it since childhood. He looked much older. More strands of gray lined his temples—where had they come from? And his eyes—so cold, so piercing—he almost felt the mirror was a window where another man looked back in a puzzled manner. He was nearly sure if he reached out, he would touch the face of a stranger.
The rustle of silk disturbed his study.
He turned to see an angel. Evelina's robe was only halfway on as she ran to him with open arms. He opened his mouth, but words escaped him, choked in his throat for fear of a mirage, of waking up from a dream and finding himself back in the dungeons of Bruallia awaiting execution. He could only catch her softness as she leaped in his arms, feel the touch of feathers as her red-gold strands brushed his neck, smell the clean scent of her skin, hear her choking words of love in his ears as he clutched her tightly. The world spun and blurred, but all that mattered was in his arms.
A shrill, girlish voice screamed with joy. "Papa!" Marcellus separated slightly from his wife to scoop his daughter up. "You came back! I thought you'd be gone forever."
She wept as she gripped his neck tightly. Tears ran down his face as well. She had grown since he left; some of the baby fat thinned out. She was leaner and taller than he pictured her. Just as quickly, her tears vanished, and she tugged at his beard in her familiar way, scrunching her nose. "Your hair stinks."
He could not help but laugh.
"Yes, your father needs a good bath." Evelina smiled. "Tell the girls to get a tub ready." Alexis scurried away shouting orders, and they laughed once more. Looking into Evelina's sky-colored eyes, he knew he would never leave her alone again. He opened his mouth, but she placed a finger over his lips.
"It can wait, my love. I know you have much to say, but it can wait. All that matters for now is that you're here, safe with me, with us again. You will bathe and eat, and after you rest, you can tell me all that has happened. Come with me now." She took his hand in hers and led him into the warmth of homecoming.
Time drifted on peaceful wings as he bathed, dressed, and ate. All the while, he recounted what had happened to him, from Lucretius' betrayal to his capture and escape. He told of meeting Nyori and how she had brought him back from certain death.
"She saved my life. I knew the Shama were powerful healers, but this was something new. That staff she possessed..." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter now. Since then, all that I thought about was getting here. Getting back to you."
They reclined on a cushioned divan in an upstairs room where they often came to relax. He leaned against her bosom while she clipped his hair with a pair of scissors.
The room was adorned with elegantly carved furniture. A bust of Reynar the Frey wore a trickster's grin from its pedestal in the corner. Moonlight streamed through the set of stained-glass windows and painted the burnished coat of arms on the wall in rainbow colors.
"And you brought a young, beautiful woman along such a long trek and expected me to believe nothing happened?" Evelina smiled, her eyes deviously playful.
"It's ... nothing like that. She's too young, and—" Marcellus was stopped by her laughter.
"Do you truly think I would think that of you? Marcellus, I know you from the inside out. You are ever the gallant knight. Trust that I will see the Shama receives the full hospitality of House Admorran."
Her hands softly stroked his face, and her face grew somber. "I am so sorry for your losses, my love. Especially Jaslin. I know how much he meant to you. But they were soldiers, just as you, and you cannot take the blame for their deaths."
"Someone will answer for what happened." Anger blazed; his fists tightened until the knuckles cracked. "I will go to Lucretius himself, and—"
Her hands pressed on his chest. "You need time to think things over. You will rest, then you will go to your king."
"Something has to be done..." His protests weakened as she placed her hands on his shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes.
"No more talk of the dead. For now, let me enjoy that my husband, whom all thought had perished, has come back to me." She drew closer. "Let us love one another."
All other thoughts vanished as he pulled her to him and felt her mouth melt on his. His hands ran over her body, sliding down the silk and caressing skin even smoother. After so long, after so much, he was finally free to—
"Marcellus!"
He paused with a frown. I know that voice.
"What is it, my love?" Evelina touched his face, eyes full of hunger.
"It's nothing. I thought I heard—"
The door burst open. Nyori stood in the doorway, bathing the entire room with the golden glow from the crystalline staff she favored.
"Marcellus, get away from her!" Her voice was powerful, almost commanding. In confusion, he turned to Evelina.
What he saw was a nightmare.
What lay in his arms was no woman. The staff's blaring light revealed a blurred, insubstantial figure. Its ghostly limbs wrapped around his, the chalk-white face barely visible save for the flare of its eyes, flickering torches in twin caves. Marcellus shoved the creature away from him with a startled yell.
As it fell backward, a look of terrible rage contorted its face even further. Its brows furrowed so heavily that its eyes became tiny dots of fire, its mouth widened grotesquely, a pit of razor-lined blackness that tried to swallow the entire room. What emitted from the bestial throat was a scream, the wail of a thousand banshees skinned alive, as though the creature vomited all of its hatred and rage into sound.
The shriek resounded throughout the manor walls, buffeting Marcellus to the floor as he clutched his head. The orb winked out, Nyori shrieked and toppled as though struck.
The stained-glass windows behind them crashed outward, a broken rainbow falling to the snow-covered grounds outside. A shard fell beside Marcellus. Even then, he saw the reflection of the monster as it reached down and seized him with a clawed, ghostly hand.
"It could have all gone so well."
When he lifted his head, Evelina was before him with all of her beauty intact. But he knew it was not his wife that spoke. His wife was dead, and some creature wore her flesh. She held him easily by his collar; his toes barely grazed the floor.
"Your life is useless—all you loved is lost. You should have died in the wilderness, Marcellus of Kaerleon."
Words weren't necessary. Marcellus punched as hard as he could, wincing as his fist crushed her face and snapped her head backward.
It whipped back just as quickly. Blood smeared across her reptilian smile; her eyes glowed with heinous amusement. "You'll have to do better than that, my love." She shoved, hurling him across the broken slivers. "Especially if you plan on living beyond the next few moments."
Marcellus' back struck the wall, rattling a hanging coat of arms. He sprang to his feet and snatched one of the swords from the display, risking a glance at Nyori, who appeared completely dazed as she tried to raise herself erect. At least she was still alive. Which might not be the case if he couldn't stop the specter that approached like swift death.
He couldn't think of her as his wife, despite the beauty of her nearly unclad form, the angelic contours of the face he saw in his dreams. The eyes betrayed her, the icy blue fires of the wraith within. Her bare feet crushed razor slivers of broken glass, but the pain was either unfelt or ignored as she left behind crimson footprints. Her mouth twisted in hatred that contaminated her beauty.
"You are a fool, Marcellus. What do you fight for? Your king has betrayed you; the noble principles you believed in are ground to dust. Yield, and you can find the peace that has been robbed from you. Yield, and we can be together for eternity. You, me, and our child."
His heart stopped. "No. You wouldn't do that. Not to a child. Not to my daughter."
She smiled the way a cat might at a cornered mouse. "Do? My love, it is already done."
Red-hot blades stabbed into his leg. Marcellus gritted his teeth and looked down. The sight was almost more than he could bear. Alexia had wrapped her arms and legs around his leg, much like she did in times past to greet him. But her fingers were hooked into his flesh, sending waves of fire through his veins. Her eyes were flickering candleflies, her grin a snarl of clenched teeth.
Marcellus threw back his head and howled like a man gone mad.
A glowing-eyed shadow streaked toward him. He roared and swung the blade, but Evelina bent as though her backbone was made of mist. Her head grazed the floor when she glided under the sword. Launching forward, she raked at him with fingers curved into claws. He gasped at the sting when her nails slashed through his shirt and raked bloody furrows across his chest.
Still hampered by the child-creature on his leg, he snatched the bust of Reynar and hurled it. It exploded against Evelina's head in a blast of white powder. As she reeled, he grabbed the childish fiend by her hair and flung her to the floor. She sprang to all fours with her teeth bared, hissing like a cat.
Even then, he could not use the blade's edge. He struck with the flat of the blade, crying out with the child at the bone-splintering crack. The momentum carried her upward and out the broken window, where she fell with a pitiful wail.
"My child!"
The cry that tore from Evelina's throat was raw and so human that Marcellus gasped at the crime he had committed. His sword fell from his hand as she brushed past him and hurled herself out the window without slowing. The back of her shift exploded just before her body passed from sight; dark shapes unfurled from her back and fanned out. Moonlight revealed the cartilage between the stretched membrane of her wings.
Marcellus fell to his knees and vomited. The world swam around him, and darkness circled, seeking to pull him into its clammy embrace.
His hand fell on the hilt of the sword.
The room slowly stopped spinning, and his vision shimmered back into focus. His lungs were sagebrush, his breath thorns that tore at his throat. Nothing that happened seemed real. But what lay under his fingers—the cold, unfeeling, uncaring metal forged into a killing weapon—that was real. It seemed the only real thing in the world as he let the cool steel rest against his forehead. He was surprised it didn't hiss when it touched the fiery drops of sweat upon his brow.
"Marcellus ... are you all right?" Light flooded the room once more as Nyori regained the staff.
His eyes snapped open as screams and footsteps raced by. There were other sounds too, ghoulish laughter like the hells of Narak might disgorge, maniacal hilarity from an inhuman throat. He motioned Nyori to stand behind him before he drew a deep breath and burst out the door with his sword raised.
Even then, nothing could prepare him.
Lily gurgled as Master Huib seized her by the throat. Even as Marcellus stared, the veins blackened in the maidservant's flesh as Huib drained the very life from her.
Marcellus didn't know whose howl was more terrifying, Huib's or his own, as he sank the sword into the steward's side. Lily hit the floor in a lifeless heap as Master Huib furiously turned. Ignoring his wound, he seized Marcellus with one hand. Marcellus gagged and tried to break the iron grip that cut off his windpipe. His legs kicked helplessly, a full span above the floor.
A spear pierced Huib's chest, almost grazing Marcellus. Huib snarled and dropped Marcellus, seizing the spear that impaled him.
Dradyn held the shaft firmly. His teeth clenched, his brow knitted into a look of pure fury. "Quickly, milord. You must take off the head!"
Marcellus didn't hesitate. The blade hummed, slashing through meat and bone. Huib's severed head thumped off the ground and rolled down the hall. Immediately the same bluish flame that Marcellus saw as Murdon died enveloped the body, blackening the flesh until only a pile of ash remained.
"Well done, milord."
A scrabbling noise drew their attention to Lily, who twitched in her death throes. Nyori had already knelt, but before she could touch her, Lily gave a violent twist and laid still.
"Too late." Nyori made it sound like a curse. "I can do nothing for her now."
Dradyn threw a fearful look over his shoulder. "We will be next if we do not move. We must go quickly. Come."
He led the way down the dim hall. Nyori wisely kept her staff darkened as they looked about warily and kept their weapons raised. At one point, they ducked behind the pillars of the Great Room as several figures passed, heads swiveling as they searched.
Marcellus' heart froze as he heard Evelina's voice.
"Find him, you fools, or Vivienne will have your heads. They can't have gone far!"
Marcellus' hand tightened on his sword, and he started forward.
Dradyn restrained him with a strong arm. "Milord, please. All you will do now is go to your death. In daylight, we will have a chance, for the sun makes them as mortal as you and me. They will go underground before sunrise, and we must stay alive until then."
Marcellus wavered for a moment, then finally nodded. They hurried outside and streaked across the wintry turf, all too aware of their visibility. Dradyn led them to the small abbey at the end of the fields, where clerics visited to assist the servants and workers who could not make the trip to the chapel in fair season. Dradyn snatched open the door. "Here, milord."
He pulled Marcellus and Nyori inside. The air was dank, the floor dusty. Only a small platform stood before a row of benches where the Sword of Deis hung in the center of the wall. Marcellus staggered over to stand before it.
"They cannot enter a holy place?"
"It is not that, milord. This abbey is old, is it not?"
"Yes. It was here when I inherited these lands. I was told it dates back to the Age of Chaos."
"The doorway is lined with Banestone. Did you not see the runes? In the days when the Elious roamed the earth, men had only one protection from their powerful Crafts. The Aelon left the Banestone, which repels the powers of the akhkharu and makes them vulnerable. They will not come close if they can help it. We should be safe until the morning."
Nyori nodded as though she knew what Dradyn spoke of. Shouts were audible outside, but Dradyn's word proved to be true. Although footsteps approached, they retreated just as quickly.
"Marcellus!"
Marcellus ran to the doorway at the sound of Evelina's voice and peered through the cracks in the timber. She stood in the frosted snow, diamond dust that glittered in the moonlight. The cold did not appear to touch her even though she was still nearly unclad and barefoot. Her skin was ivory, her eyes cobalt gems. His memories of her melded together, making her as enticing as she was vile.
She seemed to see him as if no door separated them. "How long do you think you can hide behind such a flimsy shield? You do realize that we could burn the building down around your heads, don't you? But my mistress wants your lady friend alive. She has something that the High Lady values."
Marcellus turned to Nyori, who clutched Eymunder to her chest with wide eyes.
"For that reason alone, you live. Hide or flee; it doesn't matter. We have your scent now. There is nowhere you can go where we can't track you down. Huddle behind your Banestone shelter. Thralls are plentiful, and Banestone will not bar their way. You are already dead, Marcellus Admorran, and your Shama belongs to the High Lady."
She turned and strode toward the manor. The wind rustled her silk shift and hair as other akhkharu joined her, crossing the fields and entering the doorway like living shadows.
Dradyn joined Marcellus. "Dawn approaches. They dare not remain in the sunlight, or they will be robbed of their powers and easily slain. This gives us the edge that we need. Perhaps we can get to them before they send for reinforcements."
Marcellus gave Dradyn a sidelong glance. "How is it that you know so much about them?"
Dradyn hesitated before answering. "From ... my days as a soldier, milord. I was on border patrol at the foothills of the Dragonspine opposite Parthava. Out of nowhere, we were attacked. Most of my battalion was slaughtered before we found out our assailants weren't human. Fortunately, one soldier knew how to kill them. He taught us what he knew, and we managed to get back alive. No one truly believed our story, but I've had nightmares ever since. I never thought I'd come against them again, especially not here. Not in Avalloc."
"You should have told me they had taken my family, Dradyn. You should have said something!"
Dradyn dropped his head. "I honestly didn't know, milord. I had just noticed some of the servants acting strangely. Some disappeared altogether. We thought they'd run away. It wasn't until I saw one feeding behind the stables that I knew. I never thought they had already taken your wife and child, milord. I tried to warn the others, but they laughed, said I was losing my mind. I wasn't permitted to see Lady Admorran. I couldn't get word to warn her. Forgive me, Lord Admorran."
Nyori placed a hand on his shoulder. "He told me of what he knew. It confirmed what I suspected, though I didn't know the threat came from your family. I only knew to act when Eymunder led me to where you were. I'm sorry, Marcellus."
Marcellus was silent for a moment. "There's nothing to forgive. You both acted to save my life, and you have my thanks."
"An honor, Lord Admorran."
"I am a lord no longer, Dradyn. You must call me by my name from now on. It is Marcellus."
"Milord Marcellus."
Marcellus sighed. "Tell me all that has occurred since I've left. I must know everything."
Dradyn placed a hesitant hand on Marcellus' shoulder. "Milord. You just lost your wife and child and need time to accept your grief. For now, you should rest. You've already been through much, and tomorrow you must be strong. I will stay awake."
Marcellus looked up sharply. "Are you insane? Who can rest at a time like this? Who can—?"
His voice cut short as a ragged sob escaped him. The faces of his wife and daughter appeared in the darkness the way he remembered them, faces soft and seraphic with twin smiles. He wrapped his hands over his head and wept bitterly for losses so great they punctured from the inside out, tore open fissures the cold and unforgiving wind whistled through as it passed. He didn't realize he clutched Nyori in his grief until he sobbed into her bosom as she held him in silent comfort. Dradyn said nothing, a silent sentinel in the dark.
Weariness pulled Marcelles into a dead faint, a void where nothing existed except the ghostly faces of his wife and daughter, blurry as if fading before his eyes.
~*~
"EVELINA—"
He sat upright with a jolt. Daylight streamed in from the gaps in the doorway, and the dank odor of the abbey filled his nostrils. Nyori laid a few paces away, asleep under a heavy blanket. Her glassy staff lay beside her. Her face was peaceful, almost childlike in her slumber. He realized she must have been at the end of her strength after the long trek and the terrors of the previous night.
He felt ashamed for breaking down in front of her like that. Strange to think that despite her small frame, she would prove to be stronger than I.
He looked around, but Dradyn was nowhere in sight. The brightness of the morning sun made him wince when he opened the heavy door. The snow-covered grounds magnified the light almost blindingly. For a moment, he wondered if the nightmarish events of the previous night happened, if his memory of the ordeal was a reality, or the conjuring of his fractured mind.
Something gleamed beside him.
He snatched up the sword. The blood and ash that stained the blade exterminated any doubt or hope he had left.
Dradyn walked from the stables with his spear propped against his shoulder and a heavy cloak in his arms. He tossed it to Marcellus, who suddenly realized he was freezing.
"Are you ready, Milord Marcellus? I have searched the grounds. As I figured, the servants who could not escape have been slaughtered. The beasts responsible have gone underground to escape the daylight, including your wife and daughter. Or who wear their forms, I should say. Now is the time to destroy them if they are to be destroyed."
Marcellus groaned from deep within. "I do not have a choice. My wife and child must be avenged. We must do what must be done." He looked back at the abbey. "Will Nyori be safe in there alone?"
"I am coming with you." Nyori stood in the doorway, resolute despite the weariness on her face. She propped her glimmering staff on her shoulder.
"Are you sure, Nyori? You look as if you can barely stand."
"We need to stick together." She gazed at him as if daring him to disagree.
Marcellus sighed. "Very well, Shama. Let us be about this."
The trio shouldered their weapons and strode toward the entrance of the forbidding manor, which stood agape like a ravenous mouth.
As one, they stepped inside.